personal

Summer.

Attachment-1

I hate Summer.

I hate it with every fiber of my being. For all the reasons everyone loves summer, it’s all the reasons I despise it. I hate the heat. I hate the sun, I hate it’s warmth that embraces me in it’s brightest hug. I hate the over exposure of the sun that lasts on my skin. Turning every inch of my skin different colors that burn to the touch.

I hate it.

This over exposure of skin that showcases all my imperfections. The sun doesn’t allow me to cover up my insecurities and flaws. Instead my skin is out for everyone to see and judge. I can’t stand that feeling. This feeling that with every bright ray of sunlight, I have to hide an inch of myself. I want to cover every inch of myself in layers, hide every inch of my insecurities, but I can’t. Instead I hide behind closed doors until the heat of the afternoon rays, turn into moonlit skies and breezy nights.

I want to hide every inch of myself until I am ready to appear. Hide from the masses until I am perfectly okay with myself. I hate that you can’t hide from warmth. You can’t hide from the sun that follows you like a shadow every step you take. Every freckle burns on my skin from these memories of the past I just want to forget. Closing the books on summer looks and yearn for the layers and falling leaves of fall. Let me have one more day of Spring. One more day of overcast skies and foggy mornings. One more day of layers that hide my skin from the sun. One more day to hide these scars from the world, another day of long sleeves that keep all my wounds secret.

I am the worst person to myself when the sun comes out. All I want to do is disappear until the sun goes down. Do we ever really forgive ourselves for the things we say as the sun illuminates our face? We don’t. I can’t help but become the monster everyone says I am. Its the monsters in ourselves that we are often afraid of. What’s one more?

Summer comes. Summer goes. I can’t wait for the heat to leave this town and leave this lingering feeling it leaves upon my skin. In the shade, behind a veil of layers I will stay. Watching the leaves dry and fall from the trees until there is nothing left to shed.

6/7/2006

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Keep on your mean side.

The older I become, the more I realize I don’t owe anyone any explanation. Its not that I want to be secretive, its that I choose to keep a part of myself private. It’s my own personal choice to pick and choose what I want people to know. If I want to share a piece of myself, its on my own terms and good graces. I shouldn’t have to explain myself and my actions. I shouldn’t have to apologize for things that are beyond my control. I shouldn’t have to pretend to be okay with things that I was never okay with to begin with. If we are all openly honest with ourselves, why do we become so secretive in the first place? I have spent a lifetime of making excuses and making apologizes, that now everything feels empty to me.

This is in no way shape or form to get on anyone’s bad side. I am not doing this on purpose or to make anyone upset. If I have to be completely honest, I don’t owe anyone any explanation.  I really don’t. If I don’t want to share my life, I have my own reasons. I know what I want to share with people and why. I don’t have any obligation to open myself up to people, if I don’t want to. I don’t mean to be rude, I don’t mean to be difficult, its just how I am. Its my own personal preference to pick and choose what I want to tell people. How I want to express myself. Its not that I am secretive, in all honesty its no one’s business but my own. What I do share does not give people an open invite to dictate what I do or judge who I am. I run my life, you do not. You are not entitled to know about my life and my whereabouts without my permission. You can make all the assumptions all you fit pleasing, but reality is you never knew me at all. We live in a world where our every whereabout is spilled out in public social forms for all to see. For everyone to comment and generate their own opinions as they see fit. It’s nobodies business but my own, why I do the things I do. It’s not in my nature to answer to anyone, or say what I am doing. I don’t have to. This is my life and I live it as I damn well please.

If I want to go on adventures every weekend, I will. If I want to move to another state without telling a single soul, I will. If I want to plan a vacation a month, I will. The only person I have to answer to is myself.

If it makes you feel better, I could make up a thousand excuses. Tell you everything you want to hear. Make everything up just to make you feel better. Even the people who know me best are people that are surprised to find something new about myself. I am not guarding myself from hurt. I am not keeping secrets from anyone. I just want to keep a piece of myself for myself without the attention of others. I am so tired of having to discuss my whereabouts to anyone. I am so tired of having to discuss why I do the things I do. My life is not some public spectacle to generate the most “likes” on the internet. I could care less about your public opinions of me and my welfare. How much money I spend, how much money I make, why I do the things I do, is my business and my business alone. Yes it is nice to do these things. Yes, I am very lucky. It’s nobodies business but my own.

If I don’t feel like sharing with the class, I won’t. If I don’t feel like telling anyone how I feel, I won’t.

None of this gives anyone a reason to think they know me best. You don’t know me, even if you think I do. If I don’t choose to share things with people doesn’t mean I haven’t been through things. Doesn’t mean that I haven’t had my own struggles and my own personal breakdowns. If I don’t share my problems on the internet doesn’t mean they don’t exist. I just choose to deal with them on my own, the best way I can. When I am ready to tell the world how I feel, I will. When I am ready to be open, I will. Until that moment, I will keep to myself and keep our of your way.

If it keeps on your mean side so be it. I am only allowed to make myself happy, not you.

 

 

 

Do I stay or Do I go?

I am a creature of habit. I have my same routines and abide by them as the days go. It’s human nature to seek comfort in others, and in the surroundings of people. Some days I just keep to myself. Alone in my surroundings and alone in my thoughts. I find myself getting older and seeking comfort in doing things on my own and slowly retreating into my home to do nothing. People have a funny way of frightening me, so I refrain from human contact until I see fit for me.

We are all getting older. My peers, my family and my friends, we’re all growing up and growing into our own lives. I used to seek comfort in legions of friends, now I can’t pick up the phone to call them. It’s not that I don’t care, its that we are all on our own different paths. Different paths for different walks of life. When you’re younger you believe that your friends will be there forever. That every milestone your friendships will withstand the testaments of time. Then you see as the same people you confided in, stop talking to you for reasons beyond your control. In a way, you’re not growing up if you’re not losing some aspects of your friendships. As much as it hurts, you can’t stop life from happening. You can’t stop this evolution from occurring in your day to day life.

I find myself still holding down the anchor of my hometown. Staying to wait for people that will never return. Watching people come and go as they fit please. People who said they’d never change to become polar opposites of themselves. Or maybe that’s who they have always been. Who knows. I just don’t have the time to wait around expecting things to happen, that were never going to happen to begin with. Now I am left at this crossroads of who I am and who I am suppose to be. Do I stay and wait the testaments of time? Or do I go and start my life a new?

The more I wander the more I want to pack every last bit of myself into boxes. Leave this town and the last of the memories that I carry with me. Leave and never tell a single soul about my whereabouts. I am tired of sitting around and watching everyone else’s life pass me by. I am tired of everyone taking advantage of me and expecting me to follow their lead. This isn’t who I was suppose to be. This isn’t where I am suppose to be. I am ready for everything to change and to be some place else. All of my excuses have expired. All of my resources have dried out. The only thing I know is that when I leave, no one will follow. Maybe it’s for the best but leaving is easier than staying in one place where nothing happens.

Do I stay or do I go? I have no reason to stay, maybe it’s best that I go.

 

The Big Bad Wolf.

I’ll huff.
I’ll puff.
I’ll blow your house down.

Everything you hold dear. Everything you care so much for. Blow your house of cards into a stack of nothing. Because I am the crazy one. I am the one who can’t control emotions. Like clockwork;  I huff, puff, and blow your house down.

I am a villain in a valley of victims. The big bad wolf everyone is afraid of. Don’t tell me how you feel, because you’re afraid of how I’ll react. Keep things from me, because it will spare my feelings. Tell me lies because it’s sweeter than the truth. Make believe and fantasy is all you should ever give me. Everything is my fault and everything I do is just a reaction to your proof.

I’ll huff.
I’ll puff.
I’ll blow your house down.

Never believe the one that speaks louder than a whisper. Don’t believe the person with a scarlet letter across their chest. They can’t be trusted. They’re the crazy ones. Don’t believe the tears of a woman because even a woman lies. We all become what everyone hates. The deepest darkest nightmares in truest forms. All we are is vessels to point the blame upon. One finger you gracefully point at me, just know there are three pointing back at you. Keep pointing your fingers down at me, from the pedestal from which you stand upon. It’s foundation made of lies and all the villainous corpses you’ve accounted for.

Oh my, how high people sit on their throne of lies in order to keep up with the masses. It’s easy to pit everyone against each other when you wear the crown. Making wars between the sinners and keeping heroes of the saints. Picking your victorious battles while still losing the wars. I am far to smart to believe the cries of a boy who calls wolf. To believe the silent whimpers of the untouchable sheep. You’re a big bad wolf in sheep’s clothing. You’re the boy who always cries wolf. The louder you squeal the more people will listen. We’re all suckers for tragedy. We all love the misfortunes of others. Seldom triumph over anyone’s victory. I know far too much to ever let you win. You can spread your lies to the masses. Tell them every vulnerability I account for. But you will never win. I am unbreakable. I am safe and I am sound, and I will not be defeated.

Come little sheep. Come little piggies. Build before me your house of cards. Build it high, build it low, build it strong, and build it sturdy. I am not the one you should be afraid of. Be careful for the wolf hidden in the sheep’s clothing. Stay clear of silent voices that speak sweet lies through direct honesty. Be careful of the king who lead battles for war to only massacre the innocent.

I may have always been the villain, but the only villain I see here is you.

8/21/2008

 

 

Drive.

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I am driving blindly down streets I should remember. Streets I see clearer then the veins that scream transparency on the back of my hand. I could be anywhere, but here I stay. Stuck trying to escape this notion of reality and make believe.

Where am I going?
Anywhere, but here.

I race toward the sun in hopes to catch it. Every moment, every second. Every lasting ray of light before the darkness hits, and I am left with nothing. I see everything clearly yet watch everything disappear. This urging in my heart to race toward this everlasting light and pray for the rays to last me forever. Just a few more minutes. Something to take way the feeling of hopelessness and fill me with light. Just a little bit longer. I don’t know where I am going. I don’t know what I’m doing. Its this never ending struggle to pretend it’s okay. That being stuck in one place is fine with me. That being patient is always such a virtue. This road seems never ending. No matter how many times I try to change course, I can’t stop pretending this is where I need to be. Take the long way home, take the shortest route, go these places that are the roads most travelled. Stay safe, drive slow, and the rest will follow.

I grow tired of staying in one place. My mind is going a mile a minute and I’ve grown tired of these familiar streets and haunting surroundings. There is nothing for me here. There is nothing I need from these 4 walls that haunt me while I sleep. Its a race against time. Its a race against nothing. It’s catching feelings in moments that never truly exist. But still I steer myself toward the horizon in the right direction. This light will save me. This light will guide me home. I take blindly all the time and accounts of the nothing that exists. Take everything and push your way through. I am driving myself crazy. I am driving myself mad but the light will carry me home. Just a little while longer before the light goes. Just a little while longer before we disappear.

Its the misty lights that seem so pretty through theses skies. I know what I need to do, I just need to stop the fear from hurting. Race toward the light and watch the uncertainty disappear with each mile I retrace. This will all disappear, all go away. In one instant I’ll be home and pay no mind to my doubts and worries. Not much further I see my exit guiding me home. I don’t know where I am going but I know where this leads. Even if home is just a distant memory to me.

I think it’s time for us to have a toast..

2015, has come and gone.

We sit back and reflect on the year and look at how far we have come.

Have we come far enough?
Have we let go of ourselves?
Have we let go of our past and made our way into the future?

With each passing year, I hope for something better. I watch myself go into the new year with high hopes for the year. This year will be the year something changes. This year will be the year that everything happens. This year will be the year that I stop beating myself up about everything. This year I will finally be free to live my life. As the months go on, I find myself still doing the same thing. I watch myself hiding how I feel, to spare the feelings of others. I find myself still stuck in the same perdicament as always.

When does this change happen?
When will things happen for me?

The truth is I am afraid. Terrified, petrified of doing things alone. I am afraid of leaving the people I care about alone. I am terrified of failure, that it clouds my thoughts every day. Worst of all, I am afraid of letting everyone down. Letting people down would be my unhappiness, and I couldn’t bare to deal with the pain. I find myself wishing for things to change, and when they do I am frightened of the outcome. Every year I am not ready, every year I cloud my head with ideas of not being good enough. Not being what everyone wants and beating myself up over every little thing. Demons are funny little creatures that eat away at your positivity. No matter how many times people say to think differently, they eat away at your insides, and burrow deep into your soul. I have had my fair share of demons. Demons far too large to ever escape. As the seasons change, the demons come at you head on. 2015, was no exception.

2015 wasn’t a learning experience, it was a understanding period. Understanding that nobody is perfect, not my family and not my friends. The truth is nobody is perfect. I want to believe that. I want to believe that we are all flawed and fucked up, just trying to get by. When you’re hurting, you want to fix everyone else. You want to put your two cents in everyone’s life. Tell everyone everything they’re doing wrong, but  forget all the good they are doing right. Its in this fixing that you don’t feel alone. You feel as though you are helping someone, instead of facing your own issues. You become bitter about people that you start to despise them, and through that you begin to burn bridges. It’s not that you mean to do it, its that you’re upset that they can’t be perfect for you. They can’t be who you want them to be or who you know they could be. What I didn’t realize was focusing on other people’s problems wasn’t allowing me to focus on my own. I watched people come and go from my life but never noticed how angry I was. How hurtful of a person I could be. I didn’t realize that pain from my past was causing me to focus all the pain on someone else, other than myself. I spent years focusing and fixing other people, that I never bothered to try and fix myself.

As Spring was ending, I watched myself dig into a deep dark abyss. I watched a huge light switch inside of me turn off, and turn against everybody. I didn’t believe in friendship. I didn’t believe in family. I felt my insides turning themselves inside out, and watched how the days turned to nights, and how much I wanted to claw off my skin to show how I really felt. Thinking positively didn’t help. Changing my attitude just made it worse. I could hear happiness, I could hear love, but I wasn’t feeling it. I didn’t want to talk to anyone because I knew it was my negativity that was pushing people away. It was my darkness that was turning people against me, and for once in my life, I didn’t care. I wanted to lose everything and everyone, before I had to let them go. Before they saw me for who I really was: a terrible, miserable, hateful person, that truly hated herself. The demons from the dark carried over to the daylight and I watched them turn me into someone I hated. Someone I loathed.

When you’ve reached the end, that’s when your beginning starts. I wanted to be alone and find a way to deal with my emotions. I realized the more alone I was, I started realizing who I really was. I wasn’t happy with the person I was, I wasn’t doing everything I wanted to do, and I wasn’t dealing with all my emotions as I should have done years ago. While the world was preaching to me about a positive mental attitude, I couldn’t produce it. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, it wasn’t that I didn’t try, it was that I couldn’t see past the smoke I was making myself. I wanted to disappear, but found myself just sinking deeper into my depression. I had been forcing myself to be happy, when I was miserable inside. My fear of being alone became reality; I had let down so many people I didn’t know what to do. The weird thing happens when you disappear. The people you didn’t expect to help you, always help you out in the end. The people that are always there for you, give you space to heal and grow. It took me a long time to understand that, but I finally realized happiness cannot be forced. You have to feel happiness to believe its there. No matter how much you hide from sadness, you need sadness in order to appreciate joy. You need to be able to feel every inch of that hurt and that pain, to truly see how beautiful life really can be. I can’t hide from the pain as much as I would like to. I can’t pretend that pain doesn’t exist because it’s everywhere. I just have to understand that through all that pain, there is beauty. Through the beauty you find a tiny ounce of happiness. Maybe you won’t see it right away, but the day you are ready to embrace how you feel, you’ll get a tiny glimpse of it. It took me years to realize that by embracing my pain, I would find happiness inside of myself. That by accepting everyone for who they are, I could understand the flaws and imperfections of not just everyone by myself as well. People are always going to disappoint us, but sometimes they surprise us in the most unexpected ways. Sometimes the people you love the most will hurt you, and sometimes the people you kept at a distance will be there for you in ways that other people can’t. But 2015, wasn’t about changing, it was about understanding ourselves and the people we care about the most.

And I think it’s time for us to have a toast..

12/31/2015

What’s in a name?

I hate my name.

I hate it with every fiber in my being. The mere sight of it, the six letters in their exact placement, hate it. I know its the person that makes the name. The person that brings life to everything they associate with it. I just never felt that way with my name. It’s a part of my identity that I wish could be taken away. Parts of my life that I wish I could erase from people’s memory. I am not that person anymore. I am not that name. Still the legions of people who knew me before, thats all they can say.

My name makes me feel like a second choice. That my name had never been chosen for me, which in reality it hadn’t. Sometimes I wish I didn’t know the backstory of how names are given. If I could go back I would change everything. Change my name and the stories that go with it. Maybe I would be less afraid. Maybe I would be less timid. Instead I sit and watch my hands shake, and shoulders cringe when people call me by my name. I hate the way people say my name. I hate that people think they know me. I hate that no matter how many times a person can change, their name seems to follow them. That’s not me, thats not even close to who I am. Still this name follows and I can’t help but try my best to escape it.

The more I make excuses, the more I lose a part of myself. A name doesn’t make a person, but I don’t feel like myself anymore. Names make you lose a sense of your identity. Names make you into someone that people expect you to be. I just can’t be that person anymore. Every new person is a chance to start fresh and new with a new name. A chance to be someone bigger than my past expressions. My past follows in the form of introductions, between people who think they know me best. I cringe, then smile, and hold out my hand and pretend I don’t hate the sounds. But I hate the sounds. I hate that, I hate my name. This name isn’t who I am anymore. It never was and it never will be.

That’s not my name, even if you say it and I answer. It’s not my name to me.

3/15/2015

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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8/28/2015 – Day Fourteen.

The past few weeks I’ve been wanting to do things differently. Change how I do things, change how I feel inside. I’ve forgotten what it feels like to put on a new shirt and feel good. Do my hair, get dressed and go about my day. Look out of windows and not wish to be somewhere else. Being in a different place cures your feeling of wanderlust. Today looking out the window, I don’t miss people, places, or things. To be alone with your thoughts is already a lonely place. Today I didn’t feel as alone as I felt before. Today, I got dressed, put on a new shirt, and felt differently. Normal things that people do everyday, that felt hard for me to do these past few months.  Today, felt different then when I first arrived here. Today, felt like a new day, a starting over point. As the switch turned off to change my emotions, I watched as it turned back on to start mine over.

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I have had such a love/hate relationship with my body but today I didn’t pay attention to those thoughts. I put on a new shirt and shut down those insecurities. Insecurities that manage to stay with me in the day that would last throughout the dark. I want to be honest with people as they feel inclined to be toward me. I want to speak louder than a mumble when I talk. I want to wear a new shirt and not feel guilt about how I feel or look. Accept changes as they come forth toward me. Cut through everyones bullshit, even if it’s just my own. I watch people from the street and notice they don’t care as much as I do. If I could read their minds and see how they tick. If they can scream on the streets, so can I. If they can be so forward with their emotions, so can I. I often wonder how did I become self conscious about my way of being. About my way of life, about where I’ve come from, about everything. Most days I feel like I am gearing up for war and other days I just don’t feel like fighting. I think about the past couple of days, this need to disappear completely. I wondered when was the right or wrong time. I thought about life and death and everything that comes after. I sat and cried and then realized that things can’t hurt anymore, but why do things continue to haunt me. It’s easy to think that in an instant all these feelings could go away. But people don’t realize it’s a process. It will take me longer to get there. It will take years to heal but what does anyone really care. We want shortcuts into feelings and shortcuts into getting rich, but that’s just me.

Today I put on my shirt just like everyone else. I put on my war paint and gracefully went into the battle. Life can be beautiful but on most days it feels like a battlefield and I am not sure if I want to live or die anymore.