Friday, October 23, 2015

October 23rd 2015, 8:17 pm

Click for The Song I'm Listening To

Today was gruesome and somewhat endless. The entire time i felt like i was dragging an extra pair of feet behind me. Bits and pieces of my morning influenced my afternoon. If things weren't going my way this morning, how could they get any better. I had ruined my day already and felt the stress under my ribcage. Many times a day I wonder why I do anything I do. I'm always reaching for a feeling. Mostly right now it's comfort. I feel too lonely in my moments of weakness. My dynamics are unrecognizable. Every interaction is bland. I wonder if I'm boring as I flip through every word of a conversation I had in front of someone I'm insecure about. Everything I say lacks depth, I get stuck, and give up. i think to think and then to talk. but only for myself. I've realized. When you are relating to someone back and forth, don't you feel more of the anticipation for your story than you do theirs? I mean that was interesting, but my life seems a lot better, probably because it's relatable, probably because its mine.

Other than my feelings of doubt when pertaining to my life as a hole, do you ever think of how romantic it would be to die? Sometimes I imagine how people would react, and I am seeing everyone living without me. how much it hurts to be me by the time i've died. My life is a one way street. I never get to turn around. I'm subjected to a lot of dismissive behavior for just being me.  

My past is constantly antagonizing me. I think of the moments I never fully absorbed or appreciated and my ribcage gets tighter around my lungs. I wonder why I hang onto those few months. I've never experienced that much learning in just one small time period. Everything was in my hands, berries. Berries staining my hands. I could've eaten them, and I didn't. I watched them rot, and I watched them ripen. Instead of gorging in my opportunities, I clasped down on each one and was left with purple hands. I remember days of no makeup and hours in bed. I remember days of walking into places I wasn't sure I wanted to be at. I remember smiles from people, and affection, affection I had lacked the wanting of, because it hurt too much every time showed concerned. I felt like every inch of the skin of the person I was hugging was covered in needles, breaking through my skin with disappointment. I remember being back at square one. But this time I wasn't a virgin. I was officially a young woman, but I didn't feel like one. I remember turning 17 and having my life weigh even more than it did before. 

And its hard, every day, it's a different kind of hard. It's the same every year. I wonder when I will see my life turn around. Life never changes, if I never change. When I talk too much I feel like words hit every nerve until numb. Every day is hard.