Every day is a fight, as usual. Keep fighting. For those we love. For those that make our life worth it.
Listening to: Until The Day I Die...Story of the Year - classic.
Another evening and another day and another bit of time has passed me by. I just wish I could bring myself to care. I've been pushing so hard to be normal. I do what I know best. I spend time with my family. I spend time with my mother; someone I know has spent time thinking the exact same thoughts I think every day at this point. Drinking away the pain only goes so far. I take pride in being the best aunt I can be, and I know my nephews love me. They admire me, they look up to me. And I figured out why I wake up every day feeling so alone, despite all the love I have in my life. It's me. I am stopping me from finding happiness, from having it in my every day. I've known for a long time. I've known that its easier to help other with their lives then focus on my own; I've known that I am not happy with being myself. My brother says its because I have this mental idea in my head that "I am awesome" and that holds me back. At least, that is how I interpret it. Which is true. I do think extremely highly of myself. How the fuck do I overcome that? How do I bring my own self esteem down to a level that's considered "acceptable". Strange, how, when I am alone, I don't feel that way at all. If only I could explain it properly. I forget everything when I am with my family, when I am hanging with my nephews playing board games, or talking video games. I forget everything I have done the last twenty years of my life. I say twenty since I am not sure I can count the first ten years of my life, however, everything after that is definitely fair game. My entire being has been shaped and built by someone else, someone, as you all know if you've been reading, I gave my entire being to and I never took it back. I never wanted it back. I still don't. Imagine that. I don't even know who HE is anymore and I would still trust him with all of who I am. I would give him anything if he called tomorrow, and I know I would. Amazing. I can't even believe it myself. It's in the music I listen to, the TV I watch, the pop culture I like, the anime I watch, the designs I see in my head, all my creativity, all my growth, was because of him. And what have I been doing? Pining after someone who probably doesn't think of me, literally, ever. I'm pathetic. The funny thing is, I have such a strong side of myself. It can be overpowering sometimes. It tells me to pick myself up, to be stronger, to be better, to shut the fuck up and stop crying, to get my shit together, to figure it out. It motivates me. However, I've found it only lasts as long as I'm angry. I have to be mad at the world, I have to be mad at my circumstances, I have to be so infuriated for a constant period of time; and that just isn't me. I'm not that angry. I'm understanding. I'm rational. I'm empathetic. It clashes with so much of me that says I need to stop being a damn pussy and own up. The voice in my head that says, "you made your choices, now fucking own them" - "you've made you god damn bed, fucking sleep in it and be grateful that's the only shit you have to deal with." My problems are set within myself. I finally let go of my necklace. If I haven't mentioned it before, it was a sterling silver chain with everything that ever meant anything to me. Two of the items are from some of my Christmas' with Peter, and they were such a part of our relationship, I never took it off. For eight years, I wore that necklace. I don't think you can find a picture of me without it. Then I left. And after many months of despair, Brianna bought me another necklace with my initials in it, and it said, "with brave wings she flies" engraved. It was the most endearing thing and most life altering thing that she could have done, because to me, I had just done something so life changing and so difficult, in that moment, it felt like she was the only person who really understood everything I was dealing with, so I added it to my most precious items, that hand right next to my heart. That gave me strength, so I wore it with my past. I put it on my necklace and made that a part of me, of who I was, and who I was going to be. And in nearly eight years, I have not taken that necklace off, it became such a piece of me that I never thought I would let it go. Then my brothers spoke with me and I laid my heart out to them, and they said I needed to let it go. So I let it go. And when I'm alone, I still miss the feel of it around my neck. I never realized how much it gave me comfort, how much I depended on the feel of it. How much I was in love with the symbol of everything I had been through, how much I was in love with my own tragedy, in love with all those hard choices that got me to where I am now. I was so stuck in my own past, that I have no future. And then every time I think I could have one, I realize I never wanted one. I tell myself its not self pity, but at this point, who the fuck knows. Maybe I sadistically and subconsciously need it; to feel something, anything. I remember my nothingness from years ago. I haven't felt it in such a long time, but then I feel like I never really left it. Am I just that crazy? I'm not sure. I never really know where my mind is, and I have way too much alone time to ponder it. Half the time, I don't want to sleep. But then, when I do sleep, I could sleep forever. Seriously, going to bed for me is like losing days; I physically will not get up. I think its subconscious, but I'm no therapist to my own shit.
Every day is a fight, as usual. Keep fighting. For those we love. For those that make our life worth it. Listening to: Until The Day I Die...Story of the Year - classic.
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I did my very best, I've given you these years, of love and understanding, telephone calls and tears, but now the little things you do that used to make me love you, now just cramp my heart a little and let it slip... And we've met this sorry end from a picture perfect start, the romance and the running down to disconnected hearts of two people sad and free, who know they used to be, more than just a pair of sinking ships... "Anymore" by Frank Turner
I finally deleted it. I've never hovered over a button for so long. I made the moment important; like I just took some metaphorical step towards another part of my future. The future without him in it. The further I get away, the more anxious and scared I become, and yet I'm moving toward it. I keep moving forward, because as much as I can't imagine my life without him in it, I think that's exactly what I need to do. Every step has taken me closer to the clarity of why a friendship at the end of everything isn't as possible as I always assumed it would be; but I realized that I can't move forward without coming to terms with the person I am without him, who I am alone. And then this is why I didn't want to move on, it was never that I couldn't, I didn't want to. He taught me so many things that are so apart of me, like breathing, they gave me life; music, art, sex, anger, pain, acceptance, and most of all, love- he taught me how to love so deeply and so profoundly that I'm still moving on some four odd years later. And I've never wanted to let any of it go, and maybe some would say I shouldn't, but in the end, I believe with all of who I am- the revelation I have come to in these past couple of weeks, is that I need to find my own music, my own art, and deal with my own pain the way I would, not how we would have.
I haven't exactly been at my best lately. I've been emotional and overwhelmed by what was, and what could have been. Reflecting on the past is never a bad thing, unless you let it consume you so much that you forget to live right now. And I have been letting it consume me. It's taken over my emotions and I've started talking to a certain person again that I shouldn't be talking to, but he texted back, so is it okay that I opened that channel again? Probably not very healthy, emotion-wise, but nonetheless. I just miss my friend; and I know its okay to miss him, but he's got his own life to live, he has a girlfriend, he's got Nixon. I need to leave him alone, I need to live my own life...right? But then, my life is so stagnant. I go to work, I come home, I clean my apartment, I feed my boys, I go to bed alone - and the next day it starts all over again. The weekends are no different either. I sleep in, I watch TV, I clean my apartment, I do the laundry, I go to my parents, usually end up drunk somehow, watch a movie, go home, and pass out. Not exactly the best life that I'm living here. I need an outlet; I need something outside of what is so I can focus on what could be. Honestly, I think I lost my purpose; the purpose that fuels our lives, that gives us fulfillment and joy; and I have no idea how to get it back. I need to get it back, I need to feel something other than nothingness, something outside of the emptiness. emp·ti·ness /ˈem(p)tēnəs/ noun 1. the state of containing nothing. "the vast emptiness of space" synonyms: vacantness, bareness, blankness, clearness, barrenness, desolation 2. the quality of lacking meaning or sincerity; meaninglessness. "he realizes the emptiness of his statement" 3. the quality of having no value or purpose; futility. "feelings of emptiness and loneliness" Emptiness as a human condition is a sense of generalized boredom, social alienation and apathy. Feelings of emptiness often accompany depression, loneliness, and despair. A sense of emptiness is also part of a natural process of grief, as resulting in significant changes to one’s life. I had a dream that I woke up in my old bed at my old apartment on Matteson. Peter was snoring quietly next to me, and Nixon was curled up next to my leg. They both seemed so peaceful; and it was so real. I smelt my old room, the sound of the fan oscillating like it always did no matter what time of year it was- neither of us could ever sleep without the fan running. The room was exactly how I remembered it. I wanted to hold onto that moment so badly, but the difference in this moment was that I still remembered everything that has happened up until right now. I remembered the choices I had made, even though at this moment, I hadn't made them yet. I remembered the pain, the lonely nights I cried myself to sleep, I felt the anger and resentment, the emptiness. And as much as I was holding onto that moment, I realized going back meant I would lose Pelli and Ezio, I would never adopt them, I would never meet Yusuke and take him home with me. I would never have the freedom from my circumstances that I prayed for so badly when I was there, in that place, in that time. The guilt that hit me in that moment was so heavy, and when I woke up this morning in my bed with Yusuke's little paw stretched across my neck, I realized I wanted both. I wanted the past and the present, I wanted to go back and keep my new life, I wanted what made me happy then just as much as what makes me happy now...but life doesn't work that way and we can't have both and going back wouldn't change anything except resurface the pain it took to get out. The pain that's still present every time I close my eyes, every time I see something or smell something that reminds me of the days when I was apart of something real and tangible, apart of an "us"... But that was then, and this is now.
"Being any kind of happy is better than being miserable about someone you can't have." -LEAH CLEARWATER (JULIA JONES) / TWILIGHT, BREAKING DAWN part 1 (STEPHENIE MEYER/MELISSA ROSENBERG) nos·tal·gia /näˈstaljə,nəˈstaljə/ noun
-Late 18th century (in the sense ‘acute homesickness’): modern Latin (translating German Heimweh‘homesickness’), from Greek nostos ‘return home’ + algos ‘pain’. The word is nostalgia. I’m at a concert, watching one of my best friends sing one of his songs; he’s fantastic, and he’s energetic, but it’s the people in the crowd that keep stealing my attention. While I am feeling immense pride for the man I call friend singing on stage, so proud, I also feel a hint of disheartened nostalgia, for the people hidden in the dark crowd surrounding the stage. A connection still hanging on by a thin thread of memory and acquaintance, because of my talented friend, luring people from all walks of life, strangers in the dark, to his stage. The reason I am here, at this very bar, is for his performance, but also because of his love, his unyielding friendship, which has led me to the pride I feel right now. And little does he recognize at this moment, this bond has brought in those other few that once connected us years ago. The strangers, the faces hidden, with only flashes of light to reveal their eyes. An ex, a man who was once my entire identity, my best friend, whose presence still hits my heart with a powerful blow; still personable, but so distant and so very far from my reach, while only ten feet from my bar stool. Other people, men and woman that I’ve known for years but haven’t seen in such a long time, people I once considered family, people I would have done absolutely anything for, standing among the crowd living this moment in the same space as myself, breathing the same air, and yet, complete strangers to me. It’s a wonder we were ever friends at all. It seems like only yesterday that we were such a close unit, constantly together, celebrating holidays and enjoying lives in each other’s company. It’s so nice to see them and yet I can’t help but feel lost and slightly upset, while also feeling a joy I haven’t experienced in many years. A deep, unsatisfied longing for the people we were back then; for the friendships lost over time, slowly disappearing into the fractured memories of our young past. And the man on stage has brought us here, all in this one room, united as we once were to watch his performance, and he is awe-inspiring and extraordinary.
It’s a weird feeling. Sitting here, at the bar, accepting what is, and also remembering what was. Where do we go from here? Where does the story lead us? It possibly ends exactly where it was supposed to end; but then some things carry on, and it’s not wrong to mourn them, the memories that were so strong, that built our character, our personality to what it was, to what it is now. Listening to my friends sing now, I’m in a state of euphoria while also a sad state of acceptance. Isn’t that what life is now? Acceptance for what was and what you can’t change? The love that flows through me now and the pride I feel by just knowing this distinct group of people, while it’s sad, it’s also euphoric and beautiful. The world spins outside of our own universe, and it keeps spinning even when you feel you need to take that breath, that one moment that makes you feel so human, you want to forget everything and start over; but forgetting doesn’t change what was and it certainly won’t change what is - be the person you want to be - be everything you are and accept those who are apart of what life was and what life is. Love all, and love the life you live right now. What is a memory but time recorded and sometimes written down.
As I’ve stated before, fear leads to the choices that make our nightmares real, whereas the choices we make out of love, of kindness, of the self we picture for ourselves, this is who we are, and who we always believe in. This is who we will always be, written in a memory of every person we talk to and every person we meet. It’s a memory, its fragile and while the mind ages and deteriorates, it presents a feeling, a strong and powerful feeling that sits deep within the depths of our souls and our hearts, and we’ll always have that feeling. The feeling of being whole and exactly who we needed to be at that moment in time. It’s a moment, but it is so much more than what anyone could ask for; every experience is yours and yours alone. Cherish what it is. Cherish everything in your heart and mind that matters at that moment. Life is too short to pretend that you have forever. Let’s be us, let’s end the world with us, and be happy that we could only be us right now. Nothing else matters. It’s the world around us that sees a problem, but our hearts speak louder than words ever could. I love you. I don’t even have to really know you, I just have to understand that one moment, the moment that is everything and nothing, that one moment that makes us who we are. The memory. The nostalgia. The end and the beginning. Let this be a note to those stuck in a moment. New moments happen. And nostalgia is the beauty of remembering how wonderful it is to be alive and how lucky we are to have every moment we're given. Live. And understand exactly what that is. Love. Because it’s who we are as humans. Because it spreads like cancer through the world of who is, what is, and what we all want to be.
im·mu·ni·ty /iˈmyo͞onədē/ noun - plural noun: immunities
It is so very true. When a relationship has ended or has been somehow damaged, we lose our immunity to say whatever we want; everything has to be said carefully, with precision and sensitivity. The immunity that allowed you to say whatever came into your head because of a common feeling of love or acceptance, the label of boyfriend or girlfriend without animosity, without resentment; that immunity is stripped from you. You realize quite quickly too. All of a sudden, you stop. You stop talking and you start constantly rewording sentences in your head, how could you say this one thing without them taking offense? Every time you criticize or even if you make a joke, it's like you're attacking them even though you aren't; but they can't see past the pained history, the facts that lead to whatever end you had to face, the end that you let them face alone, and you weren't there to protect them - you, the person who they thought would never be against them - in their minds, somehow, you became the enemy, so quickly and so dramatically, the tables turn in their minds. You've been perspective-ly twisted from the loving girlfriend or caring boyfriend to the one who left, the one who broke their heart, the one that argued and yelled. It's no wonder most couples or relationships can't stay friends after its all over.
What is this girlfriend/boyfriend relationship that is so far from regular friendship? But then I know the answer to that too. It's the attraction, its that one moment, you can kiss them whenever you want, and then the next, you don't have the right to, and then you have to deal with some strange longing and you can't even tell them about it, because you're not supposed to. It's the idea that your faithful to that one person when your inside it, but then next, you don't know who he is with, or who is sleeping next to, and you don't actually have the right to ask them; and its the same for you. I never really understood it until right now. It's always been my goal in those areas to understand the situation, be the adult, handle it like any human to another; but when my time came and I had to make that decision, I failed. I fell hard on a mountain of emotional jealousy, resentment, and some lost idea on tough love. And when I had to say the words, when I had to look the person I loved in the eyes, and tell them that it had to end, and that everything we were was, at that moment, over, I don't think I fully understood what would happen next. Just like that. I saw his handsome face twist into someone I had never met before, a mixture of extreme grief and shock, and then some small hints of anger in his eyes, the betrayal hidden behind his words and sitting on the tightness of his brow. Immunity lost. And we are friends no more. It was at this realization, that I started to wonder if we were ever really friends at all. There are all these rules, all these ideas set up in our society that everyone just abides, but I can't. I can't follow something I don't understand, that doesn't make sense. The relationship I'm referring to is obviously very different from other circumstances; if you haven't read my previous posts, then you should know, my relationship was a good one. I considered him my best friend, he was the person I pictured my entire future on this earth with, he was everything to me; the ending came when I realized that I could never be everything to him. I made the choice, upon many other reasons, to leave. To walk away from our future and our life, thinking it was the best choice for him, and in the end, for myself as well. I never stopped loving him, and I didn't leave because he was a bad person or all the other reasons people usually walk out for. So in my situation, being friends after just made sense. We were awesome at being with each other, at being ourselves, at laughing and going out and we loved being in each others company; but the definition I have of how things ended was very different from his. This is where we get into what it is to really love someone. We both seemed to care, we took that road of love and devotion together, but to sacrifice who we were and who we are for this thing, this immunity that made it okay to be ourselves, and then for him to turn around and act as if none of it ever mattered, that the years we built together were nothing in comparison to that one moment. I watched us grow so high on this tower of memories and love and fights and anger, and then I watched him fall so far and so fast to the person before any of those memories existed. He became a stranger, and all those memories, all those years of laughter and taking care of each other, they were gone; erased in one look and several angry words. And then I spent years pining after someone who never actually existed, the man I thought I knew, or maybe it was just the perspective I created. I think the saddest part was that all I was looking for was a real apology. Not some prideful, attitude ridden, "well you asked me to say it" or "this is what you want" apology. But then...
I've always hated endings. And I'm absolutely terrible with change. Looks like I just have to keep learning. Learning and living. Keep breathing. Take the cold plunge, and soon I'll be soaking in the warmth of what will be; instead of wallowing in all of what was.
“She was grown up; she was twenty-nine! It was only recently that she’d been walking home from the hairdresser’s, feeling gorgeous, and a gaggle of teenage girls walked by, and the sound of their strident giggles made her send a message back through time to her fourteen-year-old self: “Don’t worry, it all works out. You get a personality, you get a job, you work out what to do with your hair, and you get a boy who thinks you’re beautiful.” She’d felt so together, as if all the teenage angst and the failed relationships before Nick had all been part of a perfectly acceptable plan that was leading to this moment, when she would be twenty-nine years old and everything would finally be just as it should be.” -ALICE LOVE / WHAT ALICE FORGOT (LIANE MORIARTY) Now I'm just waiting on the boy who thinks I'm beautiful. He'll make me laugh. He'll talk to me, tell me everything about his day, and then ask me about mine. He'll act like he's tough when he's out with his friends, but then at the mention of my name, he'll be kind and sweet. He'll hold me close and tell me he loves me, and I'll hold him just as tight and remind myself how lucky I am, but then, so will he. We'll both be so appreciative that we could love someone as much as we love each other, and we'll always believe that we love each other more than the other, but then secretly, we'll know the truth. He might keep his feelings to himself, most of the time, but when things get crazy, he'll let himself be vulnerable in front of me. And no matter how many times we fight or we walk away, he'll still hold me when I'm crying. He'll tell me everything will be okay, because he really believes it will be. He'll have conviction and certainty. And so will I. I'll know and understand him, just like he will me. He'll trust me and understand me. He'll be proud of me, and he'll tell me when he knows I need to hear it. He'll let me be myself, and he'll stand by in group of people watching me tell a story or hear my conversation and smile so wide that other people will notice. Our life together will be easy because we love each other easy. We'll fight like other couples, but it will be as simple as a couple of hours apart or in separate rooms, and then a quick hug and an apology, and maybe even a compromise. We'll work together, because in the end, we'll know that we can get through it. And after a long day at work, we'll both come home to the solace that is our place and each other, and we'll do the dishes together, or make dinner, or order in. We'll relax in each other's arms and watch something new on TV. And we'll get ready for bed, we'll lay down together, hear the soft sounds of breathing, and we'll say good night and say "I love you" only to wake up the next morning with one of us touching the other. Rolling over in our sleep and not even knowing it. A hand over the chest, or a leg draped over a hip. “Love to my way of thinking, is the emotion one feels when they meet someone who makes them be what they want to be. We feel love toward someone who shows us the light, who pushes us to become what we have always wanted to become but may have never realized. We love the person who makes us love ourselves.” -ANGELICA SHELTON BELANOV / UNDER THE BLOOD RED MOON (MINA HEPSEN) Something I have been coming to realize so slowly, because I know if I jump right in and say I've known all along, that he never really loved me, I'll stop breathing. I won't know how to handle it, how to accept that all those years that we seemed happy, all those years that became so very apart of my heart and my life, were a lie. An elaborate fantasy mixed with confused emotions and long ago buried skeletons of the past left in the dust just waiting for someone to discover them. I always knew he was torn; torn between the life he wants and the life he is living, torn between who he knows he should be from who he knows he is, torn between what he wants to feel and what he refuses to recognize as his real feelings. I just never saw him as broken or damaged, I've never seen him that way; through my eyes, he was always just one step closer to being the man I knew he could be, even on the days when I knew he was too tired to try. I know now, damaged and broken is how he sees himself, and I was never enough to prove him wrong, I was never his muse, I was never his guiding light...I was just a means to an end, I was a wish that he always assumed would never come true, I was his constant end rather than his new beginning. I'll always love him, with everything I am, but knowing that I could never be what I want to be in his eyes, I don't believe I have the strength, the courage, or the will power to pretend like it might be different someday.
Letting go has never been one of my strong suits, I'm head strong and I have a heart that envelopes and overwhelms people sometimes. I trust easily and forgive constantly. I apologize for everything. I believe that any one can do anything or be anything they want to be if they want it bad enough. I believe in dreams and wishing on stars. I believe in the rain and how it cleanses everything around us. I believe in myself and do my best to try and understand something or someone rather than judge them or assume I know them. I don't give up on people or myself. I do what I think is right, I make choices and I stand by them for better or for worse. I own up and I take responsibility for my actions. I'm honest and straight forward, I don't like playing games with people's minds or their hearts. And still, at the end of the day, I am not perfect. I make mistakes. I fall down. I'm human, and my choices might affect someone else despite whether I believe its right or wrong. All I can do is take control of what I have control over - myself, my actions, my choices, my thoughts, and how I live every day. When I fall, all I can do is get up, and keep going, keep breathing, keep telling myself that everything is going to be okay. And maybe one day, I'll meet someone who will give me something to look forward to, someone who will recognize the days where I struggle to keep going, to keep breathing, and they'll be the one to tell me that everything is going to be okay, and it will be my reminder that we only have one life, and that I'm not running this marathon alone. I'll have a partner, a best friend, a person that enhances my life and pushes me to want to be my best self, and I can only hope I can do that for him too. To be his choice rather than his need. I don't want to be needed, I want to be someone's choice. I want someone to choose me, not out of obligation or necessity, but out of want. This is my definition of real love, and I couldn't ask for anything more in this life. |
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