lonely

9/9/2015 – Day Twenty – Three.

I could spend countless hours being upset for all the wrong reasons. Most of the times I do just that. Become angry for things beyond my control, or angry for things I shouldn’t be angry about. I often forget there are other things bigger in this world. My hate and my anger over power all my light and I turn completely dark. I am the monster that is green with envy for a million different things. At this point, I don’t even know why anymore.

When you are hurting you forget about human kindness. When the paranoia of the world happens, you tend to forget about the kindness of humanity. You become angry with your surroundings, that has caused you to look differently at people. That life is meant to be used and hurt, and you’ve become very good at playing the victim. Lately I’ve played my victim role with pristine condition. I feel like everyone hates me for obvious reasons that I can’t understand. Hates me for every little thing that’s caused me to be paranoid toward everything and everyone. Everything I do is wrong. Everything everyone else does is always right. I can’t sleep when its these thoughts that keep me up at night. I watch people become ghosts to me and because I am too fucked up to listen, I allow them to be. At the same time, I don’t want my negativity to transfer to them. So I keep a close distance away from everyone until I no longer feel I am doing harm to anyone else.

Every so often people make you forget that. A smile from a stranger, a hello from a friend, something that shows you’re alive. Something that makes you feel alive, that people can crash into you and make you feel something. Something, anything. From this numbing feeling inside that takes away all your light. It’s not that I feel dead inside. I just feel sick. That a body snatcher has taken reign of my body and oozing out this sickening feeling. I hate it. It’s weird how simple conversations can change your whole mood. I feel angry for so many things beyond my control. Angry for the fact that I am angry. Upset over the fact that I can’t control how I feel anymore. Is this who I really am? Is this what sadness can do to a person? Make them a shell of their former self. I can’t be honest with people, with out terrifying them with reality. My reality is far more complicated then I show. All I do is go through the motions and cover everything up the best that I can.

I didn’t believe that anything could take away this anger. I was so overwhelmed with this feeling of darkness, I didn’t believe the light could come in. Somehow words snap you out of your feelings and before you know it you’re smiling again. Laughing, thinking, feeling human again. When you are seconds away from a meltdown, someone says the words to snap you out of that feeling. You feel it from your toes to your fingertips. Anything but the feeling you felt before. It’s weird how nice people are to you when you’re seconds away from a meltdown. As if they can sense all your problems and take them away from you. I guess I have been so used to everything going wrong that when things go right, I am afraid of what to do. All it takes is a few words from a stranger to bring me back to life. Sometimes that’s all we need to feel alive. Something to take away all this dark, even if it’s just for a little bit.

I didn’t have a meltdown today. I am slowly starting to feel like myself again.

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9/6/15 – Day Twenty.

I gave myself a break. Where I didn’t think about anything with the exception of what is in front of me. Something simple. Something sweet, anything to occupy my time away from these thoughts. How do you explain that one day you woke up hating everyone and their existence? That words from everyone close to you, make you shudder and shut down. Or that you can’t explain this need to be alone but you need to be. Why can’t words match what you feel in your heart?

People already think I am crazy, what’s more insanity with a little more misunderstanding. I don’t blame them for thinking that way, they’re only thinking what they can’t understand. I feel so misunderstood lately, that no one really understands me.  Not that it matters. I just don’t feel like painting my face like everyone else, when its not how I feel. I can’t force a smile when those are not the feelings I feel inside. Explaining yourself when you’ve run out of words to say. Its easier to talk about the weather, than say exactly whats wrong.

Half of the time I am not even sure whats wrong, and I am not sure I even want to say how I feel. But today I moved back from those feelings and washed those feelings right out of me. After a few days of living in my filth and not wanting to release these feelings, I am ready to start. Clean, brand new. Find new dreams and polish off the old dreams. Everything else just give it time to regroup itself. Through marathons of old shows and starting over with new shows. I watch what I love and what I fear, keep time with itself. Slowly coming in, side by side. I know I can’t hide from the world. I know I can’t pretend this isn’t happening. What I love and what I fear, will eventually walk side by side. Its then that I’ll admit that this pure fear is knowing that being alone is my burden and my strength. Every day I get closer to overshadowing my fears. I feel myself getting stronger. I feel myself getting better.  But everyone thinks I am crazy. That I have always been the crazy one.

It’s just hard to make someone understand, what they’ll never understand at all.

9/2/2015 – Day Nineteen.

I am not here.

My things are here but I am far from here. Can you grow up in a course of a few weeks? Can you change your perception of things in the course of a few days? As I sit and look at everything in my room, I have never felt so detached from things. Its as if all these things were placed without my permission. Without my knowledge. I am seeing everything and wishing everything would disappear. I wonder why did I care so much for these material things, when I don’t need them. I look at these things collecting dust and filling up empty spaces with clutter, and wonder, why?

I want white walls and bare spaces.
I want a simpler way of looking at things.
I want to take everything I have and get rid of it all.

Take everything and give it all away. Nothing in this space feels like me anymore. Take every last piece of materialism and give it to someone else. It’s not welcome here.

I can’t hide forever. I can’t keep pretending that at any moment all these things will disappear. That someone will come and stake a claim on everything. Everyone deserves the world and to leave me with the scraps. I just don’t want anything anymore. Everything must go. As much as it pains me to unpack, I have to resume as everything is normal. That everything is okay. Even when it’s not in place.

The clothes back on the hangers, the socks in the drawers, and the toiletries back in their rightful place. But it still feels like I am gone. That I am going through the motions. I could state at the ceiling, wrap myself in blankets and wish it all away. We all know wishes don’t come true. As much as I close my eyes I have to wake up into this chaos. Separate what I want from what I need and hope with it comes bare spaces and white walls.

Simplify.

9/1/2015 – Day Eighteen.

I didn’t think I would make it.

If I had to be completely honest, I wasn’t sure I wanted too. I counted down the days dreading this trip. Then before I knew it, I was pleading to stay. It doesn’t make much sense to run from one chaos toward another. Running away just adds more to the wanderlust, instead of satisfying this hunger of leaving. It’s watching all the darkness in my life transform into different shades of color, instead of variations of black and grey.

I am not ready to leave. I am not ready to return to familiarity. I am not ready to state how I feel to the faces that believe they know me best. Maybe I’ll never be ready. How often can you hide from the world and remain in this hidden bliss. Where no one knows what is going on, because you keep your feelings hidden so efficiently.  If I stay here any longer, I’ll be hiding forever. If I leave now, I have to admit that I am not okay. Going away doesn’t change your problems, it just hides them with better scenery. I am running out of time. Running out of resources to get me out of this mystified existence. Its good to go home. Going home to regroup and start right back all over again. Back to the people who know me best and want nothing but what is best for me. Everything happens for a reason. Even goodbyes are never really forever. I just feel rushed. If only I could just jump back into that mind frame. Jump into these good intentions wrapped with best wishes. But I can’t.

I stand tall on the rooftops staring down at landscapes. At the countless rooftops of these buildings in my memory. I could draw this scenery with my eyes closes. How the storms have settled and gave way to the clear skies that lie in front of me. The wind in my hair and I don’t want to go home but I know I have to. With my bags packed, everything organized and placed in its right place. But home doesn’t feel much like home when you’re gone. Home is just where my things are but its not where my heart lies. Its not where the wind blows straight through me, into my bones cutting me to the core. I can paint my smile, watch the planes come and go, but they don’t lead me home. I don’t know where home is and sitting in chairs people have sat before me, I am not getting close to it.

 

8/29/2015 – Day Fifteen.

I have had a problem with food for as long as I can remember. Longer than I would like to admit. These days I wonder if those fears are my karma for my current situations. I haven’t been the kindest to myself and in this new era of body image, owning who you are, it’s easier said than done. I’ll be completely honest, its hard to transform 28 years thinking in a matter of a short months or years. For every 10 good days, there are 20 not so good days. For everything and in-between, food has been my scapegoat for every way of thinking. Food has a way of bringing the good with the bad. Triggering memories and forgotten expectations. You think about how much you didn’t care in your younger years, and now as an adult this need to be socially conscious about everything you put in front of you. Now a days, I fear food more than I enjoy it. I hold it at an arms length against me. Separating myself from my past and my expectations of my future, not realizing the repercussions of my present. It makes me think about everything I’ve done to distance myself from food, when all I’ve ever wanted to do was enjoy it.

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Recovery is a pain in the ass. Its hard to tell someone that hasn’t been through what you have, how you feel. I have felt really alone in my recovery. Its easy to put up a positive front, to post a photo of myself eating or enjoying food but reality settles in. I will always see myself as 70 lbs over weight. I will always think twice about what I eat. I will always feel guilty about over eating and feel this need to punish myself. It’s hard to tell someone that what I see in the mirror paralyzes my way of thinking. It has been a long time since I have truly enjoyed a meal. A good fucking meal. Something someone put heart and soul into. I am not going to be an asshole, I’ve had great meals but so many of these meals build up on my fears.  Its genuinely hard to enjoy them without feeling squeamish or guilt. Most of the time, I feel guilty about the things I eat. It’s something I have to live with that makes me so indescieve about where or what to eat. How do you tell someone I can’t eat what I love out of fear of the outcome? You can’t. Being in another country helps. I don’t feel guarded. I don’t feel the pressure to be anything. While the fear still plagues me, it doesn’t hurt as much as it does at home. Its weird to be in places with different customs then your own. To adapt yourself into things you have stopped doing at home. Sometimes I forget to eat in the rush of getting to and from places. Often times I overindulge in the things I love but mostly I don’t. Then I feel guilty of eating and I psych myself out. I don’t know. Being far from home I don’t feel as self conscious as I am used too.

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It’s easy to say I am on vacation, I can do what I want. To get in this gluttonous stage and have no self control, but I can’t do that. It’s lonely to eat alone but it’s lonely to have to come to realization that you can’t eat the way you are used too. We settled into a restaurant inside the town square. After looking over at the menu, we decided to take our chances on a little restaurant with it’s rustic pirate vibes. I wasn’t expecting much. Just enough to fill my belly and provide the energy I needed for the rest of the day. I get really anxious when I eat. A part of me still believes I am 70 lbs overweight and another part of me still believes I will make myself sick after eating. For the longest time my meals where based on what was easier to come out at will or what would get me full the fastest. If I ate exactly how I wanted to eat, I would open up the wounds that have been trying to heal. If I don’t eat, its another series of triggers, I can’t contain. I usually order to avoid suspicion and times I don’t like what I order. When you are comfortable you forget the silly instances that make up your anxieties. Sitting on the bench in the resturant, I didn’t look for an easy way out. I wanted to try everything. I wanted to eat everything and for once I didn’t want to feel guilty about what I ate. It felt like we were eating for hours when really it had been minutes, since we had ordered. Mere minutes as the plates started arriving. Each plate sizzling, oozing, and exhuming delicious flavors and tastes. It didn’t end at the first or second plate. It didn’t stop with the drinks, the momentum continued, as we talked about family stories, family traditions, and inner jokes between us all. As each plate reached our table, another plate would disappear.

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It didn’t hurt. This layer of anxiousness shed off my skin and I felt something I hadn’t felt in all the meals, I have consumed over the past years. I felt love. I felt hunger to try everything. Even if I felt guilty, it wasn’t going to hurt me. I had been feeling self-conscious about my outcomes that I never focused on my journey. How alone I felt in my battles and lonely I felt in my war. No matter how many times I heard positivity, I was focused on the negative outcome. Focusing on the mirror that was haunted with two faces. As the plates started dwindling down, as my belly felt full but content, I looked around at the faces I saw before me. This is my journey, my battle but I don’t feel alone. This is love I feel in front of me and after every course, I am going to be okay. Maybe I’ll never get better but at least today, the journey doesn’t seem as bad anymore.

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8/17/2015 – Day Nine.

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Hello darkness, my old friend.

Darkness follows me like an old friend. Which is why I have no problem writing about it. Writing about the night skies and their equally dark rooms. When you spend a lot of time in dark rooms, you start having a deeper appreciation of low light and shadows. It’s a calming feeling in being alone with your thoughts. It’s when you open your heart to the shadows, and remind yourself of how much you have left of your journey. At this point I am not sure if my journey is beginning or ending. Or maybe I am still in the middle of this fork in the road, wondering which way to turn.

Its sitting in the dark that I wonder about many things. I replay thousands of conversations in my head. I go back and look at thousands of photographs and I can’t help but wonder. There are times I think I am being vocal about how I am feeling and reality is I am just hiding from the world. I seek comfort in this darkness that knows all my secrets. That hides my tears, sadness, and every inch of pain I am feeling. I am doing everything wrong and I know what I am doing. But hiding in this darkness keeps me from seeing everything that happens in the light. Maybe I am better off that way. Better off hiding from the world and the people that surround it. I am not doing anyone any favors and at this point I feel like the worst person in the world. When you think all your doing is being a hero and reality is you’ve always been the villain in disguise.

Lately I just want to cry about everything and hide from everyone. Hide in the shadows no matter how many times people ask me to play. It takes a big city full of millions of people to make your heart beat faster. To make yourself feel even more alone. You rely on the dark skies to bring you home. When it rains it pours, it brings out the clean slate you desperately scrub clean. I don’t have problem being alone but I hate feeling alone. Maybe it’s the sadness that makes you lonely. That has you looking out windows and praying for rain. Praying for something to take away all this pain. Surrounded by people you can’t help but wish they could bump right next to you and help you feel something, anything. Instead you avoid their glances and calculate your moves away from them. Maybe I am wrong. Maybe being alone is an overdramatic cry for help and settling is what I should be doing. Maybe I have gone through life doing things wrong and one day I’ll figure out how to fix this mess. Who knows. I just can’t help that when the sunsets enough, I am left in the dark. Others have found out how to turn the lights on but I am still adjusting to the lack of sun.

 

8/13/2015 – Day Seven.

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My body is in a state of shock. I have bones aching and muscles sore. I am exhausted. The lack of sleep from the nights before, make waking up harder than normal. I woke up to sunny skies escaping my window but my body still ached for the cold of the night and the darkness. Sleep makes you forget about things in your waking day reality. You become so transfixed in your dream state you forget that you have to go back to reality. I could stay lost in my dreams forever. Lost in this idea of make believe instead of waking up to this sickening pain of reality. I hate this feeling.

This exhausted feeling could only bring me enough energy to get dressed and eat somewhat. Even getting dressed was a hassle. You reach this point where putting on your normal every day clothes seem far fetched, I wanted to put just the most comfortable manageable clothes. My head was pounding due to the altitude and I felt dizzy and distraught. That feeling you get when you don’t feel like talking and you find yourself ridiculously quiet? Thats how I felt. I am not usually a quiet person but I had this need to not say anything. When I have nothing to say, why say anything. Why pretend I have something to say, when I have nothing at all. All I wanted to do was sleep. From my fingertips to my toes, everything shakes. I could live in this bed forever, hiding under the covers and looking out toward the sun that illuminates from under the drapes. I could. I would if I could.

I should be doing a million things. Start unpacking, start a million different ideas and complete them with a follow through. The more I thought about these things the more the pain continued to hurt. The tighter I held on to the blankets and kept falling back asleep. I shouldn’t think about the things that I do. I should be in a better mood in a beautiful place with amazing people. No matter what I did, I couldn’t shake this mood. This feeling of hurting physically that was hurting emotionally. I wrapped myself in that blanket, covered in comfort, warmth and this feeling of pure security. Before I knew it the sunny skies morphed into an overcast afternoon. Waking up to the cold air and skies cascading in colors from white to slate to dark grey. I could have laid in that emotional bliss forever. This weather that matches my aches and pains and cuts into my mood. I knew I would have to go back into reality. I knew I would have to start talking again. I knew eventually I’d have to admit to myself exactly how I was feeling.

In this moment I felt the cold inch closer to me. Greeting me like an old friend. It was then I moved the blanket closer and fell back asleep.

 

 

8/12/2015 – Day Six.

I didn’t tell anyone I was traveling. I didn’t make some epic post on social media. I didn’t even give a hint that I was going. I wasn’t up to all of it to be completely honest. If I had to be really honest, I really just wanted to disappear. I didn’t want to die, even if at times I felt that way. I just didn’t feel the need to tell anyone anything. It probably sounds stupid and juvenile but I’ve always been so public about different aspects of myself. Just this once, I didn’t want to say anything.

I haven’t been sleeping well for the past couple of weeks. This wave of paranoia hit me like something out of a nightmare. I’ve travelled thousands of times. Thousands of times alone or with friends. This time felt different, that I was hiding from something I couldn’t contain anymore. I thought I was going to lose it in the check-in line. I thought I was going to lose it in security. I thought I was going to cancel this trip right in the airport. If I had it in me, I would change my ticket and fly to a million different places. Places where no one would find me. I am clouded with this idea that we have to tell people where we are and what we are doing, but I just want to get lost and leave. Disappear completely. Disappear in the sights and sounds of places where only few people would find me. As of this point, I can’t do it anymore. I can’t pretend that this is just something that happens to people. At this point in my life, I don’t know if I can survive these feelings. Its haunting my life to the point that I can’t sleep anymore. I am hurting in places, I don’t want to hurt anymore. I am holding on by a very thin thread and at any given moment I will break.

Airports are always interesting places. I have spent a good amount of time at airports. Coming and going, take off and landings. I always felt it was the most loneliest place you could be. You’re never sure if someone’s journey is just beginning or ending. I become fascinated by strangers, their stories and their lives. I could sit and people watch for hours. I could sit down in the countless chairs by the gates and watch people. People on their phones, gossiping with people, people reading books, everything. You almost want to open your heart to these people and invite them in. See who they are and share a piece of yourself. In many ways thats what drives my madness. This need to share a piece of myself and open my heart to people. I’ve been fearful of people hurting me again, that I didn’t realize I was only hurting myself. I go on all these trips to find myself to scare myself. To prove to myself how much I can do on my own. When it’s the comfort of people I really seek. A smile from a stranger, a “good morning” from a neighbor, a “thank you” from a person sitting next to you.

We are all connected by strings and when we least expect it to we cut our strings to be free from everyone. We don’t realize how desperately we need these strings. How we’d stop the world to restring ourselves to all these people. I want to learn to live without these strings and realize I need these strings as much as I need to be free. I want to disappear and I want strings to pull me back to myself. I don’t know. I found myself in my seat on the plane and as we were descending into my final destination, I realized how much I missed the adventure of life. Everything I’ve done in my life had been completely out of the norm of everyone else’s life. I had been feeling guilty of steering off the path, that I was bringing myself down. I missed adventure, I missed different places, I missed what I loved about life. A lot has changed since my last trip, and I knew that. I watched as the plane slowly circled the city and realized I missed the comfort of home and the comfort of people. I needed to be alone with my darkness to realize how much I don’t need a lot of things. Looking down at the city with it’s buildings and cars and people, I felt so insignificant. Harboring all this pain has made me feel like a stranger to many people, but I felt like a stranger to myself. Before I could enjoy the view, I couldn’t help but start to cry.

I don’t know who I am anymore, and I am not sure I ever will.

Walk in Silence.

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Dark skies and long goodbyes. Memories of past times and I wonder how much of this is real and how much I am make believing. Watching the roads turn then curve and lead me home. The roads they turn but don’t always lead back to you. They don’t always lead back home or places that seem like it. The dark skies with their thousands of stars, illuminate you when you’re asleep then leave when you wake.

It’s all in my head. It’s all in my head, I say.

I’ve pictured you in color but I am still standing in black and white. In the silence of broken melodies and vacancy of closed spaces. Opening windows to the outside and breathing in every last bit of this haunting air that surrounds me. Anything that brings back a sense that this is home. That this is where I am suppose to be. I could leave this. Leave all of this behind. Look back to the cities from which I have lived and see the lights of the homes I’ve lost. Looking through the tears in blurred visions of the past. This wasn’t how it was suppose to be. This wasn’t how I am suppose to live.

I can’t look back. You’re not suppose to look back. Back to the people, the places, and things that bring forth all this sadness. I want to leave this place. Leave this feeling of shame and regret, into sunlight paths with big bright yellow suns. 3am knows all my secrets and hides all my pain. It shakes the shivers in my spine and makes me feel alone. I am not okay, I am not getting better. Still I walk away in silence and into the dark paths lit by the stars.

This isn’t who I am. This isn’t who I am suppose to be. Still, I walk away in silence and in my silence I will stay.

8.10.2015

 

8/9/2015 – Day Three.

Emotions have a way of turning you upside down and inside out. For the past few days, I’ve felt what emotions can do to you physically and emotionally. Personally, I can’t take it anymore. This push/pull feeling of being okay and then later being in pain. I started realizing that my days seemed numbered. That I was struggling to feel anything aside from this numbing pain of being hurt. Which is crazy, I shouldn’t be feeling this pain. I had nothing to provoke this pain and yet this heartbreaking feeling manages to wash over me.

There’s always this feeling of emptiness that harbors inside. That no matter how much I could possible eat or how much I drink, I just can’t get that satisfying feeling of being full. Of course emptiness is a feeling that can transcend different emotions, but hunger was a pain I couldn’t get rid of. I always find myself feeling hungry when I am upset. After the way I was feeling the day before, hunger felt like the only emotion I could control. Somewhere between the dismantling of my closet and the rearrangement, I decided I should treat myself to something to eat. Lately the problem with eating is my limited options and new found eating habits to consider. Usually when I am upset I gravitate toward the greasiest, saltiest, gluttonous food, but after a illness scare, I have been fairly strict with my eating habits. To say that it doesn’t frustrate me, would be lying. It does frustrate me, severely. Just the thought that I can’t be happy with what I eat, even knowing that my past habits are not healthy for me. I am so used to eating the way that I want and to take me away from that is completely foreign to me. However, there are cheat days and when I am not feeling 100%, I give into my old eating ways. I can’t be strict all the time, ya know?

I have eaten millions of meals with people. Meals with fascinating, amazing people. All of my friends, family, friends of friends, etc. Interesting characters all unique in their own individual way. I have how ever never eaten a meal alone. I have eaten at home dozens of times, eaten in my car more times than I can count. But to sit in a restaurant by myself, I’ve never done. It’s that paranoia that people are watching me, judging me. Which is why eating alone is always close to impossible. It’s not that I can’t do it, it’s that feeling of really feeling alone. I could order a meal, pick it up, and eat it at home, I mean I could. But even being at home, I don’t feel alone. I just wanted a moment to collect my thoughts, write them down, and be completely and utterly alone. Maybe I could make sense of how I was feeling and put it down on paper. I didn’t want to go to a place that was completely crowded, I also didn’t want to go to a place that was completely empty, so the logical choice was Denny’s. Mainly that it has a load of options and even on the worst possible days, even they can’t mess up my food.

Denny’s has been the center point to many instances in my life. It sometimes gets to the point that I crave Denny’s. There isn’t a memory that doesn’t incorporate Denny’s in it. I know a good fair share of people that don’t care for Denny’s, I personally seek happiness in Denny’s. It’s comfort food. I know what to order and I know it’s always going to be good (I do not work for Denny’s, so this is pretty much coming from the goodness of my heart). I honestly hadn’t been to a Denny’s in over a year or maybe even more. There’s something about going somewhere that you seek comfort in that calms you. Today of all days, I just wanted to pack my bag full of notebooks, drive, and eat some Denny’s. Normally I would call any one of my family members or friends, but today I just didn’t feel like entertaining. I didn’t feel like telling stories, telling jokes, over exaggerating situations, I just wanted to be alone. By myself with my thoughts, feelings, and sadness, and eat food that I know is bad for me.

It’s no secret that I have been avoiding social media. After deleting all my social platforms off my phone, I have been out of touch with the world. I just don’t care anymore, I truly don’t. After having a meltdown on twitter about a month ago, I just didn’t feel up to putting my emotions on social media. I also realized what a distraction social media was, to the point of obsession. I was checking countless social media outlets several times a day that it was interfering with my life. I shouldn’t care what people say but sometimes people say the tiniest thing and it makes you paranoid about your own life. Makes you feel guilty about what you say or do. My only way to combat my fears was to take away what was causing my paranoia and anxiety. After taking that away, I started to see life differently. It always takes me a while to get myself together to do things by myself and today was no different. I realized how much of a crutch I used social media for, just something to occupy my time and calm my nerves. Something to fidget with before I got up the nerve to start. I sat in my car for a few minutes, maybe I could still invite someone to go with me. I still had time to change my mind. Maybe all I really needed was to just sit and talk to someone. The minutes seemed to pass and before I knew it I was out of the car and headed toward the entrance.

You begin to realize how much more aware you are of your surroundings, when you don’t have your phone glued to your hands. More aware of people, sounds, and conversations. More aware of your own personal being, thoughts, and even your own shadows. You observe more, you wait to see if people see you, the way you are seeing them. I am used to shielding myself with technology that I often forget whats in front of me. Sometimes there are things that you don’t see within the camera lens. Things you forget that are staring back at you in the background. I wish I could photograph and record everything, but it doesn’t give you that same feeling. It doesn’t give you the music you hear, the chill in your spine, and that spring in your step. I miss hearing life in between “Like” and “Reblog”. I found myself hiding behind my own insecurities. I didn’t realize how much I missed the sounds of life. Even Denny’s bred a life form of silverware chattering, people bickering, plates slamming, hustling. Everyone I could see sitting in booths and chairs may have been surrounded by people, even if I was alone I didn’t feel alone. I didn’t feel my heart race with fear or anxiety. I didn’t feel people judging me and pointing fingers at my flaws. For the first time in days I felt okay. I felt safe. It’s a feeling I wouldn’t have felt had I been with someone else. It was something I had to learn being on my own in a chain restaurant in the middle of nowhere.

When your heart is hurting you don’t feel like anyone sees you. You could be right in front of someone but you’ll feel they see right through you. Maybe no one really sees you for who you are but today I saw myself. Scared, vulnerable, alone and for the first time in a long time I was okay with that.