"This will be the year I stop making the same mistakes I always have."
And then at the end of that year, you will forget all the lies you told yourself. You will know, instinctively, that this next year is going to be your year. That perfect future is so close. All you have to do is reach out and grasp it.
Has anyone ever closed their fingers on anything other than air?
Sometimes I am so incredibly bitter about the fact that there are so many things about me that need fixing. And I just want to be hateful and mean and blame other people for making me this way. I just feel in many ways like such a subpar person - I donít even have the motivation to do the simplest things in my life. I donít know if Iíve ever finished anything without a massive mental push and a huge incentive to do so. I feel like I could be so much better at things; I couldíve been a better dancer, I couldíve been a great musician if I had just tried, I could have been skinnier and happier and more fulfilled if I had just put forth any effort but I couldnít and I didnít because I am missing some vital part.
And so I purposely isolate myself, because there are so few people that I feel like Iím even on the same planet as, much less the same wavelength, and being around people that I just donít get is mentally exhausting for me. Iím not happier this way but Iím more content. And itís simpler. I donít have to be reminded of all the ways that Iím inadequate, I donít have to go through mental gymnastics to sustain a simple conversation. But I do wonder what the future holds for me, if anything.
I donít like giving myself up to people. I am uncomfortable telling most people even the simplest facts about myself because when people have pieces of you they will use those pieces against you. Even if I do manage to let down a few walls, whatís the point? Soon Iíll find their breathing annoying and theyíll find me boring. It all eventually adds up to zero.
I just donít see the light and I donít see the point and there is far too much to do.
I don't normally do sentimental. Or feelings, or any of that. Because I don't see the point. I don't feel it, so I try to fake it until I feel it. I know how I'm supposed to act, and it is so easy to play those actions when really I feel more detached than ever. But I just end up hurting people. And that's why I stay away.
But for you, maybe I could.
Maybe it's only possible for me when I've known someone so long that all those little barriers I put up don't even matter. When most of the lines have been crossed already. When I don't feel like or care about censoring myself because you've heard it all before.
It sometimes is beyond me that two people can just meet and like each other at the right time, and can get together and have it actually be good and worthwhile. How do you just trust that person? How do you tell yourself that you ever really know them?
The timing is so, so wrong. So I will be your friend, I will overstay my welcome sometimes because I can't help wanting to be with you, I will react a little too much when our shoulders brush, and I will hope you don't notice that anything has changed. I will convince myself that this really is silly, it's a crush, it's just because of our shared history.
And maybe someday we'll really both be on the same page.
I barely know how to write in anything but the second person anymore. Everything is letters to no one, letters to the ones who disappointed, letters to the ones I'll disappoint, letters to myself. Maybe it makes it easier to distance myself from my life, which is really what I've been attempting since I was probably only 12 years old.
The problem with distancing yourself from emotion so much is that when it does break through it does so like a fucking hurricane. I remember being 16 years old and just feeling numb, not caring about anyone or anything. I went shoplifting with a friend and got caught. It felt like waking up after being asleep for years, and when I got home I cried for hours until I was completely physically drained. And then I shut down again. I don't even remember the last time I cried since then.
And then people caring too much about me just scares me. I got a text the other day that just said "hey gorgeous." I nearly threw my phone across the room. I didn't reply. Don't make me hurt you because I will.
I want to be cared about but I don't. I'll change my mind in a second about how I feel. I'm needy. I'm insecure and a narcissist at the same time. I want to cuddle but I need my space. I want to stay in bed all day and not talk. I want to listen to someone be passionate about their life and the things that are important to them.
But what's the point of trusting anyone with those secret pieces of yourself when you know eventually they are just going to disappoint you?
I don't know why I've started writing in this space again. I don't like anyone having access to all of me so I spread these thoughts out over various platforms. I honestly have no idea why anyone would read this. I am a mess. I hope no one reading this is as big of a mess as I am. If you are, let's talk about it.
Your capacity for hurting me continues to astound. I closed myself to what happened between us and chose to only allow you in my life in the small capacities I felt I could handle. And yet still here I am, laying in bed, thinking about you. Fuming about you.
The oh so simple truth is that all I want in my life is one person who cares about me over anything else. Is that a lot to ask of someone? I don't care. If we all knew the world was ending tomorrow, whose arms would I be running to? I miss having someone to hold onto in the dark. Someone who squeezed back like letting that moment end would be akin to letting life end.
You are not worth my time, but no one else has staked any claim to it.
I need release. I need to run until my legs give out. I need to scream at the top of my lungs. I need to get in my car and drive until I reach somewhere new and can carve out a new life for myself. I need to jump out of the plane and not be completely sure that my parachute will work.
When I miss you, I'm missing everyone who ever left.
Did I ask you, for attention, when affection is what I need?
It's sort of sobering, isn't it? How you think you know exactly what you want, yet when it finally shows up, you feel nothing but disappointment. Check, check, check down the list, everything you wanted is there but it doesn't fit. Sit back and reexamine yourself, what you thought you wanted, what you thought you needed, because you were completely wrong. After all the time you spent alone with your thoughts you know nothing.
Looks like I haven't used this thing in a while. Most of these musings have moved here, to my tumblr. But now several of my real life friends follow me on there and I don't like them all having access to all my thoughts.
Anyways, it's a short story. I let you in. You made me feel like I was special. Like we were special. You left.
You aren't the first, which is maybe why I kick myself for not seeing it coming. But still I play it back over and over. What was the moment? Where did it break?
You're selfish. You're a shitty friend. I am above you.
I play things close to the chest, I always have. Unless the stars align and the perfect moment comes, I'll never say these things to you. I hope one day there is a girl who is brave enough to tell you. I hope you realize your mistakes and fix them, and that you can be happy. But it won't be with me.
"But what about these?" You pulled 2 creased postcards out of your wallet. My handwriting. Love letters. "What did they mean?"
I don't know if it's imagining bombs falling around you that makes me miss you. I don't know why every conversation I've had with a guy since, has felt like an echo of you. I don't know why I have to feel like this, since when you kissed me like you were trying to convince me of something, I felt nothing at all. I don't know.
Every scene was a sign, we made out through their meaning.
It's such a sweet feeling
The feeling I get
Close the door, make no noise, keep it a secret.
The grad party invitations are sent, the APs will be done after this week, the deposits are sent and the roommate is picked. And now I'm sitting here waiting patiently for life to hit me.
I stood in class today and watched the boy who used to be my best friend, the boy who introduced me to the guy who stuck in my head. The boy who always took care of me and told me his secrets. And I watched him walk less than a foot from me without saying a word.
Is it my fault? Do I not put enough effort into my relationships? I feel like people are slipping through my hands like sand. In four months I'll never see most of them again, but what about the memories and secrets and midnight heart to hearts? Do we walk away and pretend they never happened?
I keep myself in a haze, because it's the only way I feel like I can be act normal. Maybe I should've been an actor, because all I want to do is hide behind a different persona every day.
It's like we're all gearing up for something. The smell of rain hangs in the air. Gatsby's about to kiss Daisy and you don't even want him to because the anticipation is so much sweeter. It's the little coincidences, the little things that make me pause and wonder.
I love what I've been doing on the radio station. I've always been a lot shyer and less likely to jump at opportunities than I let on, but I wanted to do this for so long, and the feedback makes me feel like I'm really doing something that I'm good at. My senior dance recital is in two months, and I find it hard to grasp that something I've done and identified with for so long just isn't going to be the same anymore.
I don't even miss the people I've lost contact with anymore. I've lived in the past and it's pretty boring.
For now it's the little brushes, a scruffy face. I'll laugh a little too much because I'm nervous and I'll try not to let you see my hands quivering with the anticipation.
It's been a long time since I discovered and fell in love Pretend You're Alive, but this band has held a place in my heart since I was 12 or 13. They have yet to put out anything I don't adore, and this EP is no exception. Can't imagine better songs to spend my summer listening to.