I don’t write because I have nothing to say, not because of you or anyone–only me. I don’t do a lot of the things I used to because the inspiration isn’t there, not because of you or anyone–only me.
I write this now, with a lack of words. There is no context, or even a point.
Who the hell am I kidding? I know the answer and so does she. Its done, its over. I still don’t know how it got to this point though. Was it her forcing me to see her in the negative way she saw herself? Or was it me becoming bored? I think I’m trying to figure that out so I know what I should do, but finding that answer isn’t an easy task.
I feel like this confusion is eating me alive. I know I’ll bounce back, and I know she will too. I just don’t know why?
If only. I don’t think she’ll ever read this, nor very many other people, but thats kind of the point. This is all just a way for me to vent; I don’t always use it but I try.
I have problems that still exist. That never went away. Its always been hard for me to trust people. For as long as I can remember anyways. I hate it. In recent years though, I think I’ve been through a lot that has made that worse. The rose’s thorns, the angel’s blades–I think they made it hard. I don’t want to get hurt, but I know if I keep going down this path; I’ll end up hurting myself. And then, I won’t just be hurt, but feel dumb too.
A part of me just wants to sleep, dream, and never wake; become a dormant star.
I’m honestly completely lost on this one. I don’t feel like I have anyone to turn to. I need some one that won’t judge me. That is willing to help me. What do I do? How do I fix this?
I don’t do a lot of the things that I used to a lot anymore. I’m not why, its not for a lack of time, at least not yet. So I’ve come into a realization: do I still like the things I think I love to do?
I’m fearful that this will lead to the death of who I know myself to be; but I’m probably over-reacting. I think if I just get back to doing them, I’ll likely do them more depending on how much I do them.
It amazes me sometimes–how well I feel I know myself, compared to others my age. I can remember every instance of me finding myself. From making a Windowblinds skin, pixel by pixel, to learning HTML, CSS, and PHP. The thing I learned is that I must find the things I like, because they can’t find me. I guess it helped that I wasn’t the most social person around; although I think it would have been nice to have some one work with me on a web site, even though I knew I could never really finish it.
So how do you gain the knowledge of ones self? Exploration. Find what you like, find what you don’t, and find what you love. And no, you can’t force change; its often a slow process, but its worth it in the end. I learned that again.
I’ve come along way from where I was year ago. I’ve grown. I like to think that she had something to do with it. In fact, with out her I think I would be generally the same person.
I’ve found something really worth living for; and if necessary, something worth dying for. I’m in love.
I still worry–only now, I feel like it has less of a grip on me; like I’m in control again. I can’t remember a time that I was happier. I’m still not sure that I deserve any of it, but I sure am glad I have it.
Its been over a month since I lasted posted; for awhile, my progress seemed to be good right up until about a week ago–I started worrying again. I’m not sure, but I think it mostly has to do with the time of the year.
January 20, 2006 was, with out a doubt, the worst day of my life. I remember everything about it, right down to what shirt I wore. I woke up that mourning expecting it to be a good day. I planed in the days before to wear my white fallen shirt, of which fallen was written in black letters in a cursive like font–it was one of my favorites.
I was going to ask ‘the rose’ if she wanted to be my girlfriend. From what I could tell, she would have said yes. When I first saw her, she was no longer acting like she liked me, but I only thought she was playing hard to get so I persisted. I remember lunch; two people that were normally there weren’t, leaving the head count at four, the ‘rose’ being one of them. I felt a little out of place, being as I was the only guy there guy there. Despite that we choose to sit on the floor to eat like it was any other day. After everyone was done, one of the girls pulled out a deck of cards, they were water proof, a transparent plastic; I thought they were pretty cool.By this time, the worst part of the day had already happen–still unknown to me.
The end of the school day came around, and I started to expect that maybe ‘the rose’ wasn’t playing. I tired to kiss her, but she evaded me. I still wasn’t sure, although by then I should have been. She didn’t want to be with me; I’m glad I didn’t ask her anything. I went to the bus as usual and rode home where the news awaited me.
As I walked in the door, it seemed to be normal. I head toward my room and was going to take a nap, but my mom followed; she was going to deliver the news. I remember that look on her face; she was scared and she didn’t want to tell me but knew she had to. She told me that my sister’s dad, my step-dad for four or so years had ‘taken his own life’ as she put it.
I was shocked–the man that I hadn’t seen in years and the best father figure that I ever had had done what I thought about doing times before. I wasn’t sure, and still not sure, how I was supposed to feel. Everyone had always told me that he used to hit me in my head all the time, I never remember those time. What I do remember was him taking me and my friends to Sea World every now and then. I remember arguing with him over something and telling him that he wasn’t my dad and that I didn’t have to listen to him and then him making me right ‘Thou shall obey your mother and father’ several time, only I added ‘not your step-father’ to the end.
My mom hadn’t told my sister yet, she was eight at the time, and wanted us to be there when she told her later that night. She sat her on the sofa and told her the truth. I watched with tears rolling from my eyes.
When I told ‘the rose’ about what had happen she was shocked and seemly confused. She didn’t believe me, and didn’t really seem to care. I could tell that she was going to tell me something that I didn’t want to hear, but because of the what happen she didn’t say anything. I told her goodbye and planned not to call her the next day.
I don’t remember much about the following day, I remember telling ‘the angel’ of which sounded concerned and like she really cared. She doesn’t know it, but I was thankful for that.
When it all comes down to it, I was in pain and didn’t really know how to handle it. I fell that day and it was written on my shirt.
That was a year ago and I think I’ve come a long way since then. I’m on my way. Rolling by at a steady pace and although I may hit some bumps along the way, I still roll. Pit stops are going to be necessary.
Its a circle of sorts–I worry that she getting tired of my worrying and she tells me that she isn’t, but I think she is–so I worry. Lets say, for example, that I didn’t worry, just an example. What would happen? I wouldn’t worry, she wouldn’t be annoyed or be worried about my worrying.
If the puzzle piece doesn’t match up, don’t give up, take that piece out and only that piece.
I don’t need to worry so much, I fully realize that know.
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