Back for a Moment

I’ve been in college for approximately 2 months and I have grown into an entirely different person.

My hair is darker for starters, which has made me feel more mature in a way. I feel like a woman, an actual young woman who will be able to do grown up things and start a new life.

I’ve become more confident and unafraid to be myself. In high school I know I put up a front and now I shed that with ease, my friends receive my authentic personality and celebrate it with me.

Theatre is hard. It’s demanding. But it is my dream. Sometimes I falter, I get scared that I’m making the wrong choice; but then I remember they chose me. I am not here by mistake, I earned my spot and I will continue to prove that everyday.

I’m done being compliant, I’ve let people walk all over me my whole life. I’ve accepted the worst treatment, and never directly addressed problems. But now I do. I want my experience at Elon to be one of positivity, I’m tired of high school shit. I surround myself with people on the same plane of existence.

I’ve made my family here, and I love each and every one of them. Now, I have to start practicing loving myself more.

And there will be update on that later 🙂

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The Difficult Perplexity that caused Distress

I would like to make a disclaimer for this post to say that I do not condone compromising your happiness to stay with someone that is toxic to your health. But I will say this: you do not choose to be mentally ill, it is out of your control sometimes. Disagree if you do, that’s ok I respect that, however I am an individual who at times does succumb to the struggles I have. I feel shame for this, and you must understand that your loved ones may feel ashamed as well for not being 100% ok all the time. While I understand you can only be patient for sometime I encourage you all to try and continue to love individuals and encourage them even on their worst days. Thank you for taking the time to read this. And to the person this post is for, I am sorry for disappointing you; you may say that I didn’t. But I know I did because I disappointed myself. I love you.

If you can’t love yourself how can you love someone else?

The very notion of this phrase stares me down and laughs at me; it tells me everyday that maybe I don’t deserve love, and I find that unfair.

Because everyday I wish, I pray my brain didn’t work the way it does. That I could read as many self help books, I could exercise and feel endorphins coursing through my veins, and somehow I would feel better.

I wish I could choose to be better, I wish that when I do choose it would stick. That it wouldn’t be a struggle some mornings to get out of bed and smile at a stranger. That it wouldn’t feel exhausting to eat or give myself basic care.

It’s easy for some. It’s so easy that you feel lazy. You feel like a bother, you feel like you don’t deserve to cry—to ask for a little more help. You feel disgusting, so unworthy. Pathetic.

I want to be better. I need to feel better. I feel like I’m screaming inside my head, screeching at the sky for some deity to rewire everything and make me new.

Sometimes I truly believe everyone would be better if I wasn’t me. If I was born with a completely healthy mind; one without baseless fears and paranoia, without the need for sensitivity, no gentle care needed the minute my fragility shows through.

Someone that didn’t need anyone. Someone that didn’t pretend that they were independent because the minute she would feel herself falter she could brush it away and smile.

But I can’t be her. I fucking wish I could, I wish more than anything in this entire world I could be that for everyone.

I wish it more than life itself.

So to answer the question, I can love others.

But I want so desperately to love myself, because that’s easier said than done.

What I’ve learned

1. You’re going to change your style every single year, it’s the key indicator of personal growth.

2. Friends aren’t jealous of friends. They celebrate others’ accomplishments not drown themselves in their own disappointments.

3. Love doesn’t hurt.

4. People notice happiness that you make for yourself, people will want to be near that. But don’t let them take it.

5. Own your talents.

6. Confidence doesn’t not equal cockiness.

7. People can say “I love you” and not mean it.

8. People enter your life in seasons for different reasons. It’s called ebb and flow.

9. Trust your gut. Always listen to intuition. Always.

10. Kindness and being nice are two different things.

11. People can try and tell you who you are, but most of the time they’re wrong.

12. Smile, laugh as loud as you can. Let them hear your joy.

13. Don’t forget to tell them you love them.

14. Life is so fucking fragile.

15. It’s ok to ask for help.

16. Do not let fear guide your life.

17. Talk. Say when something’s wrong, don’t bottle it up in a passive aggressive episode.

18. Lists are still really hard.

God Only Knows

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It’s been 2 months since I wrote on here last, and I have no regrets. You see, I don’t know what to write; I don’t know what you all would like to hear, what stories I should tell. But I’ve missed it, I’ve missed sharing my thoughts onto a keyboard and letting the words take off while I zone out into a comfortable silence.

When I last wrote on here I said this world lacks love, now I look back and I realize what I truly meant; this world lacks empathy. In the place I live in people are so entitled, whether it be material or emotional–what they feel they deserve they will monopolize with no need for explanation. Everyone is guilty of this, no one is perfect, a simple flaw within the long list of humanity’s errors.

I feel like I’m different; I think I continuously look back and put myself into other shoes. I’m not entitled to anything but the happiness I create myself, and focusing on myself does not make me egotistical or rude. It gives me strength, a strength untouchable by sad individuals so crystalline you can see the tendrils of their heart writhing like an infestation. I feel sorry for them, but that’s their problem and not mine.

And I leave for college soon, I’m scared. But yet I am so ready to leave, to venture off into the world and find out who I was born to be. I will try to write more on here, I will try to convey how I am growing through not only my experiences but the way I describe them. I am thankful to those of you who have read my writing.

Happy reading 🙂

Why.

why

 

You should’ve told me. I gave you every opportunity to confess even though the answer was right there the entire time, I was just hoping–praying–you wouldn’t hurt me like this. That you didn’t have the capacity to completely rip apart what little shreds of dignity I scraped along after him.

It’s not like December. Maybe in some raw form, but honestly if I take a clear look at the events of before and now, it’s day and night. You see, I had the courtesy, the respect, to be upfront about what happened between me and him. But you, you hid behind a fake facade of care and love to make yourself feel a little less guilty.

And I am hurting so much. This is to be expected from other people, people that we used to gawk and stare at incredulously; “How could someone do that” we’d ask each other “How can another girl sleep with her friend’s ex? They’re like sharing or something that’s so gross.” How could you do that? Especially knowing how I was with him not even a few days prior.

And I lied to you I’ll admit, I said that we weren’t going to hook up anymore. But that was a full, intentional lie. He told me to lie, said it was for the best and I fully believed that and I still kind of do. But then again I don’t. Because maybe you would’ve had a little bit more self control, maybe you would’ve remembered that I HATE LYING. Especially when you think it’ll make the truth a little bit more tolerable. But it doesn’t it makes it so much worst. It makes you wonder if every single memory of our friendship is fabricated and underlying with lies and betrayal.

It makes me wonder if you were ever my friend at all. You don’t care about me. Be honest with yourself and realize that “family” doesn’t do that shit. At least my family doesn’t. You only want me around because I care about you. You’re just like him. And don’t you dare say he cares about me ever again. I’ve come to the conclusion that you’re saying that more to yourself than me. Which sickens me even more.

I can’t sleep, I don’t have any care to eat or take care of myself properly. I just want to punch a wall until my knuckles bleed, or cry until my throat goes hoarse. Anything to get rid of the burning I feel anytime I look at you.

So why do you continue to interact with me? If you cared you would leave me alone, you would let me hurt and heal and wait until I was ready to look you in the eyes. But instead you make attempts to smile at me, to wave, to make a joke. Do you not understand I’m too weak to properly ward you off? That you have literally stabbed me in the back and each glance my way is another twist.

That every single time I see you two within feet of each other I wonder how two people I thought I loved, that I thought loved me don’t give a fuck as long as I’ll be around to catch them when they slip.

And I was just a pawn in both of your lives.

So tell me Why. Why should I forgive and forget?

 

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.

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.