change in habits

changges

 

I am a person who always initiates things, something I’ve been more aware of this past month as I’ve grown. I think this is what has been my downfall and part of the reason things went so terribly for me earlier in the year; I put effort into things/people that don’t really meet me halfway.

I always make excuses for them, mainly because I know people have reasons to be a bit more forgetful or unable to hold meaningful conversations/provide mutual care. But also because I know I too used to struggle with keeping my head above the water to do even the simplest of tasks. And yet, I know know where to draw my line of tolerance.

Another factor I’ve noticed is how no matter how hard I try I am always made to feel less than–or like I’m not doing enough–and I would accept this. I would let people tell me how I was acting, who I was, the way they perceived my character and how it negatively affected them wasn’t to benefit me. All it did was make me loathe myself even more, question everything I said or did and ultimately view myself as a villain.

I am not a villain, and I do not deserve the treatment I have been given. I am proud of my growth, my ability to spread beyond my comfortable little box and engage with new and exciting people. Yes my tongue is now sharper, but I am simply done with making efforts that are seemingly void; efforts that just seem to fuel others egos.

I am showing those around me that I am not always going to be around, and I am irreplaceable–I hope they feel my absence and know that they caused it. And let it be clear that I am not asking for them to come back and prove to me that they value me more than they have shown–I don’t need that confidence boost when I already have it within myself.

This is what I want to be made clear:

I am an amazing friend, significant other, and most importantly a remarkable human being.

I will demand to be treated as such and nothing less.

I think we’re the ones

 

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I think we’re the lucky ones.

I’ve seen relationships around me rise and fall in the darkest of ways, I’ve seen people sob until their eyes could barely lubricate themselves and scream until their voices ran hoarse. I’ve heard stories of manipulation and mind games tearing even the kindest people apart, twisted them into mangled heaps of their former selves.

I think I made it out with only minimal mental scars and a heart that still beats at a normal pace.

I think you think about me from time to time and feel a familiar ache, I think you feel some sort of regret; I think you wish you could still reach out and touch my hand without me jerking back or flinching, with fear frozen in my half brightened eyes.

I think about you during thunderstorms, how easy it would be to send you a message asking you to be back in my life. How the sound of rainfall seems to soothe me to sleep just like your touch once did; I think about how our love was like lightning—fast, electrifying, and lethal.

I think about how stupid it is of me to keep thinking about you, how I keep writing about you. I’ve never written this much about one person, not since those 72 hours of utter hell last year.

I think we’re the lucky ones because if we really tried, we could start over again. And I think neither of us would really mind that at all.

But I think we’re the ones that were made to slowly poison each other; we just get to enjoy the process as we ride along.

Cotton&Fabric Softener

 

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I still have that t-shirt you let me borrow, the blank gray one with no discernible features other than its basic neckline and criss cross stitching along the hem.

Usually it’s buried deep beneath a tower of old shirts at the bottom of my second drawer on the right, sometimes I grab it by accident and before I know it I’m wearing it around the house, times like right now as I type this.

The signature cologne you wear has long since been worn away by wash after wash, the only thing left is the faint smell of green apples from my detergent that reminds me of home when I need it most; it keeps me grounded, focused on what’s ahead of me instead of behind.

I would never confess to others that I kept this, the hypocrisy that would underly all of the advice I’ve given to others would come to light; but out of all the things I’ve kept from you, the bracelet, the stuffed animals, the poloroid of us in my kitchen that resides on my wall—none hold a candle to this simple weaving of cotton I wear.

Because in another life, a life that seems so far away at this point, you wore it too.

And you never asked for it back.

 

 

remember the girl with fire on her fingertips?

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Originally I was going to make my last post one gigantic thing but I realize I have much to say about this particular topic swirling around my head so…double post.

Being single is really fun in the summer, but also really frigging complicated and let me explain why for you all; I love a good hookup. Sorry for the bluntness, sorry for maybe shocking you a little considering how heartfelt my last post was but I have to be candid in order to properly voice my problem.

I don’t like sex–ok that’s a lie, I do enjoy sex BUT for right now the idea of it is not appealing because of the whole previous relationship thing. What I mean is, my hookup definition is vastly different than most boys, which is what is complicating things. I like a good old fashioned heated make out in the back of a car or your friends bedroom (ahem…not that I’ve done any of those things whaaatttt) but the problem is once you’ve started that guys tend to expect more; and the whole “I had a whole pregnancy scare that traumatized me and my mom and I really don’t want to relive that situation so I’m trying to stay abstinent until I’m ready to be in a committed relationship” speech is kind of a boner killer.

Now here is what complicates my life even more. I hooked up (NO SEX REMEMBER HOOK UP IN THIS SENSE AS IN SEXY KISSING MOMENTS) with a boy that I come into close contact because of my friend circles, and he was a senior. After our fun times he proceeded to go on with a speech about how he wasn’t ready for anything serious (which I wasn’t…I wasn’t expecting anything serious I had just always found him attractive and a little scary but in a hot way) which made me feel really weird. I am the type of girl that understands these things, I’m a big kid; I don’t need a whole speech about how you’re living the casual life because guess what? Me too buddy. I did appreciate the sensitivity though, it was sweet that he cared for my feelings afterwards…which had the opposite affect he wanted. I was then over analyzing everything I was doing a) because of my lovely brain sabotaging me (we were in downward spiral at this point) and b) because I didn’t want to freak him out with my innate instinct to care for people I kiss. I mean it worked for the most part, but then something awful was occurring–I wanted to do it more.

So here I was, weeks of no one kissing me or cuddling, hoping that maybe this boy would wanna do it again. To my surprise (and utter relief) he did. BUT ME BEING THE DUMB ASS I AM COULDN’T CONTROL MY FUCKING HORMONES AND I MADE OUT WITH ANOTHER BOY.

A boy. Who is also in his friend group. BUT IN MY DEFENSE I had had people instigating this so it’s not my fault entirely. So yeah, I kissed another guy and it was…alright. The hot now graduated senior boy was kind of…better. I hate to say it but it’s true. And I had to see him knowing full well that he probably knows what occurred so now I look like a thirsty hoe.

So my problem here is, I am unintentionally spiraling down a path I do not plan on going on; and it’s like no one cares. No one is stopping me from pushing past the point of no return and my brain is kind of like “Hello? Is no one going to tell me this is wrong? You’re all just going to let me ruin my reputation? Alright, bet. And we’re all aware that I am incapable of knowing when enough is truly enough given my mental state right? Okay so if we’re all on the same page I’ll just keep messing up thanks.”

It’s like I’m watching myself from the outside doing these reckless things, knowing that it’ll have consequences, and not caring enough to stop myself. I’m kind of scared in a way, I want someone to save me from myself–I want someone to care about me enough to stop me from becoming something they know I’m not. But I’m not strong enough to ask for it.

This is a cry for help I guess, someone stop me from becoming the body that every guy thinks he can rent for the night.

genesis

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I am alive after a small break of mainly clarity, among other things. I will not lie, the last time I wrote on here I was on the very edge of holding on–so close to letting it all slip away. I shudder now, cringe at the very thought of going through what I had planned.

It’s all so trivial; but all of the things that had happened revealed to me that abuse/manipulation comes in many forms. As I have ridden down from the natural high that person had once given me I have deduced key moments that should have been warning signs.

  1. He was hell bent on getting me out of a relationship that I was for the most part, very happy in. I was trophy, a challenge that confused him–I saw this as flattering but it was borderline obsessive and egotistical.
  2. He had a God complex. He wanted people to revere and maybe even fear him a little. He feels he deserves all of the respect and honor that the world can give without lifting a single finger. In small doses, this would be human–it would be acceptable. But at some moments it would consume him.
  3. He didn’t like being told no. The word “no” didn’t mean the same for him as it did others. It simply meant “maybe another time”, this was dangerous. This was something I didn’t take notice of, but should have. God, I should have.
  4. If he saw an opportunity, he took it. That was his fucking justification for lying, for cheating. He saw the opportunity, and he took it.
  5. I wasn’t allowed to be sad or upset. Any of my insecurities or a small voice of unsatisfactory was met with condescend and sneer. I was built up, but it was undercut with annoyance and manipulative speech of all that he would do for me. It was empty words that made me loathe myself for even suggesting I was worth more than a fleeting compliment.
  6. His love turned sour fast. Sometimes I find myself submerged in the thick honey of our sweeter times only to be yanked to the surface and find a trail of ants in the wake. It started out small, he would be on his phone a lot more when he was with me or not really pay attention if I said something. Then the demands for the so called preciousness between my thighs got a lot more insistent; and once he got that, our “special” times were always overcast with his jeering comments about my appearance, or his insistent flirting with other girls right in front of me.
  7. After everything was over, he wouldn’t let me go. Prom night–I went to prom with a group of friends, it was the prettiest I had felt in such a long time–it was the last slow song of the night. One of my dearest friends danced with me, we dramatically glided across the dance floor with as much extra flair as we could; I broke away to speak to some other friends of mine mid song and he walked over, asked me to dance. As that song ended, he kissed me. He kissed me and I think that led to my spiral downward that I mentioned before, he didn’t even feel the need to actually talk about it afterwards until I brought it up.It’s like he wants to see if he still affects me, and he’s right every time.
  8. I am so so so so so much stronger than him. I can breathe without him, I am lovable, I am beautiful, I deserve to be nurtured and cared for properly, and I fucking deserve to live. There will be times that I may falter when I see him, my breath may quicken ever so slightly the minute our eyes meet but I know damn well I can reach inside myself and find the willpower to never let him in again.

He will not erase my name.

Intrusive: a spoken word

 

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I want you to think, I want you to imagine, I want you to step into my shoes for a moment.

You had the best feeling you could ever EVER have with someone.

But you had to leave, not just for yourself but for him as well because above all else HEALTH must come before all wants and needs.

And you go to bed with guilt rising from the stomach into your  throat praying to God that you’ll wake up and he’ll still exist in the world for one more day.

You’ll never know what it feels like to truly touch him again because honey, you’re the mistake.

Because from now on you are a walking VOID of seduction with the scars of his past etched onto your skin and lingering on your lips.

The sound of your name makes him itch and scratch, pawing at the now raw skin that resides beneath his clothes.

He knows you would never hurt him and that’s what scares him the most.

Because you still care, and he doesn’t know why.

You imagine him staring up at his ceiling fan late at night asking why, why WHY, why am I still alive?

My love you fail to realize that YOU are his poison, YOU are the contamination he cannot control.

I want you to think, I want you to imagine.

The only bridge you have between you and him is someone you love like family.

But he goes to HER, she goes to HIM, he talks to HER, she talks to HIM, and you sit there and wait for an update.

You sit there and twiddle your thumbs like a scared little girl because you realize how insignificant you are.

It is not jealousy that bubbles underneath the surface of your skin.

It is the pure hatred of yourself and who you are.

How does it feel to know that the one person you care about the most can’t stand to look at you without feeling like they’re burning?

To know that whatever kindness you try to give will only make it worst.

 

To know that you are an INFECTION that ceases to heal itself.

My dear YOU are the problem, and I swear to GOD  you better bite down on that “I love you” unless you want him to reach for the noose.

Standing there, wide eyed and helpless, WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU.

I want you to think, I want you to imagine.

I want you to step into my shoes.

 

 

seasonal aches

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It was summer

My hair was a bit shorter, my smile a bit bigger, and my eyes shining a whole lot brighter. I remember staying up till 3 am on the phone with him, I remember telling him about the art that I loved and how much he wanted me to try painting with him and maybe even on him–a flirty smile would slip on his face and I would blush almost immediately. I remember watching him cry one night while he confessed to me that he was a liar, that none of it was real and that I was a nice girl.

I shattered that day, a million or so cracks found their way on my porcelain surface and something strange inside of me broke forever.

But fall and winter gave me some time for healing, I escaped unscathed.

It was spring

My hair was a lot longer, my smile drifted in from time to time, and my eyes had faded quite a bit but I was coasting through life with someone that taught me how to feel in extremes. But he wanted things when he wanted them, and got them when he asked.

I went tumbling down once again and the fissures that had barely filled themselves opened up, the contents of my enclosed heart came pouring out and I can’t figure how I got over it last time–or why this time I can’t even describe how I feel.

Insignificance is purely relative by definition but sometimes it feels like a mass growing within your mind, body, and soul. I am shards of glass scattered on the tile and everyone is walking around me, careful not to get cut and waiting for someone else to come along and sweep up the mess. It’s all too much, it all feels too fresh still. A nasty wound that hasn’t been given the proper care, it oozes and pusses over the surface of my skin and leaves everyone with the sorest sight their eyes have ever seen.

But you don’t really care do you? You aren’t here to diagnose my aches and pains.