Goodbye.

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I don’t know what to type but um, I’m going to type out all that’s been going on in my head/life and see if that helps because I’m, something very wrong is happening.

There are three sides to every story, your side, their side, and the truth. Human memory likes to trick us, and memory is not at all perfect, so don’t try to recite a story and expect it to be 100% true and the only truth. When someone tells you you hurt them, you don’t have the right to say you didn’t; you don’t know in what way exactly you’ve hurt them because we weren’t made to perfectly articulate emotions.

I do not paint people out to be villains. Let’s get that straight. I tell my side of the story, you tell yours. But I only tell others my opinion, what I see, they have their own opinions and their own interpretations they make for themselves.

But I’m not hear to talk about that, I’m done. I know I’m a good person, I know I give people far more chances than I should and love them wherever they are in life. I don’t fucking give up on people and I hate that about myself.

So anyways, what’s been going on with me you ask? Good old paranoia, family lying to me and messing up my friendships, more mental and verbal abuse under my roof in the span of 3 days than ever in my life, and my personal fave my mother—my reason for breathing and the only reason I choose to breathe myself—threatening to leave my father for good. It’s lovely, it’s so enriching, it makes me wish I lived far away and didn’t have to breathe.

I’ve put up with a lot of bullshit this year, in every sense of the word. I’m not afraid to point out my flaws, I know I can be a fake bitch. Something I’ve been working on this entire summer; telling people what exactly  inconveniences me, what they’re doing that hurts me instead of running around and telling others.

Because of this I’m increasingly aware of the fairness I let myself tolerate, that I contributed to. Gossiping about others, being nice to their faces and excusing that as being mature. It’s not being mature it’s being a fucking snake and I’m tired of excusing it.

Sometimes people bring out the best and worst in you, I noticed I would succumb to the gossip more and more around certain people and realized how detrimental it was to me. How unhealthy for both of us it was to feed into it all.

I wasn’t a good person this year, I know it. This year was the worst of my life, I hurt people with my actions and words because of my internal struggles although that is no excuse. But it was never my intention.

I try so hard to not be this evil bitch and yet it found its way out this year. But I’m not going to apologize for being flawed, I will apologize for taking it out on others.

I blocked you because I realized something chilling, after my sister told me the truth about what you said I realized it was easy for me to believe the lie because I have witnessed you say things about people but act like their best friend.

Dont try and deny, you did on this very day, you’ve said such mean spirited things about that girl but today I saw you acting as if you were friends just like you were when she was a freshman. You did the same when another girl got the role you wanted, said such mean things about her talent but smiled in her face when met in another show. So if you can do that and pull it off so easily how can I not be just a little bit suspicious that you would do the same to me?

I know you gave a lot in this friendship, I never asked you to do that and told you many times that it wasn’t necessary. What happened a few days ago was a complete misunderstanding with so many other layers that I can’t even begin to describe and I had to do an in depth reflection on this dynamic we have, or had if my deductions are correct.

You probably will scoff at this whole post, or see it as a superficial whatever and you know what? I don’t care. I’m being genuine, I wanted to talk things out and see if we can at least be aqquantinces; it seems like even that is a lost cause.

So I hope you have a good life, I hope you prosper in the future and  whatnot. If you need me (which you probably won’t want or have no use for any longer) you know where to find me.

In all honesty I don’t want this to be the final episode of our little sitcom but, I guess this is goodbye.

change in habits

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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.

fairytale land

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Once upon a time there was a girl just like you or me. She had her good days but most were lackluster, never terribly awful but you could tell things were dimmed.

She cried more times she’d care to admit to anyone but herself and poured all her love into others’ empty canteens. Now this wasn’t always a bad thing, it made her feel whole—less numb—but people take advantage of such kind souls.

Her friends compared her to the sun, a comparison she never really minded and secretly loved; the sun was life, it was everything she had forced herself to believe she was. But on the inside she was dying, the glow in her heart dangerously close to being snuffed out.

And it was. Day by day, bit by bit, ever so discreetly but oh so prominent the light dissipated. Her body was cold, frail, so very very vulnerable.

We all know these stories, we know that the girl finds her knight in shining armor to save the day and ignite life into the story.

But this is not that kind of story.

Instead of waiting for someone else to make her whole like she had so many times before, the girl did something even more remarkable and beautiful.

She reached deep down inside of herself and found the leftover remains of all the love she had placed aside for others; and with those delicate slivers she stitched and pasted together a different kind of love for herself.

A vibrant, solid kind of love that no one else can take; it grows in strength as you grow and fills you with earth shattering happiness.

It was the kind of love that transformed this young girl into the heroine of her own story.

You see self-love does that to a person; reshapes the heart, opens the eyes, supplies wisdom to the mind.

And turns suns into supernovas.

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.

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.