05.04.03 . 12:51 p.m.
298: The End

i hate the way things turn out. whether they are by accident or whether by well thought-out decision making.

mostly, in my case, it is due to poor judgment, and lack of control on my own situations in life. i tend to let my passions do the thinking for me. passion is a beautiful thing, but it has such an element of falstivity.

when i was younger, i used to pride myself in being a passionate, artistic girl who had the world at her fingertips, and a million choices to make, and a million things to do, and a million people to love.

i have a bad habit of getting to close to people, and then ripping it apart at the seams. but never on purpose, and never conciously. it just happens. and i hate to even get into this, but im sure it has SOMETHING to do with the way i was raised, and the lifestyle i had when i was a child. but i never use that as a scapegoat, because i loathe that aspect in people. but here i am: saying it.

i wish that i could go back in time, wipe slates clean, and start over.

things are never simple to me, when they should be. i have so much love inside of me and i have so much of it i want to give, and for some reason, i give it away all to easily. but at the same time, i want to keep it held tightly. i realize im being slightly ironic here.

ive never had many friends. i tend to keep a lot of things to myself, im a very private person, i share things only with a select few, and its the way ive always been. im outgoing, and social, and easily ammused, and im always (mostly) energetic, and i just enjoy being in the midst of excitement. however, im still very private, and i dont like to KNOW too many people. i have very few friends that are actually REAL friends. people who know my secrets. people who know my history. my past. what drives me. what i think about when i fall asleep at night. what i feel when i close my eyes. what i think about things.
and i keep these people close to me.
but, for some reason, ive always done something to fuck them up. to ruin them. to make them angry.
to me, its always by pure accident. never intentional.
i have this terrible way about spoiling things.

i never mean to hurt the ones i love.
i never mean to abandon my truths that i know deep inside.
i never mean to dissect everything important until nothing remains of it but bone, when we know the skin is needed to protect.

i make myself ill with thoughts about things ive done to the ones closest to me.
to you. who ive hurt many many times, and always felt so awful for it..to the point where i could barely speak because i had no words to articulate the intense emotions inside. so instead, i remain speechless, which is the worst thing to do.
words always need to be said.
but im so awful at expressing myself.
sure, here, there is this veil. this empty box that allows us to let loose, and reveal little bits of our lives to strangers who mean shit.
but in real life, when it MATTERS, when it COUNTS: i have nothing.
i could write one thousand pages of the most personal poetry, but when i need to say something meaningful and sincere, i fall silent and sit there with a blank expression.
i push people away. always in times when i need them the most.
it drives me fucking insane!
this in-this out-of emotion.
i get to a breaking point so many times a year when i just want to closedown and be alone.
to be by myself to sit on the edge of my bed and listen to The Cure as loudly as possible..so i can feel sorry for things and the way my life seems to be.
but im not dramatic like that, and im not a pill popper, and i dont go around feeling sorry for myself, because i think im always above that.
but fuck, if that wouldnt feel good. and im not sure how any of that makes any sense at all!
if i had a better understanding of the reasons why i push people away and do things unintentionally to cause grief, i could sleep better at night.
but im clueless.
and its exhausting..trying to find the reasons. because, i think if i could find those reasons, then i could resolve things in my mind, and with people. and i wouldnt be so afraid to just give up that part of myself that i still cling so tightly to.
i dont know if im afraid of giving myself completely to someone out of fear of abandoment, which i suppose, if i paid someone $100 an hour, would be gold to them. but see, the problem with all of that, is that i dont think i AM afraid of abandonment.
im not afraid to open myself up to people, because i do it so willingly, and i trust everyone i know. i always try to see the good in people, because i always know its there.
i love. i hurt. i get shit on. i cry. i breakdown.
i love. i hurt. i get shit on. i cry. i breakdown.
rinse. repeat. rinse. repeat.
im vulnerable to the pains and pleasures of love just as much as the next person.
so what?
what IS it that makes me this way?
i feel this desperate NEED to understand why i am the way i am.
the problem i have mostly, is sacrifice.
im so unwilling to sacrifice anything for someone else.
i dont think its because im selfish, because im never reall thinking about myself.
i have this terrible way about me, where i fall back into old habits, and old patterns.
it gets to the point to where i need a new story. so bad. i need something new to just get me away from the shit from the past.
i wish i had an awful drug problem or a drinking problem. that way, i would have something tangible to blame it on. and people would 'understand' and then theyd get a look on their face of pity, and give me a hug.
but i dont have a drug problem. and i dont have a drinking problem.
and im not about to start.

when i was a child, i was so afraid id end up like my father. that cold, uncaring, alcoholic, abusive man that he was. i was afraid i would hurt thoes around me.
then as i got into my teens and even in my early twenties, i realized i wouldnt be that way. no. not me. because i dont drink. and i dont get physically abusive to those around me.
i almost wish i did.
i almost wish i could raise my fist and punch someone in the face so hard their noses break.
get a bandage. and a kleenex to stop the bleeding.
instead, i make my wounds go a little deeper. i fuck with hearts. and minds.
im sick of the excuse that its never intentional.
im sick of feeing like a failure when it comes to these types of things.
im sick of being close to people.
im sick of opening my heart, getting in, and letting someone else get in, and then shutting myself off, closing the doors, with their foot wedged between doors and walls.
im sick of this nervous quality i have.
im sick of being a fucking moron.
im sick of writing about this bullSHIT.
because its pointless, and pathetic, and i feel like a drama-queen for even going on this long about anything.
i feel like i should just shut up, suck it in, and go about things.
but i really really am. im so sick of being this fucking idiot woman with insecurities and doubts.
im sick of not knowing how to control it.
and maybe thats all it..maybe i CAN control it?
how the fuck should i know?!

i wish things were simple. and i could just sit on the edge of my bed listening to Disentigration.i wish i could drown out thought all together..about everything. about anything. i feel like just taking a shower for twelve hours straight.

maybe do the soul some good.

i fucking wish.


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