thinking

Thinkin bout you.

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I should have let you go a thousand days ago. Back to where you came from. Back to where you belong. If I close my eyes, I still see you. I still see the same episodes and replay these images as if they had happened yesterday.

Hit replay.
Hit pause.
Start it all over again.

I could never understand how a mind could become emotionally invested in something that isn’t there. Because you don’t see me, when all I do is see you. Why do we have to analyze everything? Why do we have to obsess over all the tiny details? Why do we care so much, when others care so little. If people are not meant to be in our lives, why do we obsess about them at all?

I can’t turn my mind off for the life of me. I replay these images and think about these thoughts, while thinking about you. I know I shouldn’t. It’s all a silly game our minds play that continue to play tricks on us. Because people in my mind are better then they really are in real life. These illusions we play with that pry on our vulnerabilities and existence. I give into it. I let it all go. Knowing very well I should have let you go a thousand days ago.

I am just another girl thinking about, all the insignificant consistencies of bullshit necessesites. I want to pretend that stupid signs mean everything. That everything means something. But it doesn’t. Instead I grow crazy just wondering if its all in my head.

It is.

But I can’t stop thinking about you. And I know I should have let you go a thousand days ago. I know I should have, but I didn’t. Now I drive myself crazy with these thoughts of you. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help myself. I know I should stop, but I can’t get my mind to stop.

Do you think about me still?

Do you?

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8/16/2015 – Day Eight.

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I was once told that you should never drink alone. Drinking alone means you’re an alcoholic, something around those lines. Its not that I crave the drink. It’s not that I need the drink, its that I always need something to take the edge off. I realize the older I get I don’t care for drinking. I don’t care about being belligerent that I have to black out my thoughts. I am not trying to run away from anything but every once in a while it’s nice to escape. Feel fuzzy and feel better.

I have drank with thousands of people. Friends, foes, strangers, and family, you name it. Never alone. I wonder if its the fear of losing control that doesn’t allow me to drink alone. The fear of losing myself and allowing the gates of my mind, to flood open with nostalgia and reoccurring memories. Today I found myself alone for no reason at all. When you come from a large family, you seldom have a moment to yourself, let alone be alone. But today I found myself alone and nursing a glass of my favorite beer. It wasn’t meant to happen. Seeing beer poured into glasses and watching as one by one everyone started scattering out into the streets, or on the patio or to other areas of the house. I sat with my glass and for the first time contemplated to drink.

To drink alone is a sad definition of loneliness. While I didn’t feel alone, watching people scatter slowly to other places, I found myself alone without anyone. No one to tell a funny story. No one to say how I feel. No way to truly express myself. My fingers gripped the glass and slowly bringing the glass towards me. I waited. I waited because it’s what I always do, wait for answers. Wait for questions, wait for people to scatter back in and out of my life. I have spent a lifetime of waiting and realized that people will always scatter back in and later back out of my life, whats the point of waiting anyway? It doesn’t make much sense to wait.

I sit and wait and every moment passes me by. The condensation from the glass keeps my finger prints intact. The longer I wait the realization comes in. I can’t do this alone. Sitting here and waiting for people to scatter back in, the longer I continue to wait for them. It’s what I do best. Wait for the right time, wait for the right moment, wait for the right people to scatter out then back into my life. But the waiting makes me more anxious. The more anxious I become, the more likely I am to take the edge off. I was never a person to believe in “can’t” but lately I have been finding myself doing so. The closer the glass comes toward me, the more likely I am to drink. I can’t keep waiting anymore.

 

We all self concious, I’m just the first to admit it.

Life has a funny way of turning you into the one thing you don’t want to be.

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Its funny.

It’s just easier to make a joke out of something then coming out and stating how you really feel. How you put yourself out into the world is how you want to feel on the inside. However it’s nothing close to how you’re feeling. It doesn’t even compare. For the sake of the story you make up the person you want to present to the world. You line up all your armor and you put it on, one by one. Hoping that nothing will stop you in your quest for perfection. This armor protects you from the outside world and keeps you safe from every sort of harm.  For a moment you believe that’s real. That everything you put forth to the world is exactly who you’ve always been and everything you hide, no one will ever see. You lie to everyone. Even the people who think they know you best, don’t know you at all. That has always been my problem. It was easy to pretend to be someone else then the person I really am.

We have this sick perception of what we believe to be perfect. What we believe to be beautiful. You become succumb to the notion that this is how everything is suppose to be. You spend every last dime, sacrifice so much of who you are to be exactly how everyone else wants you to be. The countless hours I spent in front of the mirror and never truly being satisfied with who I saw. You make a caricature of yourself and for years you play this part of someone you were never familiar with to begin with. The thicker your armor becomes the more or less you start disappearing inside. The make up, the clothes, the amount of money you spend to be someone completely different from the person you grew up with. Sometimes it takes a lifetime to realize the monster you have become. Other times you just come to terms with this is who you will be for the rest of your life. We forget that we were all once loved and had a thirst and hunger for life. New beginnings and clean slates were how we came to this world. Now we’re just a sad representation of a bad Xerox copy of everyone else.

The years pass and you find yourself hurting. The dents start showing in your armor. The more you think you’re fooling everyone, in reality you’re only fooling yourself. The countless times you believe its what you wanted was really what everyone else wanted. You become a punching bag to the worst people, your own worst enemy for rolling with the punches. The quest for perfection stopped being a quest and more of a nightmare of survival. The cutting, the bleeding, the starvation, the nights you tell yourself this is what they wanted and all you want is an out. The countless times you covered yourself up to hide how you felt inside. You realize how much you wanted a life of your own instead of the sad existence that you have before you. You can’t give up. You can’t fail. Instead you do what you do best, you hide how you feel. You fall, you get up and then you start all over again.

Piece by piece, you take away the armor. Cut out the toxic people that made you miserable. Cut out the people that hurt you to believe that their perception of beauty was who you needed to be. You slowly start appreciating the good in impurities instead of finding perfection in everything. You grow up wanting more than just what everyone else wants. Little by little the armor comes off. You live. Your scars heal, your body changes and eventually it’s not a fight with yourself for happiness. You surround yourself with good people and in turn find the good in everybody again. The fears you once held eventually fade with time but only after you let go of the dark to make way for the light. It’s not easy. Its not something that changes you over night. Some nights are unbearable and some days its just a fight to feel okay.
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It’s not easy. You don’t just wake up and want to change. It takes a lifetime of dealing with bullshit people and their equally bullshit standards. In the end you just realize that it’s up to you to find your own happiness. Change the course of your life into something that will in turn make you who you truly want to be. Your past can’t hurt you, your past doesn’t define you. Your past is there to show you how you survived, and all you’ve accomplished. In the end that’s all that matters in life.

You are amazing.

You are beautiful.

One day, you’ll actually believe that.