Intrigue

How did I feel when you told me that you did what I’d been doing for months? 

Unreal. I think I stopped breathing momentarily. I was angry for the first two minutes because I thought you were trying to scare me into seeing how it made you feel & showing me that you were angry. But you weren’t angry. You kept talking…you were broken. I can’t handle ever seeing you like that again. 12 hours away and you were breaking down…I saw the pain I caused, the fear I put in you, & the stress I had you dealing with on account of my actions. 

Anything I was or wasn’t feeling went away. You were saying all the things I had said to you for a while and for the first time I couldn’t understand how someone could feel those things. I couldn’t fathom you thinking that numbness or hurting yourself would help anything. I didn’t care how sad or upset I had been anymore, I could only think about you and making the feelings you were expressing to me go away. I couldn’t allow you to feel so upset and so negative. 

I really do not think I was breathing while I was trying to get through to you & get you to talk to me and be with me and promise that you would never do something as stupid as listen to me again. What had I caused you to do? How had I hurt you so much that you could hurt yourself? What was worse was that you wanted to know if helped like I said it would. Like I said….as if I had known anything about helping anybody during that time in my life. If I could’ve, I would’ve been on a plane to you that very second. I just wanted to stop you.

I paced my room. I cried – and not the cute movie cry, it was more like an ugly Teen-Mom-Farrah/Kim-K-TV combination cry. Nothing made sense anymore. I had broken you and I didn’t know how to fix it. I never want to feel that pain & fear again. I never want to put you in a place like that again and I never want you to experience feelings the way you did that night again. I can’t live with myself if I let you live like that. It opened my eyes to a lot of things. And that’s the number one reason I haven’t taken to marking my own flesh since that day. Not because I feel I’m in a better place necessarily, & not because I don’t want to hurt myself, & not because I think it’s not a good coping mechanism (though all of these things are usually true) – it’s mainly because I can’t let you feel anything like the way I felt when it was you. I can’t scare you that way. I can’t make you cry anymore. I just don’t want to hurt you. 

Love is Louder

    Love is Louder than..

.. the stress from day to day.
.. the quick & frequent mood changes.
.. the want & urge to self harm.
.. the memories the scars hold.
.. the disappointment.
.. the nightmares.
.. the negativity.
.. the comparisons I make between myself & others.
.. the hurt I allow myself to feel.
.. the thoughts I have that keep me down, allow me to remain unhappy, & urge me to stay stagnant.
.. the depression.
.. the past.
.. who I think I am.
.. the thoughts that I’m not good enough.
.. the opinions of others that cut deeper than they realize.

Love is louder than a lot of things. Love is louder than the doubt, the depression, the sadness that I’ve felt overcome with in the present & the past. Love is louder than the idea that my future may remain negative. There are choices to be made. The future will remain unknown. But I know that love will trump anything. There is a realness in love that cannot be found in negativity, in depression, in harmful words, thoughts, or actions. Love will win. Love has taught me what other things haven’t.
Stress is not an excuse. It will be hard. It will always be something to overcome. It will be something I need to talk about. But love is louder. If nothing else, I have her love. I have love from my family, though they may know nothing about my situation. There is love. There will be love.

She.

This morning she sent me a picture that she posted online from her way into work. God, she looked gorgeous. She always looks gorgeous…but it felt like I hadn’t seen her in months. It’s been 3 weeks, which is the shortest period of time that I can remember ever saying “it’s been ___ long since I saw her.” before that, I hadn’t seen her for over a year. Things get tough, but that woman is my rock. I remember when we used to say “Roc” like the song. That was in the beginning when everything was adorable and cutesy and romantic. Things are more realistic these days. I can’t say I complain about that. I’ve grown to enjoy the fact that we have to disagree, fight, be away from each other & think about the real future before we can think about fantasy “this is what I want…in a perfect world…we should run away and..” kind of future.

I’ve learned a lot about her over the years I’ve known her. More importantly, I’ve learned a lot about myself AND I’ve learned a lot about who I can be when I’m with her. It probably is easy to guess that what I want to say following that statement is that I’m better when I’m with her. But really, that’s true.

I sleep better when I’m next to her. I feel happier when I know she’s coming home to me. I don’t have the same kind of stress when I’m visiting her, & the stress I do have she helps me get through better than I help myself when I’m alone. She’s gotten me through the hardest times in my life the past few years. I can’t replace her and what she’s done for me: I never would want to, either. If I could have it my way, we would spend forever together.

I know we have a lot to work on and work out and discuss before we can make any kind of the serious moves we’ve talked about briefly. I just always have a high hope in the back of my mind that things work in favor of that direction and we can forge a path together, finally. She isn’t the kind of girl you let leave your life and she definitely isn’t someone you just let go of without a fight or another 5,000 chances and tries and attempts. Not that we are currently struggling through anything terrible. I don’t think she is in a position where she wants to leave, but sometimes I do remind myself that it is possible. I want to be the best for her, if it’s possible. I know that we have real feelings between each other & that our bond is special. The distance makes is difficult, though, so I wonder often what things would be like for us if we were closer. You know?

The First In Months

This is a blank page. And I have nothing to say. A painfully honest statement to describe the majority of my days lately. I haven’t been able or willing to pick up a pen or crunch some keys in weeks…months, really…even though it’s the only thing I’ve constantly been thinking about. All I can think is that “writing this feeling will help me out so much. writing will help me clearly see what I’m thinking and separate my ideas and I’ll feel some peace of mind again.” BUT the reality is that I can’t even settle my mind enough to begin writing anything out – so forget explaining!

Currently: I’m at work. This is the most stressful place I know of or step foot in lately. I’d give anything to walk out of here this afternoon and never have to come back. Painful reality: I’ve got bills. College loans, a credit card someone thought would be a good idea, and gas to get. I know, gas isn’t really a bill, but it should be; I spend more on that a week than anything.

I’m typing right now simply because I like the way these keys click. I’m looking over my shoulder at the parking lot to watch for anyone coming into the building and just to see what’s out there. I really do like October. And let’s be real – typing without looking at the keyboard will never NOT make me feel like a bad ass. I’m 10 , what can I say?

Day One

Sometimes, I teeter on the idea of what I’m doing with myself. My goals have been the same goals since I was 12 years old, but often I wonder if they remain the same because I’m determined or because I promised middle-school-me that I would accomplish something.

Determination with a lack of motivation is as close to deadly as a person can get while still breathing. That sounds like it should be a Fall Out Boy song title. Maybe I should begin writing for them.

Day One of Step One: this is another attempt to do something I’ve always wanted. Write. Simply, beautifully, tragically, and terribly. Anything. I need words flowing on paper & at this point, I’m settling for electronic ink.

I’ll turn the title of this blog & these posts into a gorgeous metaphor some day. For now, I just need to get my feet stuck in the mud.

I’m all about the metaphor life, clearly. I’ll work on them.

— C.A.

worst thing