honesty

What’s wrong baby?

Why are you single?
Why haven’t you dated anyone?
Why aren’t you dating?

So on and so forth.

If I had a nickel for every time I have been asked the above questions. People make it sound so easy. Falling down, dusting yourself off and then trying again. I know everyone means well. At the risk of sounding crazy, I just let people assume what they want to believe. Its easier for people to believe what they want about me, then having to tell them how I really feel. Because how I feel people seldom understand. I feel scared, I feel crazy, and most times I feel completely broken.

Broken in the sense that my past has broken me into a different person. Instead of shaping me into a better version of myself. I find it harder to trust people, because the past has a funny way of coming back to haunt me. When people have hurt you, it takes a while to come back from. I watch how easy it is for my peers to jump from relationship to relationship. Meanwhile, I watch myself still haunted by the past, with it’s broken words and promises. Hurt does that to you. It breaks and bleeds everything you touch. It claws at your insides, until the raw emotion eats at your soul. I was never like this before. I loved this illusion that love gave you. I loved the sappy love songs, the cliche films that remind you what love should look and feel like. I loved this idea of love and the beautiful orchestrated soundtrack it came with. Now I feel like a completely different person. This illusion of love has broken up my insides and rebuilt itself a different person.

How do you tell a stranger you feel broken? How do you describe it in a way that doesn’t scare off the other person? That pieces of you are slowly going back together again, but the pieces have left you shattered and cynical about love. When people ask you the same questions, how do answer truthfully without sounding tragic?

I don’t know where to start. I don’t know how to tell a complete stranger that someone broke me down completely. With words that are still tattooed on the inside of my heart and creep out onto my skin. The past is the past, but how can you be honest with someone, when you can’t be honest with yourself. Some days it hurts like hell and I want to claw every piece of flesh on my body. I want to scream out every obscenity until it doesn’t hurt anymore. Because thats what hurt feels like. Even after six years, the words don’t feel so vividly anymore, but they still haunt me. They’re faint insignificant words that still linger after the smoke has cleared. I know that not every one is like that. I know people won’t hurt me as bad as my past was. Still, it hurts and I can’t pretend that it doesn’t.

I feel as if these fingers continue to point at me, and I haven’t a clue what to say when people ask me why I don’t put myself out there. You might as well just state “What’s wrong with you?“. I don’t know how to answer those questions without being honest. Then at the same time, I have this need to keep guarded about my feelings. Trusting people is hard. Especially when your heart has been through a lot. I don’t know how to start a conversation with a stranger and not feel completely broken. People want the truth. People want you to be open and honest.  I know that. Deep down, I know that. I want to be open. I want to say everything I have in my heart. I want a level of trust to return, where I can feel open to be honest. It’s hard for me to be open. It’s hard for me to say how I feel, and instead I change the subject completely.

I am not asking for anyone to pick up my pieces. I just want people to understand that its not easy. It just takes some time to feel like myself again. If it takes me a day, a month, or a year, I know I will feel like myself again. Some days are easier than others. I am not sure if this answers anyones questions or judgments about me, but here it is. These are my cards on the table. Take it or leave it.

12/7/2015

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9/8/2015 – Day Twenty – Two.

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I was suppose to go to a baseball game tonight.

Everything was going to be alright. I printed out my tickets, laid out my clothes and had every intention of going. Anything to get out of the house and keep driving. Anything to clear my thoughts. But I didn’t want too. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. People will say it was because my team has been playing terribly, but I knew better.  When you’re depressed even the things you love become burdens in your life. Going to that game felt like a burden to me. I didn’t have it in me to go and feel stuck. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be alone, I just didn’t want to be there. I didn’t want to go through this whole routine, this whole superstition.  I didn’t feel good, I didn’t feel safe, and for the first time, nothing felt right.  I hate admitting that. Admitting I have flaws in all the wrong times for all the wrong reasons. I just couldn’t bring myself to do something I loved, out of fear of my own emotions. I can’t control them anymore.

I drank for the first time in a long time last night. Drank just to keep my nerves from going insane. It’s weird how alcohol makes you feel when you haven’t had a lot of it. Maybe I am crazy. Everything that I once loved is turning into everything I hate, and I can’t understand it. I feel as I am not good to anyone. I have disconnected myself from the world and watching everything happen in fast forward. Alienating myself away from everyone. I don’t want my negativity to rub off on anyone. Therefore I keep everything to myself and just find way to pass time.

Anything, everything and moving on.

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I was suppose to go to a baseball game and prove to myself, I could still do things that I love. Still have this feeling that at any moment I could fall in love all over again. Instead I opened the blinds and watched the sun rise and the sun fall from the sky. Cascading vibrant colors and begging me to go outside. It didn’t seem right to waste the day. Didn’t seem right to feel this way, but I did. I couldn’t help myself but continue to look out the window and watch the seconds turn to minutes and then minutes to hours. I don’t want to be here, but I’m too afraid too leave.

Liar, Liar.

I am attracted to liars. People that stretch the truth farther than Pinochio’s nose ever could go. Their personified existence that stand in the balance of reality and dreaming. Words are more believable than actions, everyone knows that. Oh, how I love the words that spill out of your tongue and out onto the open spaces of air between us. You’re always right, and I am always wrong.

You think I don’t know that everything you say, never matches up to what you mean. That every single conversation you expect me to believe, is just another fabricated idea you wished were true. Because a lie is far too beautiful to be untrue. Lies are more beautiful than the vicious honest truth. I love words more than I love people, because even people let you down. But words? They’re just little letters and sounds that clutter up open spaces.

Will you let me down? Will you let me down this time?

Standing tall on clouds and building castles in the skies. The words you say in the clear cold air becomes the clouds that fog through the city and the streets. People never want to hurt you. People never mean what they say. All they want is for you to believe them and never leave their side. Tell me what I want to hear, tell me all the pretty things I need to believe. Tell me everything and then when I am gone tell me nothing in return.

Everything you say is lies and every day I keep fighting for whats true. Every single day I believe you and every single time I know that it’s not true. But then a light shines down from your clouds, down from beneath your castles, and in that moment I believe in you just a little bit longer.

You’re nothing but a liar. Liar, Liar, every things untrue.

8/8/2015

 

Best Friends means…

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Someone once told me that in the course of your life you become friends with 4 people. Out of those 4 people, only 3 of them are your good friends. Out of those 3,  only 2 of them become your best friends. Out of those 2, only 1 of them you can honestly trust. That one person you can trust is yourself. Trust no one and no one will let you down. Of course the first time I heard that I thought it was complete horse shit. What does this person know about friendships? My friends are everything to me, what does this person know about friendship that I don’t already know.  When you’re young, you believe that everyone is your friend. Everyone is just like you, understands all your problems. They’re the family that you choose that you’re not born into. They’re the only people in the world that will have your back when the rest of the world shuns you out.

What a pipe dream.

You wind up becoming friends with a diverse rotating wheel of characters. Some do withstand the testament of time, while others don’t become so lucky. The point of growing up is finding yourself. Finding yourself, discovering who you are and what you’re about. When you’re young, you would do anything for your friends. You would even sacrifice you’re own happiness if that meant you could keep the party going. Keep the motion of staying young forever and live in a time snapshot of all your golden accomplishments with your friends. What you don’t realize when you’re younger is that you grow up eventually. Some of your friends grow up, wise up, and build foundations of their owns. While others dim silently in their plastic red solo cup struggling to adjust to life after the after party. Everyone is different. Every has different aspirations in life. We’re all just one huge hustle after the next. We grow up and hang on to whatever dream we thought we had throughout youth. Most of the time the dreams we hold so close to ourselves are the friendships we base solely on these notions. We’re young, we’re going to live forever, and holding on to those 2am nights were strangers become the only people that understand your deepest darkest secrets.

Of course. I was one of those people.

In the course of my life, I had the privilege of being friends with a wide diversity of people.  Obviously it’s no surprise that in my quest of reinvention that I had a tendency to befriend the wrong types of people. I understand that no one is perfect. Hell, I’ve written post after post of my imperfections. I just find a tendency to find the broken people. The people so done with life that they’d live in a constant state of euphoria and I find myself clinging to that notion. Maybe because I was broken, and finding comfort in the same people just gave me a sense of belonging. We were a set of misfit toys and nobody understood us. It’s funny to look back now because from the time I was 20 to the time I turned 28, it was the same type of people. The faces may have changed but they were all so similar. With their insecurities, their bad habits and all of their bad intentions. It’s funny how much I defended them. To the point that I honestly believed deep down somewhere we were all friends. The reality was I was just a broken chump and they saw that. They saw through my vulnerabilities and broken parts. Instead of being a group of a good friends, I became just another person they manipulated to get everything they wanted.

People have always asked me why I stay so guarded. Even opening up to my own “best” friends was hard. The moment I told my true vulnerabilities was the same moment that my “friends” used those things against me. They did. No matter how many times I heard “I would always have your back”, in every argument I was screamed at the very vulnerabilities I confided in them. It was the never ending cycle of taking their bullshit in because I was too tired to defend myself. Friendships were always one sided with one person always there for the taking, and the other always their metaphorical punching bag (and at times their own personal punching bag). I can be honest and say that at certain times I wasn’t the best person. I lied, cheated, schemed and even manipulated people to get my way. They say that karma happens when you least expect it. It always tends to come back to you with a familiar face of a friend. I couldn’t help myself. In the midst of my own social awkwardness and psychological bullshit, I was blinded to believe people were actually my friends. In 4 years I lost 15 of my allegedly close friends. 15 people that stated they would always be there for me. Always have my back. 10 of them were my good friends, 4 of them were my close friends, and 1 was my best friend. It’s amazing how things and people change in the course of a few years. I went from having countless people call me to complete silence on my phone. Somewhere inside I believed that those people were my friends. That those people that saw me for who I was actually gave a shit about me. Truth was I just their friend. I was there to pick up their broken pieces to lift them up out of a jam. I was the one with the wallet that would take care of everything. Once the party ended, and the money was gone, I was left with the sober reality of complete nothing. You learn a lot about yourself when you start drinking, but you learn more about people once you stop. Once I stopped wanting to make everything a party and living my life for people was the moment everyone became so vile and malicious. I started saying more “NO” than “Yes” and everyone made me out to be the bad guy. Because I stopped being a personal chauffer and stopped paying for things, I was the villain? Once I started asking for money back or wanting to do things by myself, I was the bad guy? Before I knew it the same people that “would take  bullet for me” were creating lies about me. I was difficult. I was a snob. I was the person who was better than everyone.

It’s laughable now. Now that I can see through the bullshit it’s funny. These same people that couldn’t cross the street without holding someone’s hand. Those same people that still cry and complain about their personal relationships to anyone who would listen. The broken people who always believe their problems are bigger than everyone else’s instead of showing an ounce of compassion for another person. They were so vile to point out my flaws but never once realized that the one finger they so violently pointed at me, they had 3 more pointing at themselves. I was done the moment the rumors started and people started turning away. I was done the moment my texts were ignored and they were too chicken shit to tell me the real demise of our friendship. I was through the moment a chunk of my hair was removed from my head and the photo of my hair was posted on social media sites. Here I thought we were all united by our flaws but reality of it all was these friends were just bullies. We weren’t friends because that isn’t friendship. The same honesty they threw at me, they never liked to hear about themselves. I was constantly the villain and their were always the victims. Because I was so fucked up, I believed them. I was naïve to think the number of friends you have meant something. The number of friends I had were nothing more than another debt I had to pay off and pretend to smile through.

When you finally grow up and let go is when you realize the reality of it all. None of those people were my friends. Even the people I considered my best friends, our friendship was  held on by some false illusion of a past that was never great to begin with. Its so easy to say words and convince a person to believe them. That’s the thing with people. Anyone can say words to you, and everyone is a great master manipulator. I just grew tired of words and would rather see actions. You can scream to the rooftops how sorry you are but I won’t believe you. You can tell a person how you can change but people never do. The best thing you can do is give a person a shot at a second chance and if nothing changes just let go. If they’re out of second chances, let them go. If you’re holding on to friendships because of the years you have known each other, that’s not a friendship. If the number of times you have been there for a person out numbers the times they have been there for you, LET THEM GO. The people who are worth it will always show you, and the people who are not always disappear. It sucks and it’s heartbreaking, sometimes friendship breakups hurt more than actual breakups. We all go through them. It hurts to miss them, it hurts to remember, but you grow because of them. They make you realize and appreciate the friendship that you do keep. They teach you that while your trust has been broken eventually you find people that will never hurt you like those people did. While those people weren’t the greatest friend to you, hopefully they find someone that they can be friends with. Learn from their mistakes.

Everyone needs their chance to grow.  When you grow up, you truly realize who your friends are. They’re the people that stay behind you when the rest of the world shuts you out. That’s just another perk of growing up. You live, you learn and eventually you move on. Just have to always remember that the friendship you have within yourself is the only friendship you should always work on. Its through that friendship that you learn to trust others again.

 

 

Honesty.

honesty

For most of my adult life I had never been truly honest about the past. It’s the past that always comes back to haunt you and manifests itself into demons you can’t hide. When I came back from Mexico I couldn’t hold it in anymore. My failures of the past were manifesting themselves into failures of my present. From the countless failed friendships, relationships, and even failed attempts of careers, I realized the one thing that was holding my life back was the need to be honest. I have absolutely no problem telling anyone how it is or how I feel, but when it comes to the things of my past, I couldn’t do it. In this experiment I wanted to show myself that the debt in my life is an effort to keep the demons at bay. Suppressing them just enough to keep satisfied until I had another meltdown. Another failure and I would continue my downward spiral of over spending, over indulging and of course beating myself up about it.

The purpose of this blog is to talk about my struggles, my passions, and my failures, which has caused me to seek comfort in spending. In no way am I trying to publicly bash the things that have happened in my life. Life is about being honest with yourself and learning countless lessons, Life isn’t made to be easy. I’ve fallen on hard times, I’ve hit rock bottom and as I’ve always said I have gotten myself back up again. I know what it’s like to lose everything, and I know what it’s like to have everything. These are my struggles, these are my stories, as exaggerated as they may read they truly did happen. I’ve sugar coated so much of my life that people have a hard time believing these things have actually happened.  You just get to the point in your life where you’re so emotionally exhausted. That’s what I am. I’m emotionally and physically exhausted with hiding how I feel about the past that the only way I can truly heal is talking about it. To the people that I have written about I am in no way, shape or form, publically bashing you. If anything I am just truly showing you what it felt like to walk in my shoes. A small glimpse of the lifetime of mistreatment, I felt being associated with the same caliber people.

People will never truly understand you, until they have walked a mile in your shoes. In some way I am showing you word for word how I’ve felt all those years. The years I continued to accept apologies and continued to be mistreated, bad mouthed, and hurt by the same people. For once people will understand why I am the way that I am. Where I no longer have the heart for juvenile bullshit.  I’ve reached that point in my life where I no longer expect apologizes. Honestly I don’t even have the energy anymore to fight. I hope that in reading my stories, people would find the compassion to not make the same mistakes from the past. Grow from the bullshit and learn from it. That’s exactly what I intend to do. This is my attempts of growing with love and finding the happiness I know that I truly deserve. I can’t keep holding on, protecting and rewarding the bad behavior of others. I can’t keep hiding in the shadows waiting for it to be okay to talk about my feelings. This is how I feel, this is how it went, and honestly people should be afraid of what I’m going to do next.

With that stated I will hope that if anything people will truly understand where I am coming from. That my exposed vulnerabilities will finally bring out all the dark and truly bring forth the light.