I'm entering a new phase in my life. One that is a bit more selfish. One that does not involve taking past trauma with me. One that requires my magic and full effort. I feel like I have spent so much time chasing and waiting. Waiting for the right person. Chasing who I thought could be the right person. Waiting for the perfect opportunity to be a different version of me. Chasing some past version of me that does not exist anymore. I think there is beauty in all of this confusion. I think there is peace for me somewhere. But it starts with me. My thoughts, my actions, my feelings. I am blocking my blessings by constantly chasing things that don't flow to me. Anything for me will flow to me naturally. Anything that wants me will put itself in the position for me to have. I have to never forget who I am. Forget what I have been through. Yes.. I am magic. I am not just pain, depression, victimization... I am magic. A powerful manifestor. A healer. A lover. A writer. I show up for myself and show up with love no matter where I am. Love moves me, motivates me and wakes me up in the morning. There is beauty in this nowness. There is beauty in me, even when I don't see it. Keep going, Precious. You are almost there.
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Sometimes life just feels impossible for me. Like I'm tricking myself or constantly burning out in order to go along.
I guess I am tired. Fighting things I can't see, loving too hard or not at all... nothing is worse than the loneliness though. Sometimes I go days without speaking to people. I end up stuck in my room, staring at a tv show for hours. But I don't know what the show is about. No. I'm just simply disassociating, dreaming of a world that makes sense to me. A world where my life isn't so hard. A world where I am loved. A world that is giving to me and does not destroy me every three months. I guess I want answers. I've fallen back into the ugly cycle of asking "why". After a year filled with lessons, ghosts from my pasts and too many "I love you's" that weren't real... I need a break. I need a break from understanding or knowing or planning. I just want to be. I want to just live and be grateful for the small triumphs of life. I do not know where I will be six months from now, but I hope it's beautiful. I hope I'm there to see it. I get so lonely that I use my left hand to rub myself so it feels like someone else is touching me. If you've never reached that point of desperation then I envy you. Loneliness is all I have, it's truly been my only loyal friend. Suicide always seemed like her attractive cousin but I barely feel her anymore.
But isn't this what I wanted ? Didn't I want to get better ? I thought I did. I really did. But now killing myself seems selfish and foolish, even though a small part of my brain believes it's my only option. A part of me still believes it's my only option. I've been wandering this planet alone for almost five years now. Using temporary fixes to replace the dread. Laying next to a beautiful stranger hoping they would help me feel something. Working too hard for friendships with people who could care less. Cutting my hair so I can feel like a new person and maybe get a new life. But it never works. I'm still lonely. I hate saying that aloud. I started this site five years ago and I thought I would get better. I thought I wouldn't be so lonely. But here I am at 22... still lonelier than ever. With secrets that sit on top of me like books on a shelf. With untapped passion that burns my chest every time someone shows any interest in me But they never mean it. I learned that quickly. Everyone just wants to trick me; make me open my gem up to them. Does anyone love anymore ? Will anyone be able to love me one day ? Every time I think I found it again, I am proven wrong. Wrong. I'm always wrong. So what am I looking for ? The stars in their eyes. I recently thought I found it again. Through my laptop screen at 2:43 am I thought I saw stars in their eyes. But they are not here, so maybe it was a glitch. No one is gonna look at me that way again. This much I know. So I guess I win right ? Loneliest. Ugliest. Biggest loser award. Most likely to kill themselves before 25. Stuck in the same intersection. Writing the same words. I fight the same war.. everyday.. for the past seven years. I ask myself this question every time I open my eyes to the sun, "what's wrong with you". It's like a voice recorder in my head going over my biggest fears, reminding me how I'm still lonely, how many tribulations I have to fight, how I wasn't good enough for you or you or you. The last stab I took to the heart, one that still feels raw, is brand new. A new struggle. Having to accept a truth that I saw in front of me, but couldn't stomach. Where did I go wrong.... why am I still standing here waiting for you.. I just wanna reach out to you. Fall into you again and again, even if I know you'll never care about me like that. I always fall into lovers who don't know how to love me. It's toxic, it's wrong. But if you texted me right now, I would fall into you all over again.
I didn't even get to have a funeral for you. It was like one day you were here and the next day, you were gone. But I guess I know that isn't how it happened. It was a long, drawn out process and by time I noticed, I couldn't stop it.
I let someone steal your light. Your peace. Your hope. Your smile. I was too blind to see what was happening to you. You loved painting your nails funky colors. I bite my fingers until they bleed. You enjoyed wearing lipstick. I don't own any lipstick. You loved taking pictures, especially of yourself. Sometimes it's hard for me to look in the mirror. You were a better woman than me. Unhurt, unfazed, unbothered. I guess you are who I'm trying to be at 20. Why did I let you die at 16 ? Was having a love story more important than my healthy mind ? I guess it was. Sometimes I wish I could go back and change it all. I would scream at you and tell you to stop, to get out while you can so you don't end up like me. But now you are me and there's no going back. I can only hope one day that I can bring pieces of you back to life. That one day I'll feel the hope you felt, the optimism. I am so fucking sorry. Sometimes I hear you from within me, screaming at me asking me "how the fuck did you end up like this ?!". I wish I can pinpoint the date where it all went wrong, but I can't. One day I just stopped painting my nails because I developed horrible anxiety. One day I stopped wearing lipstick because I no longer had the energy to be pretty. I think it's because I didn't feel pretty. I felt used, dumb, neglected. So this is your funeral; almost three years too late. I am so sorry that I let you drown. I can only pray I find the energy to swim. Three years ago I started this blog because of the motivation from a lover. She pushed me to put myself out there. I thank her for that, but she's gone now. Before she left me with an empty rib cage I used to post pieces of writing sprinkled in love. Words came easily with her. But not all love is true and it certainly doesn't last. For a year I recorded my struggle on this site for the world to see. I struggled to wake up. I struggled to look in the mirror, I hated myself because one girl decided she didn't love me anymore. I was 18. I was in my first semester of college and I felt like everything was working against me.
I was okay with being alone a year into it. I had adjusted, picked up new hobbies, found a wave of confidence. But of course when you're doing good, that's when the devil is most active. I regret letting you in my life. Not because of your character, but because I knew deep in my heart you wouldn't stay; yet I allowed myself to feel these feelings I had blocked off for a year. I read too many love stories, I thought after a year of watching everyone else's love blossom that I would finally get my chance. I'm choking and I know this feeling all too well. I'm choking on broken promises, on memories I'll never have and a love I thought I knew. But this is my fault because I am always the fool. The gulible girl who believes in love too much. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice..... I think I’m struggling to see the sun again.
It feels like I’m looking at other people live out their happy, healthy lives. And then there’s me. But that’s the monster talking. I feel him creeping back into my bones, making days seems so much longer. I’m constantly aching again, I’m trying to feel okay again. He’s been watching me. Waiting until I was at my best to invade again. He’s the reason I’m awake right now. He’s the reason words have been getting caught in my throat. Why mornings have turned to torture. Why everything hurts a little bit more and why death seems like heaven. I have to make myself okay again. I have to stop this relapse. Sometimes I wonder who reads my writing. Like who really feels the words I type on this screen.
Do you feel my rage ? My confusion ? My fears ? I wonder who understands what I'm writing, What all the secret messages mean. Like tweeting song lyrics, I'm talking to someone or something, but who or what ? I wonder if anyone has read what I written and said "this is about me". You were probably right, I often try to hide behind the shadows of words but my light and power comes shining through when the words come together perfect to create a melody, A melody only a few understand, The melody of my heart. My expectations, My short-comings, A melody of what I truly want. I like to think of my poetry as one huge puzzle. You have to connect the pieces to see the big picture. But even then I could never really sing the melody of my soul. Because it just doesn't make sense. I hope you don't read this. I hope this sits here and people read and relate to it. This isn't for you even though it's directed to you. This is for me. This is for the women who fell in love, fell out of it and now have to watch the love of their life kill themselves. This is for the women who watched all the hard work they put into a lover go right down the drain. Women are healers. We create life, hold it inside of us and give it. I gave you some of my life. Time that I can't reclaim as my own. I took my premature love; love that was pure and untouched and handed it to you without a question. You took it. You ran with it. You created art with it. You created a better you with MY love. Then you left. I breathed life and hope into you, embodied everything you needed me to be. Because I was your soulmate. At least I thought I was. I was the summer you never had, I was the sunshine that made your skin glisten, the water you needed to survive. You thought no one could love you, but I did. I embarked on a journey that no one was brave enough to face. The journey to your heart. I went through twenty hurricanes, two tsunamis, swam across the Atlantic ocean and crossed a mountain range just to get to your heart. I wrote poetry all over you; leaving my mark on your soul so you could never forget me. But did you erase me ? Did you forget ? Do you remember how we created art with objects and our bodies ? Do you remember the stars you saw when you look at me ? Do you remember the summer ?
Months ago I had someone tell me that I will never be loved. Of course in my fit of rage I shook off what they siad, I mean that possibly couldn't be true right ?
But several lovers later and many long lonely nights have bought me back to those haunting words. "No one will ever love you" Was the person right ? Are my worst fears manifesting ? Will I ever be more than just a phase ? My whole life I have been told my parents abandoned me because they just weren't equipped to be parents. But what if that is a pretty lie. What if I am just an unlovable child that is a burden to this world ? Riddled with mental illness. Swimming in the depths of loneliness and insanity. What if those six words were all too real ? |