Can you crack under the weight of all your feelings? Will your head explode if someone too big to comprehend begins to fill your thoughts? Will you die unknown or unloved completely by one person because you were too scared to let them know? Would he hold you if you cried or would he run?
I have so many questions, so little answers, and the person who holds the key to my sanity is running from me and getting faster every day. I cannot fight the darkness inside me alone any longer. I met you a year ago and since then you have saved my life a thousand times. You are my patron saint who keeps me from the edge of the cliff. But if you’re gone and the monsters come, can I fight them? Do I have all the weapons I need or did you take my armory and flee?
I think I am getting sad again. I’ve been sleeping too much and I don’t feel like doing anything anymore. Actually, there’s tears on my face as I write this. I have something missing in me. Well more like someone missing beside me. He’s supposed to be here. He’s supposed to love me. I have loved him for two years straight and I’ve sat back as he’s gone out with other girls who didn’t love him, girls who ruined him. I just want to be there for him, I just want to show him what love is, real love. I want to hold his hand, I want to kiss him good morning and good night. I want to look across my kitchen table in twenty years and see his face behind a coffee mug. I want to find his warm feet under the sheets in the dark. I just want to love him.
I haven’t written in so long. I feel like a rude bastard because of that. Anyway.
I have this minora/majora/super/slight/immense/miniscule crush on this boy who is two years younger than I am. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me these days. I don’t think I really actually like him. I think I’m subconsciously projecting my feelings for my ex of the same name onto him and it’s not fair to him. Or me, because I’m currently full of these messy emotions and they’re like bubblegum in the cogs of the machine that is my “heart.” I’m just kind of lonely, I suppose. I never really get much of what we teens call “action.” Or attention, for that matter. And as much as I love them, the video games, comics, novels, and naps are getting old. They just don’t fill the void anymore.
I don’t write about break ups. I could say that but I’d be lying to you. However, I definitely don’t write about new love. Truly new, not friend-love turned love-love turned fuck-you. I can safely say this a truly different. I didn’t meet a boy, a boy found me. He accepted me, took me in, appreciated what was already there. The Boy Who Found Me is a very different character than what I’ve been used to seeing. He’s sensitive, smart, romantic, poetic, and philosophical. I’d be lying to you if I said he’s not everything I look for in the person I want to spend the rest of my life with.
I can’t do anything in this body. I can’t send risque pictures to my boyfriend, I can’t wear skimpy clothes, I can barely feel my ribs. I am trapped in this flesh cage. This body doesn’t deserve food. This body used to weight 100 pounds. I am so close. 28 pounds away. I’m going to lose a solid 30 in the next two months. I want to be perfect again. I’m tired of being this huge blubbery whale. I want to feel sexy and cute and small. I want to be thin again.
I can say ‘I love you’ and mean it. I can mean it that way. The way we all want to say it and the way we all want to hear it. I get to hear it every day. And not just in it’s normal ‘I love you’ form. Sometimes it’s deeper, sometimes it’s childish. It’s still what we all crave to hear. It sounds like a line from a movie, and I’m sure somewhere it is, but he said it to me. To me, over the phone in the earliest hours of the morning. I’ll never forget it as long as I live. “I met you, and I knew that was it. I looked at you and knew you were the person I was going to spend the rest of my life with. I loved you since day one.”
And who knows? Maybe he stole it from a movie. Do I really give a shit? No. The important thing is that I’d never heard it from a movie or another person before him. So it means the world to me. He means the world to me. Which is a scary thing. But I’m ready. I need to start giving more of myself to the people I love and I think is a good way to start.
I feel too much. I empathize too easily and so all these feelings are weighing in on me and I shut down. I am invariably numb to most things. The “don’t care” attitude is a by-product of being over processed by other peoples’ emotions, opinions, and trying to be put down. Once you stop caring, they can’t hurt you.
You can only hurt yourself. I figured that out in therapy. Or maybe I was in a library, I don’t really remember. But all of these emotions run through and me and they tear up my insides, cause my blood to boil, and make me want to skin myself alive.
It’s not that I’m never happy, it’s just something always ruins it. I just pay too much attention. “The worst part about being a wallflower is noticing little things. Especially for you because you fall in love with every pretty or interesting thing you see. And when something doesn’t pan out like you thought, it breaks your heart.”
My therapist is never wrong and honestly, he’s a genius. Everything breaks my heart. Seeing people holding hands when I can’t do that, watching reality t.v. about toddlers in beauty pageants, seeing people angry at each other. It all makes me angry at the world. Anger and sadness go hand in hand. They’re all by each others sides. If I was JUST angry or if I was JUST sad, I could handle it. But no, I am both and sometimes they mix with a sliver of hope and it’s like a speeding train. The hope makes me oblivious to the danger and I just keep walking that dark track, actually smiling. But when I look up and see the light of the train, I can’t get away fast enough.
Obviously, my mask has some cracks. The generic wear and tear of never being able to be yourself. I feel like I say this all the time but everyone thinks I’m joking.
I am not allowed to be sad, depressed, upset, woeful, or despondent.
Because I have made my niche as that “funny girl who’s always happy, she just has a dry sense of humor, she’s so sweet” and I fucked myself over with that.
I am not allowed to sit down one day and not speak and sulk about something that happened to me because I have to bear the grunt of all my friends’ emotions.
“Hey, I need advice.” “Can you help me?” “I’m in love and I don’t know what to do.” “How do I talk to this guy?” “I’m so upset, please cheer me up.”
When do I get to be sad? I have to take up the emotional slack for all these people because they think I have so much happiness inside that I dish out like a bank.
Well truth be told, I’m in debt and it’s going to take a lifetime to pay back. So until then, I have to fix my mask, not let anyone see things get to me.
They almost saw things get to me tonight. I almost started crying in public, and I just can’t let that happen. I have seen most of my friends cry and they have heard about me crying. And the way I say it usually implies a joking edge. I feel like because I’ve built up this persona I’m not allowed to really have as wide a range of emotions as everyone else. I can rant, and I can be happy, and I say I like someone and be excited. That’s all. God forbid I actually let something that’s affecting me register on my face.
I hate talking.
I never think when I speak. Not even once. My mind turns into a corn crop during the dustbowl and it’s blank.
I just hate the way my voice sounds.
But I talk and I talk and I talk and I talk and I talk.
Because silence is too much. I can’t stand it and it tells all my secrets when it’s around.
You like talking.
You always seem so put together when you speak and you never have to backtrack very far if you do mess up a point. Your mind is a garden and I dwell there.
I just love the way your voice sounds.
When I talk with you, I don’t have to speak. I can nod or just make agreeing noises in my throat.
I like that so much more than my talking constantly about shit that has not, and will not ever matter.
I run my mouth too much because I’m afraid of what I’ll think in public if I don’t.
I wish I wasn’t known as a talker, because I barely want to speak and yet I feel like I’m obligated to always be making noise because that’s “who I am” and so I must carry on.
I just want my lips sewn shut.
I’m tired of getting faked out by people who can’t decide what the hell they want.
I’m sorry that a make out session means something to me.
Excuse me for believing in basic human decency and actually trusting people.
They don’t even know they hurt me. And they never will because honestly it doesn’t bother me, I’ll get over it. But it makes me think that I should give it up. I already have a per-ordained relationship, so why should I be looking for anything? I should be content with what and who I have for right now.
Now, I’m not saying that these people are not enough. Honestly, the people in my life are probably the best out of the bunch. They put up with all my shit (and let me tell you, it’s like a manure farm) but never get tired of me. They are the strongest, most beautiful people I have ever met and probably ever will meet.
But you can’t live on just friendship, no matter how strong the bonds.
We are human.
We need attention, love, physical contact.
No, I don’t want to just have an orgasm and run. Quite frankly I barely even want to kiss. I just want to have one person that if I’m gone I’m the one they will definitely miss.
