Don’t you dare fucking ruin this one for me too
Don’t you dare fucking ruin this one for me too
Every time
I turn around
There you are
The dark monster of my dreams
Eating everything I have that’s good, alive
You
Pick
And
Pull
And
Grin
At my misery
Pick
And
Pull
And
Grin
At my sorrow
The mask
Must come off,
Dark monster
Reveal yourself
17 year old you was so fucking corny and its so fucking cute
i read my old blog posts and cringe to no return
i read my old poems and i start to tear up
i’m reminded of the emotions i felt and i know what i’ve healed from
and what i havent
i’m so glad i wrote this blog.
lord knows if i’ll ever start again
just wanted to reflect.
Little miss hopeless romantic
Little miss people pleaser
little miss answers your texts right away and hands out trust without a second glances
little miss falling in love with the type of people who need healing more than romance
little miss always sees the good
little miss making excuses for your unkindness
little miss loved you too much
little miss couldnt walk away when i knew i should
little miss second and third chances. fourth and fifth and sixth
little miss had enough
little miss beginning to unravel the lies you told me
little miss realizing empty hearts deserve empty hands
little miss taking back who i was before all of this
little miss realizing that i am worth more
little miss i am my little miss before i was ever yours
-whitney hanson
i miss writing
my inspirations gone
thanks for visiting
why is it that loneliness swallows you whole?
like the darkness in the hall when you were a child
the fear of the monster under your bed
happiness is the barely glowing nightlight
sitting there plugged into the corner, flickering
when all you want is the lights to be o n
all
the fucking
time
time flies
but also
moves like the snail I saw trying so desperately to cross the lawn this morning
I am sad
like the clown you used to wake up in a hot sweat about
fucking indecision haunts me, making the days feel like weeks & the weeks feel like years
23
Am I old? Am I young?
time moves and moves and the wrinkles begin to show with each day, week, year that passes
I can feel them growing
24 calls to me
like you used to
You’ll tell everyone you’re different, but you’re just a shade of grey that never stuck out to anybody.
It’s been almost four fucking years, wordpress. How the heck are ya?
God. 4 years.
A lot of shit has happened to me these past four years. (I still love repetition)
I’ve been in a relationship for 3 1/2 of em. I still live in the same area, and I never did get into university. Graduated from my CC and have been floating ever since.
I think part of the floating has to do with the fact I stopped posting on here. Stopped writing, creating. Discontinuing creativity is a bad bad thing to do. Don’t ever stop creating.
I really haven’t been writing for the past 4 years. I think I gave it up because I gave myself up. I’m afraid to be vulnerable. I’m still incredibly untrusting of everyone. I mean I double check everyones work & I don’t believe them when they say I love you.
Just kidding about that last one, it just sounded poetic.
Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about what I’m doing in life, who I want to be with, where I want to be. Recently got a promotion, so I changed gears there, hanging around new and different people and rethinking the old ones. I’m at a crossroads, and I’m not sure which path to take.
Change is scary, isn’t it? But it’s also good. And healthy. And needed every once in a blue moon.
I fucking crave adventure. I crave experience. I crave people.
I’m just in a situation where I’m limited and so I’m struggling
STRUGGLING
I also want to reflect on my 19 year old self and remind myself that I AM AMBITIOUS ON MY OWN. My identity is so wrapped up in my relationship, I have trouble differing if I am who I am without him. Constantly questioning. But 19 year old me! Beautiful. Young. A bit naive, but also a dreamer. Dreamer! There it is. I was not nothing before him. I dreamed of a future where I did what I was passionate about & loved life. I was on a path to something greater. I do not have to be an entrepreneur or an internet sensation. As long as I do what I am passionate about, everything will be right in the world.
Now what am I doing? Taking care of him. Watching television. Working 60+ hours a week? What the fuck happened to me? Where did my creativity and sense of self worth go?
At the end of the summer, I’m done. I will independently be me. Refer to my break up post. And this.
Thank god for social media.
I can’t fucking sleep
And I can’t fucking read
I can’t fucking write
And I can’t fucking speak
All I can do is lay in bed
And think
And think
And think and think