Month: March 2015

I wish that it would rain.

Dark clouds roll over the clear blue skies. The greys and slates covering every inch of white clouds. Every inch of clear sky becomes vanished in the blanketed covers of the gloomy surroundings. The still of the air transforms into a chill that awakes your bones. You wish for it and you want it. You yearn for this gloominess feeling to stay, comfortable in your layers of never ending clothing. Your armor that shields you from everything and anything. It’s only the darkness that comes in. Everything else is just filler space. The chills, the shadows, all just awaiting the storm.

Waiting patiently.

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I stare at my shoes glued to the pavement. I wrap my coat tighter. Watch my hair dance in sequence with the wind from the corner of my eye. How I wished it would rain, right where I stood. Wishing the rain that fell would flood the grounds that I walk upon and swallow me whole. That all this darkness stood for something, anything besides the illusion of a storm. Watching the leaves fall from the trees and circle in motion beneath my feet. Still I wait. I wait in the cold for any ounce of rain to hit my skin. To fall to the ground and carry me home. Any thing to wake me up from this feeling. This feeling of doubt and sadness that needed a setting to escape to. I listen to the sounds of the rumbling in the clouds and wait for the rain. I watch the clouds anger and light up the dark skies, still I wait.

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I wait patiently.

Sadness has a way of wishing for storms. Wishing for moments to allow the darkness take ahold of the madness you’re feeling inside. I didn’t care. All I wanted was an answer to the skies that blistered with aches. Answers for this hurt feeling of sadness mixed with madness. Still I wait. I pray silently that the rumbling turns into a thunderous rage. That the skies would release their madness in form of tear drops disguised as rain. Then it would matter, then everything would make sense. Watch the rain slick the grounds and cover every inch of the streets. But the skies fail me. They only taunt the feelings and silence the emotions. I watch the skies continue to dark with night and not a drop of rain fall.

Still I wait.

The skies would eventually have to fall. Eventually the weight of the world would hurt the shoulders of the clouds and they’ll have to fall apart. I look up to the skies, close my eyes, and continue to wish for the sky to fall. For the winds to give answers to the cold. For the darkness to answer to this way I am feeling. I won’t run away. With my head in the clouds, I will stay close to the ground and my feet glued to the pavement. I will wait until the I am washed of these feelings and baptized into new sentiments. Wait until the rains fall from the heavens, until they can’t rain no more. Still I see nothing, still I wait.

We are familiar with the smells before rain that guide us into our sadness. Knowing that eventually waiting for never ending droughts, will get us no where but feeling silly for the waiting game. Still I wait. Wait for change, wait for growth, and wait for the rains to fall and hit me whole.

Any minute now, just a little while longer.

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3/13/2014

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Food vs. Debt.

The moment you believe you have everything all figured out is the moment you realize you don’t. For the most part I have my debt under control. However, Debt is always that dark cloud that looms over me. Debt is a funny word with horrible consequences. Who would have ever thought that a word so innocent looking could hurt so much. Its like a bad relationship you can’t escape from. No matter where  you turn, your Debt is right behind you. Taunting you, ridiculing you, and overall just proving to you that you can never get over them.

DEBT in all it’s magnificent, no mercy glory.

I personally hate being in debt. Well lets be really honest, who honestly likes being in debt? Any which way I can pinch a few pennies to reclaim my balance in my life, I just about do. While I have drastically cut out a lot of unnecessary spending, I keep finding myself missing a few hundred dollars. Where exactly does my money go to? I have stopped excess shopping. I have stopped purchasing countless clothes, accessories, shoes, and beauty supplies. I have even stopped purchasing books, notebooks, and supplies. Where else could my money be going? Every dollar is accounted for. I have budgeted all of my expenses and narrowed them down to all the necessities. But what on Earth can be taking a few hundred dollars. While I do put some money into savings, where does the rest of my money go? Thats when it really donned on me.

Food.

I have had problems with food for as long as I can remember and I am no stranger to talking about it on this blog. However, while I have my food problems under control, I cannot manage to control my stress eating. A majority of my recent weight gain is all due primary because of stress. When I have anxiety or if my depression hits an all time low, I eat. Somewhere in my crazy mind, eating relaxes me. I love to eat just as much as the next person. On top of that, it has taken me a long time to be okay with eating. The truth of the matter is, I don’t just eat, I binge. If I am having a crappy day, I’ll go to the grocery store and buy countless things, primarily junk food. Most days I can calm the nerves but once my anxiety hits it’s back to the bottom. It doesn’t stop there, it’s the eating out, its the drinking, its the fancy coffee here and there. It’s not just once a week. Most times its 5 times in one week. Then the next week comes and it starts all over again. While my savings shows me that I am saving money, my bank account shows that I cannot control my spending urges when food is involved.

Depending on season, time of day, and even weather, on average I spend about 100 dollars a week on food. This including the sit down meals, fast food, trips to the grocery store for snacks, coffee from coffee shops, etc. This doesn’t including the tips and gas. On average 100 dollars a week is why I cannot have nice things. I am losing money all for the sake of a good time and my sanity. Instead of finding creative ways to curb my anxiety, I turn to the one thing that always comforts me, food. Food to me is this huge comfy security blanket that I count for everything. If I am having a bad day, it makes it all go away. It makes the feelings of self doubt disappear into the feeling of no self control. I can’t control the urges. As much as I think I have everything under control, I find myself like clockwork holding on to the things I shouldn’t have. It’s easy to say that I can stop at any time. That I can easy calm my nerves and find ways to use all this crazy energy for other things. Just when I am at my weakest moments, I can’t seem to bring myself to do it. While I applaud myself for my efforts in saving money, its the little vices I can’t help but do. A $100 dollars a week does eventually add up. It shows that while I have stopped purchasing things I don’t need, I still can’t stop the urge to shop for something.

In a way I have transferred my need for things into my need for food. Just as clothes and accessories were excuses for temporary happiness, now food has become that way. Everything is a work in progress and while I am happy that my love for food has returned, I still can’t help but use food as another crutch. I am not saving money if I am still buying unnecessary things. I am not being healthy if I continue to use food as my stress reliever. Lately I have found myself avoiding grocery stores when I am feeling down. I have to second guess my need to get fast food, and limited my coffee drinks to at least once a week. While I still have my urges to buy snacks, its not as drastic as it was months prior. While I still have problems dealing with anxiety and depression, I have to find creative ways to get this energy out. At least I know where my money is going.

Food 0
Debt $400

UGH.

Blonde Ambition.

There comes a moment in your life where you need a change. Something to go from invisible to visible. The years of playing the disappearing act and wanting that need to reappear. Better, different, someone other than how people remember you. You change your clothes, you change your attitude and if you’re drastic enough you change your hair color. I am all for every aspect of change, including in the hair department. When you change your hair, you change different aspects of yourself.

New beginnings and this constant need for change. If you change your insides you want your outsides to match. Finding myself shedding my skin from one extreme to another. Adapting these different versions of how I want to be and how I want to conduct myself. I want the change because it’s the change thats making me feel this way. When you spend these moments disappearing, all you want is that moment to reappear. The disappearing act you made of your life, now is the time for your comeback. I have done everything humanly possible to my hair all in the name of “new beginnings”. I have chopped it in different variations of layers, cuts and trims. I have dyed it every color imaginable, and yet I’ve always kept it safe. I’ve always stuck to highlights, honey glows, and if I’m feeling adventurous reds and pinks just for fun. At times you become influenced by your surroundings, you feel a peer pressure from your friends. In the name of growing up and feeling different, you take the advice of various different people.

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There is a whole process that goes into a hair transformation. There’s the “Should I?”, “Can I pull it off?” and then the “Screw it”. I have seen my fair share of “Screw it” with drastic conclusions. Anything then the ordinary, anything then what you see before you. Different, dramatic, drastic. When I decided to go blonde, I jumped off the bridge and did it. At the time I was going through a lot of different emotions and in the in-between stages of growing up and acting grown up. I had a new job, I had moved back home for what seemed like the 100th time, I just wanted something to show for all my new things. On top of everything, I had money. Money saved, money in the back, and more importantly brand new shiny credit cards to take care of everything. I loved it. I still wasn’t grasping the concept of being an adult but still I had money to take me to the next level. It’s amazing what you do in the name of new beginnings and it’s amazing the bullshit things you put up with once people know you have money.

When I went blonde, I thought a new change in hair color was what I needed to be an adult. I had seen countless of my peers go through drastic hair changes and watched their careers change. I watched their lives change from ordinary to extraordinary. I wanted that. I didn’t care how much it cost, I just wanted to see if my insides would mirror image my outsides. If I did all these things, would it change me.  What they don’t tell you in the magazines is how much maintenance goes into a hair change. They don’t tell you how your scalp is going to feel, they don’t tell you how your hair would feel, and more importantly they don’t tell you how you will feel in the end. I had people telling me it was a great choice and just what I needed to grow. Deep down I hated it. I know it was just hair, but even with a bad haircut I couldn’t just grow out a bad dye job. It is just hair and complaining about it is first world problems. This was my hair, this was my comfort zone of emotions. This was my security blanket of protected emotions. I spent more time obsessing over my hair then changing anything with my life. I spent money on every type of shampoo, conditioner, treatment, product to make my hair feel normal. I didn’t feel like a grown up. If anything I felt like a child hiding from a bad mistake. I watch the new beginning feelings I had tarnish then disappear. While I was more visible to the world, I myself felt invisible. Nobody saw me, they saw a big blob of platinum blonde hair before they even knew who I was. I craved the attention but hated the reactions.

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Sometimes in life you have to file things under “Great Idea at the time”. Eventually the going back and forth to get my hair touched up was costing me a fortune. The countless products to make my hair feel like hair again, were putting me in debt. Instead of feeling visible, I found myself disappearing. I put myself into a depression because of how unhappy I was. All the money I had went into making my hair feel like myself again. Everything I was feeling on the inside, wound up making it’s way to my outsides. It wasn’t just the hair, it was this need to appear to be someone I wasn’t. I was so severely unhappy with myself that becoming someone else wasn’t helping either. I needed to fix that. Equipped with a 5 dollar bottle of box dye, I did just that. In a matter of minutes I watched the months of unhappiness, darken into happiness.

While everything I was feeling was deeply rooted by my past, I knew it was a journey to make myself happy again. A hair color wasn’t going to magically change my life for me. I was haunted by the demons of my life that was only handicapping my happiness. All these “new beginnings”, I wanted were never going to work until I changed myself. No haircut, hair color, change of clothes was going to change that. I had to work on myself on the inside and watch it work itself to the outside. Money wasn’t going to solve everything. While the 5 dollar bottle of box dye saved me from myself, it wasn’t a miracle worker. I still had a ways to go, but at that moment I felt okay. That’s all I wanted to feel.

I’m okay, I promise.

Six Hour session from Black Brown to Platinum Blonde:  $235  (not including tip)
Touch up roots, every month: $150 (not including tip)
Shampoo to maintain color: $29.99
Conditioner: $15.99
Deep Conditioning Treatment: $11.99
Blonde Spray Wax: $14.99
Blonde Wax: $9.99
Gas to get to appointments: $40 (appointments were out of town with a professional hair stylist)

 

 

She wrote me a letter from San Diego.

My mind is cleansing itself of the past. Which brings me to how I feel today. Reliving old conversations and revisiting old promises from years prior. Because it’s what I do best, going through the scabs and learning to live with the scars. We said one day, we would make it there. All the way to sunny San Diego. Run away from this god forsaken town, and into hideaway of the summer sun. That was always the plan. You had never been and I had been far too many times. What a great place to get away and forget anyone ever existed. Away from the judging eyes, the crazy people, and the homes that have long forgotten us. God, how I loved the idea of running in and out of trouble and escaping to the southern California sun.

I’ve never been so lost
I’ve never felt so much at home
Please write my folks and throw away my keys

That seems to be the thing lately. Running away from problems, instead of dealing with everything head on. I should have seen all the signs, instead I played with the idea. It would be better for us to run and leave this place behind. Into the coast and becoming different people. Completely opposites of who we really are. Maybe then things would be different for us. We wouldn’t feel like strangers, we wouldn’t hurt each other anymore. Maybe after you have been somewhere else, you’d be kinder to me. We’d be kinder to each other. Mirages are illusions and even your words played tricks on me. I could be easily wooed and easily persuaded, and just the same easily fooled. It was the idea of the grass being greener on the other side of the state, that I could plot and plan our escape. I was wrong and most days its hard letting go.

There’s a fear that comes before me once I reach the golden coast. Once I drive through the sandy beaches and breathe in the salty air. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened had we made it there. Had we lived in this runaway mode and left with only what we had on us. Down the western coast and into the southern regions of our escaped minds. This city is tainted for me, I could never go back. Even if it never happened, I could never return. The memory of pacts you make with forgotten people, change you completely in the end. Its mad to believe people have that hold over your reality. That they hold this nostalgic tainted feeling that ruins the present for you. I loved San Diego but all I think about is this promise of being someone else. Anyone else then who we were at that current time. I see the present and can’t help but feel lost in this sea of sand, wind, and the sun. Its not the southern coast, it’s not what I used to love. It’s not you and me and what we believed we wanted from each other.

and maybe I could live forever
If not ever I had known
that you’d be waiting here whenever I am all alone

All of that is done and over with. As the years progress, I can’t keep hiding from cities where your memories exist. I can’t keep searching for you on the streets of my mind. You are not there and you never were. I just have to accept that. Growing up means letting go and hopefully I can finally be done with these thoughts. These foolish memories of pretending that this was what I wanted in the end. We were never going and that’s a fact. One day, I’ll finally go back. One day I’ll finish writing you that letter and send it postmarked San Diego. Its then you’ll know I am not coming back with you.

4/12/2009

 

I know, yeah you too.

op·por·tun·ist:
a person who exploits circumstances to gain immediate advantage rather than being guided by consistent principles or plans.

Opportunists come in all shapes and sizes. They wear their masks better than the rest of the fakes and phonies. Flocking to you like a moth to a light. They can’t help but want everything you got. Use you, abuse you, then hang you out to dry. Always needing something from everybody, always there for the taking. Where do we find these people? Actually, Stop. We don’t find these people, they find us. They stalk their prey from the darkest depths of our vulnerable souls and take everything they can from us.  Take everything that you need, obviously you need it more than we do.

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I must have SUCKER on my forehead because I seem to fall for everything. I am standing in a new generation of opportunists. Standing in a crowd of people who use me and I can’t help but watch them do so. Watch them use me, use my family, take my money, and then go on to the next series of people. Watch their armies of acquaintances defend their honor. It’s cool, I thought we were friends too. It’s amazing what you believe, when someone is taking everything out from under you. After they’re done with you, it’s back to the shelf of used toys until they need you again. Maybe in a day, a week, or a month, they’ll come back. They always come back.

Living in an age of carbon copies and no one wants to be original. Let me leave everyone the blue prints of my life, so they can copy my entire existence. A copy will always be a copy. No matter how you change the appearance of the opportunity. Opportunists want what they can turn around and make their own. Using all of everyones resources to make the best representation of themselves. One of these days, the little opportunist that cried wolf, will not be saved. Next time people need something from me, call on all the other people that they have on their rotation of using. I sure as hell don’t need people like that in my life. When you can count how many times you need people and you can’t help yourself, maybe it’s time for a life change.

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If I stop feeding the opportunists, maybe they’ll finally stop leeching off of my life. Stop and realize that what they’re doing is wrong. I am tired of helping people that couldn’t give a shit about my well being. Who don’t take the time to see whats up in my life. You only need me when y’all want something. I am done. If you don’t hear from me, it’s because I’ve done found you out. After you have everything you want from me, when do I get to use you?

It doesn’t matter what I say anyway. Opportunists are just gonna jump from me to you. A never ending cycle of using to get used. I hope it’s worth it.

Call me when you need me.

2/28/2015

 

 

 

 

 

 

Left and Leaving.

I am afraid of Goodbyes, which has made it hard for me to let go. Holding on to things long after the after glow. It should be easy to be done and over with it all, but I keep coming back for more. Waiting for people to change, waiting for everything and the in-between. I can change everything else in my life but I can’t change the feeling of letting someone go. Holding on to the nostalgia of different times when things really mattered, realizing it never really mattered at all.

Why does it always happen to me? Am I not enough? Don’t you care enough to stay?

People are so self consumed in there own misery to notice you. I am no stranger to that. But when you need something you call on me, I always listen. It’s only when you need me around that you can find me. It’s been months since communication stopped and still you need me around. It’s hard letting go to the people that only need you sometimes. The flood of memories surrounding you don’t out weigh the outcome. If I bleed, would you even notice? If I said I needed you, would you bother to be there? We are all in the market to use someone. We make friends to legions and flocks of people, just to use from them all their resources. Needing something from everybody. Occupy our time with the expectations of a good time. I can’t pretend that it doesn’t hurt when people forget me. I can’t pretend that no matter how many times I try, It’s just not enough. Who am I to compete with the beautiful and damned? Who am I to say that feeling alone is never really lonely?

If I was perfect, people would want me. If I had everything you needed, people would need me. If I hadn’t said all the things I said, people would care enough to listen to my story. People can go into silence and pretend that memories are just ghost stories of the past. Maybe that’s all I am, a funny story of the past. Something you tell yourself to feel better about the past. When you’ve dried up your last resource is when people come back. I wish I could be that person for you. That I didn’t feel like just another photograph that you filter out the imperfections. Some days it hurts and some days its easier to forget people. Thats all I am trying to do, have the courage to forget people. Making the goodbyes, easier to say.

For the first time I didn’t feel like inviting you out. I stopped including you in my stories. I stopped planning adventures and asking you to go. If I pretend you don’t exist, it makes it hurt less. Maybe all silence ever is, is a softer way of leaving and letting go.  I watched the memories turn to dust and replaced them with something shiny and new. It’s after you are left alone that the leaving becomes easier. If it wasn’t for me to reach out, I wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with. All we need is to be alone with our thoughts to finally grow up and let go. I find myself becoming a grown up. I am growing up, as much as I wish I wasn’t. We all are, even you. I just wish I could see it all through.

2/4/2015

 

 

The Oregon Trail.

When you embark on a journey, you always set out to find yourself. In your wonderland expectations of personality and living. You run to the highest mountains and sink in the deepest seas. Crave the adventure of new experiences and wish for completely new beginnings. When I packed my bags, I wished it was for forever. I wished that I could be a lost soul and roam the coast until I found myself again. That I could run away to the mountains and be lost amongst the greenery settings. All the years I hid behind the shadows, I never realized how much I missed the sun.

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There is a picturesque magic of the western coast. Something people seldom see. Sometimes even we that reside on the west coast, become so jaded by our own thoughts that we forget how beautiful we have it. If I could photograph every line of the journey, I would. Even photographs wouldn’t do it justice. The magic of the greens from the trees, the beauty of the waters so clear, and how the air just fills your lungs with this joyous pure emotion. If this was forever, I would take it. Take every last bite of this green earth and return to the trails of Oregon. I am living in a dream and only reality could bring me down to earth.

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I spent a lifetime hiding in the shadows of my misery, missing opportunities of the sun. The roads that lead to nowhere seem to guide you home. Most days, I don’t even know where home is. Home is a combination of here to there and a little bit of everywhere. Passenger seats and confessing my deepest hopes to the dashboard of road companions. Where do we go from here? To the deep blue seas and the frigid waters of the lakes hidden in the trees. To the people that make you feel alive and the strangers that hit you with the reality of coming home. I am never ready to go home. Never ready to even entertain the idea of returning back to reality. All I could ever want is to hide amongst the trees and lose myself in the picturesque scenery.

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The greener the city, the prettier the sunset. Seeing stars for the first time with clear eyes, that have been lost amongst the concrete buildings. At any minute this would be over and I will run back home. Home seems like a distant memory and some days, I am afraid to go home. Afraid of conforming to everyone else’s standards. Afraid of being stuck under the same four walls of my insecurities. The journey is almost over and through the smiling and the laughter, I feel home. Something I haven’t felt in the years of journeys of my youth. Something that was always lost in the translation. It doesn’t matter how far I go in my lifetime, I am always going to go home. Even if most days, home is just a distant memory.

One day I’ll return to the cities too beautiful to explain with words. One day I will find a way to leave home and find out where I really belong. Until that moment I regroup and return to my same four walls, to plan my next escape. All life is just another chance to escape, and one day I won’t come home. I’ll find my way back to you, I’ll find where I belong.

One day.

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Girl on Fire.

If you cut my wings, I’ll only bleed. I will stay close to the ground in the ashes of the fire, that you burn before me. You will break my heart but I will not be broken. You cannot break me. I will not be weak for your affection nor attention. I will not be defeated. I’ll bleed in the aftermath of the fire but I will not burn. I refuse to burn for your amusement. I’ll bleed through your battles but will win the war. I have been down this road too many times before. The rivers will bleed in the bloods of my sorrow but my strength will see me through.

So bright, she can burn your eyes, Better look the other way

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Do not mistake my kindness for weakness. I will cry, I will break, but I refuse to burn. It’s the ashes of the fires that will see me through. You cannot hurt me for I will rise above this. Your words are your fists to plummet me to the ground, but you will not come up victorious. You use your words to break me but I will not be broken. I will break to bleed but you will not cut my wings. You cannot hurt my wounded soul with the words of your grief and sorrow. You will not hurt me no more. I may be black and blue but you will not defeat me. I will not be defeated.

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I will watch the flames you throw at me burn, but I am untouchable. For the flames turn to ashes that I will rise above. Through the ashes I will see this through. I am not afraid of you. I dust the ashes from my skin and watch myself overcome these wounds. My cuts they bleed and scab but soon they heal. I am on the mend from this bloody mess that you put me through. You cannot clip my wings. You cannot hurt this wounded vessel that once burned for you. Black and blue and bleeding through. Fighting fire with fire will only burn you. You will not hurt me anymore. I bind you in your misery and misfortune, you will not touch me. I refuse to let you hurt me. It’s my wings that I use to fly far from you. From this mess, this hurt, this pain. I will not burn. I will bleed, I will scab, but I will not burn. Not for you. Not for anyone. If you cut my wings, I’ll only bleed but you cannot defeat me.

I will not be defeated.

She’s just a girl, and she’s on fire

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is why I can’t have nice things.

What a difference a year makes..

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March 9, 2015, will mark a year since I started writing in 30, Fabulous, & Broke aka “This is why I can’t have nice things”. I started this blog on the premise of discussing and fully understanding where my money goes. Why a person of my age (the graceful age of 32) cannot get a handle of her money and the rest of my peers can. In order to see where my money goes, I started to catalog when I started to go wrong in the money department. I loved money, but I had a hard time keeping money as I started to get older. With a mountain of accumulated debts, I needed to see what was so important that I constantly felt the need to throw my money away.

When I started this blog, I was not expecting people to read this. Sure I love storying telling as much as the next person, but I honestly believed that maybe only 1 person would read this. While I am proud of my blog Broke City Style, I wasn’t sure how people would take my own person approach to this blog. This blog is my life as it happened and is happening. This is my heart and soul on the line. I tend to hide all of my emotions and to admit to my debts, meant admitting failure. Was I ready to tell the world of my problems? To be honest, I wasn’t. You reach a point in your life where enough is enough. My debt was the weight of the world on my shoulders and emotionally it was eating me up inside. It was either stay silent and feel miserable or write about my problems. Throughout this year, I didn’t expect anything aside from pinching a few pennies and talking about it. I wasn’t expecting to understand that the root of all my money problems was an emotional bleed. I wasn’t expecting to spill out every single one of my flaws for the world to see. Sure to tell a funny story here and there, but to spill out my guts for my peers to see? I wasn’t sure I was ready for that. I soon realized that the emotional stories out weighed all the humor. That I was really coming to terms with a lot of my problems from my past that have stayed in my present.

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You really do not understand your limits until you see them written down. I didn’t realize how my own personal problems resulted in my spending. I didn’t realize that my spending was a trigger to all my other emotional problems. While I knew I was heartbroken about the loss of key people into my life, I never realized that even those people made me miserable. Even people I considered my best friends were making me sick. Even the person I was completely in love with, was hurting me in ways I could never explain. I didn’t realize that even my own personal emotions had a price tag. That for every binge, I spent money. For every heartbreak, I threw away to purchase a brand new everything. For every cut, I masked it and dressed it with a new something. I was hiding my bruises and heartbreak in the only way I knew I could, by spending everything. It wasn’t healthy and I knew that as much as I stated that I was “Okay”, I wasn’t.

Throughout the year, it has been a process. I have cried more than humanly possible. I have sacrificed a lot just to be able to take care of myself. I have also started being honest with who I am and my own personal progress. I have stated millions of times that I am not a perfect person. Even the people who have hurt me are not perfect people. People change, grow up and become completely different people. I can respect that and hope only for peace in their path which is what I wish for myself. Nobody is perfect. I am going to fall a million times until I can walk on my own two feet. I am going to break my heart and screw up, until I can be completely free of my own insecurities. I can live with that. Thank you to anyone and everyone that has read, commented, liked, reblogged, talked to me in regards to this blog. Honestly, thank you from the bottom of my little heart. I couldn’t have gone through life without the love and support of my family and friends. I couldn’t have written this blog without the encouragement and support of my amazing network of great and fabulous people. Thank you, Thank you, Thank you.

I may still have my flaws but inside I am golden. It’s all because of you guys. For that I am undoubtedly grateful. ❤

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Out of the woods.

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You took my hand and said If nobody knows, no one will get hurt. Keeping quietly calm and seeing who was better at the breaking. I wasn’t ready to jump from him to you, but still we found our way to play our part. Better than the rest of them. We couldn’t make it out like the best of them. We stayed behind in the misty fog hidden behind the trees of the lies we told ourselves.

The rest of the world was black and white, but we were in screaming color

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It was easy to put your photographs in the frames of my memory. For once I gave a shot a chance but I didn’t know we weren’t built to last. Your hand mimicked my hand perfectly. Still I thought we stood a chance. Not everything about us was broken. We masked our scars with the flaws of our misguided youth. We weren’t the ones to stop to smell the roses. Instead we cleaned up shiny and new, pretending that everything was alright. Then the screaming, then the lying, came the denying, to the hurt, and now the pain. Is this what you wanted? No one will ever find out. No one will ever know. I can hide the bruises of my heart and if nobody knows, no one will ever get hurt.

Remember when we couldn’t take the heat
I walked out, I said, I’m setting you free

It was never a game of choosing sides. But you chose hers and I chose mine. That was it for me. When you made the assumption that you were greater than what you were, is the same moment you lost me to her. Not everything about us was bad but we buckled under the weight of our deception. I came out black and blue and you still came out golden. I came out wanting you and still you wanted the woods with their monsters and liesThe monsters of your words still chase me into the woods. Through the fog and into the misty trails. How did I let this go so far? How do I get out of here and know I am safe from the bullshit misconceptions of love? I’ll never make it out of here alive.

Tell me when the coast is the clear.

Are we out of the woods yet?
Are we in the clear yet?
In the clear yet, good

tswift

 

3/17/2006