The Warning Label You Forgot to Read


It all comes with a price.

They don’t tell you that at first, they make it seem glamorous, a world filled with nothing but peace. But there is always a price to pay with happiness.

There’s a lot of guilt. So much guilt that you try to ignore but it’ll creep up on you in the middle of the night when you least expect it. Surprisingly it doesn’t really bring down the mood, it just leaves a nasty aftertaste.

You’ll get some disapproval too; whether it be your parents (even worse, your mother), people you consider friends, and sometimes close confidants. They’ll mask disapproval with words painting a perfect world in which you are protected and loved. Really, they wished you would live life a little differently.

I am the bad guy. Plain and simple.

I didn’t know you could overdose on joy and here I am sitting in the sick of the mess I have created. My only offense, choosing myself for the first time; I had let myself forget about others.

No wait. No I didn’t, I always remembered others. I wouldn’t feel the guilt if I didn’t.

I know in my heart that I always tried to put others first, that I pled my case to judgement and they gave me the OK. But, I get it. It’s easier to be the victim and I wish I could somehow twist this all and make it appear that I am without fault .

But I can’t, and I won’t. I have apologized over and over again and I will do it no more. I am happy. It does come with some side effects but I have people in my life that can help me. No matter how acidic the aftertaste appears to be it does not hold a candle to the glow inside of my heart.

The ache of my cheeks from smiling or the urge to giggle at the most random things. I am floating, my hands are restless and my eyes reflect the sky as I’m only looking upwards these days. And I’m drawing, I wake up early in the morning and just doodle whatever comes to mind in the misty haze of sunlight. I am clear headed and optimistic. I am not the monster of this story, maybe I am in others’ but not this one.

This is my story. I will write the narrative and set the standards of who truly shows me they want to be a part of it.

They forget to warn you because you have to learn on your own. 

-one girl




It’s weird not knowing what to say or how to react to things, it’s like you’re a robot.

And you’re masking all this emotion because you’re afraid you’ll fuck everything up so you just say nothing.

But that makes it worst—it makes you appear aloof and detached. You stand there with lock jaw from clenching back the words that are far too venemous for them to hear right now.

Sometimes you just feel like it’s better to give up, to not care about anything and everything. But that’s the easy way out. So you sit there and listen and start to see red seep into your line of vision. And your hands—fuck your hands are shaking—because all this emotional turmoil is just begging to be released in simple, short sentences.

But you can’t, because that’s not want they want  need to hear. You have to sit there and listen no matter how sick it makes you feel, your opinions must be watered down to appear soft and level headed.

You’re dancing on the  tightrope of conversation and nothing feels right anymore; things are confusing and you’ve just given up on trying to understand, which is the one thing you’ve vowed to never do.

So you sit there and listen.

Step 1


I don’t know I just get really frustrated with how the world works sometimes. Isn’t it funny how there’s more sad poetry in the world than joyful ones? How we relate to the melancholy more than stanzas filled with hope.

It’s as if sadness is the default emotion, and I don’t know why but that angers me. Maybe it’s because of where I am currently in my life; it’s a good place. Before I don’t think this all would have bothered me but right now, in this point in time, it does.

The idea that we describe ourselves as “broken” or “damaged” to other people makes me want to scream at the top of my lungs. The self-proclaimed “grenade” title is the beautifully intricate way we describe ourselves. It’s how I still describe myself at times.

But I’m tired. I am so so tired of being sad; I have fight left in me, I know this. I refuse to let myself get swallowed whole again and I can’t just sit here and watch the people around me do it instead.

Something my mother told me really stuck with me,”Heartbreak feels like it lasts forever but one day you wake up married and have two beautiful daughters.” Sometimes I wish I had known that 4 months ago, that I’d find the person in my life right now and everything would work out. It makes you sit there and wonder why no one else sees it that way.

There’s a word for it, Relative Deprivation; the mindset one has when comparing their own life with others around them and seeing it as mundane or unfulfilling. But as cliche as this may sound, life is beautiful.

And if people would just take a second and look around, be a little less cynical and cruel to themselves, they be surprised at what they find.

But I promise you, sadness is not all that you are. It is merely an adjective, an emotion. It does not make up your entire being. I know it feels that way but one day it won’t sting as much. One day your heart is going to beat a little faster when you see that one person and you’re going wonder how you ever felt anything but happiness before.

The first step is letting them go.