I don’t want to write in my journal, and I haven’t for a while. I don’t want to look back in ten years and remember how sad I was. I just refuse. But it does suck. After Saturday, it will be official: I will be out of the house I grew up in, and I will no longer have any physical thing connecting me to my dad. It’s a strange feeling. I’m sick of feeling like this. I’m trying to be positive, trying to stay happy, but on the inside I’m breaking, I have shattered into a million pieces. I’m sick of the nightmares about him that plague me on almost a nightly basis; I want my dream catcher tattoo in hopes that it will help weed them away. I’ve realized how much I don’t trust people now, how I don’t let people in easily any more. The one person I assumed would be my rock has crumbled, and I feel as if I can’t let myself be that attached to anyone again. I know that the circumstances are different, but even as I kiss the boy I know I’m still in love with, I know that a piece of him is still with another, and it hurts. I guess I can’t blame him, though. I can not give myself to him fully, so why should he do the same for me? I am just hurt and broken and falling to pieces. I am trying to stay composed because being sad all the time is going to get me no where. I have goals and dreams and aspirations, and I intend to achieve it all. 

I’ll just continue to hold my breath. I’ll keep moving forward. I’ll remember that there is hope. 

That’s all I can really do.

Cigarettes. Everything includes cigarettes these days with me. My mom calls me, I light up. I drink coffee, I light up. Something reminds me of a time I want to forget, I light up. 

We were sitting at the cafe today, doing homework and surfing the web and listening to music like we’ve done a million times before. Something was different about this time. I wasn’t all there, my mind was wandering. I was annoyed at some of his little antics and a few of the things he said. I tried to focus, but couldn’t. All he was talking about was her: how he wanted to see her, how she hadn’t texted him back, how he was unsure of what was going on between the two of them. The jealousy in me kicked in, but I stayed quiet. My opinion of the situation shouldn’t matter. We weren’t together, and he was free to say or do whatever he wanted. It hurt, though. It shouldn’t have, but it did. After last week, when we had shared a moment in his truck on our drive just to drive, and the next night when we shared his bed like we had done a thousand times before, it mattered to me. I was falling again, and I was trying to let myself, trying to keep my heart open. I had been without feeling in so long that I just wanted something to cling to, something to remind myself that I was alive. As much as we didn’t want things to be complicated, in my mind, they were. The “what if’s” are too difficult for me to think about now, and I know that I need to distance myself from him. After telling me that she wasn’t fond of me, and how I made her uncomfortable, I shot a few words at him about our plans to move in together, and questioned how she’d feel when she was finally told about that. I refused to talk to him in the car as he drove me home, and called my mother. Calling her never makes things better. Our talk was alright until it shifted to my dad and I lit up a cigarette and pretended to be listening enough as so I wouldn’t have to speak to him in the car. By the time we reached my friend’s house, I had finished two and as I climbed out of the truck he whispered, “Are you alright?” I answered no as I let the door slam behind me. 

I know that, right now, I can’t depend on anyone to make me happy. I’m trying to do that for myself. This is why I closed myself up after the inconsiderate boy from far away. I was sick of feeling and letting my emotions run wild. I shut them down, roped them up, threw them in a cage. I tried to let myself feel again, but I only know I’m going to get hurt if I keep going the way I’m going.

So I’m tying up my emotions once more, and throwing them in the pit of my soul. I can’t let them out like this anymore. They can’t run free. I won’t survive if they do.

So I’ll light up another cigarette, and I’ll watch them fade away again.

Train

“I didn’t know you smoked. Since when?”

That’s usually what happens now. I wanted to tell him that his friend fucked me up, but I refrained. I wanted to say I started smoking right around the time I dyed my hair for almost the same reason. He shocked me when he asked, it surprised me that he didn’t know (but then again, it really didn’t at all). I told him. Our other friend tried to stop him friend asking, but it wasn’t a big deal. I’m fine. I’m better off, and I know it. I wasn’t expecting the response though.

“Oh, he cared about you, he told me. I’m glad you left though. He didn’t treat you right at all. I wouldn’t have assumed he cared if he had never told me in the first place.”

That’s comforting. Part of me was hurt, but another part was proud of myself for getting out when I did. I deserve so much better than someone like him. 

This taught me that I don’t need a guy to make me happy. I’m fine on my own. I’ll be okay, and that’s all that matters.

And that is what’s really comforting to think about.

definingmoments-:

I rely on myself. Just making sure that was clear. I’m not in need of your crutches. I face all my fears and I want what I knew I could have. Life is not a monster, make the best of what you have.

(via definingmoments--deactivated201)

definingmoments-:

I’m starting to realize that some of the people I considered my closest friends, don’t always reciprocate these beliefs. I’m continuing to find out that they will say how much my friendship means to them, how much they love me, or how they wouldn’t want to ever lose me, but that’s just it-they say these things. More and more I am seeing the actions of my friends not measuring up to the words and phrases they toss around with me so easily.

I’ve come to learn that I need to stop caring as much as I do. Whenever I care, I end up hurt. Honestly, if you know me, it doesn’t seem like I care a lot, but I really do. I’m the type of person whose emotions run deep, so its very hard to be half invested in a relationship. I’m usually either all or nothing and I’m starting to feel like maybe that’s a personal fault of mine.

I need to stop investing so much of myself in relationships where the other person does not equally put out. I need to stop making people a priority when it’s obvious I’m only their’s on paper. I’m done caring about a lot of the people I currently have relations with.

You know what’s sad though, I wonder how many people feel this way about me. Hopefully none, but if I try to keep the way I feel about this concealed, then I can only guess that other people do too.

(via definingmoments--deactivated201)

Before my thoughts consume me.

liana-wanderlust:

I need to take this advice…

I’ve been having these crazy nightmares where I’m so drunk and I can’t find someone to talk to them. Each night the scene is different, but the story line is there. After a while, I realize I’m dreaming, but I’m so drunk that I can’t wake up, and I know this. I know that I have to wait until I’m sober so I can wake up, or for some one/thing to wake me up from outside of the dream.

My best friend told me tonight that I need to pray. A lot of people have been telling me that, as well. I don’t understand why it’s proven so difficult for me to find comfort in prayer, in God. I grew up in the church, praying almost every day. Why is it so hard for me now? I think part of me just doesn’t want to be let down again, but I know that, even if it doesn’t work, there’s nothing for me to lose. I need to just do it.

I guess part of me is worried that my plans will change yet again. That I won’t be able to do the insignificant things I want to do like drink wine, smoke cigarettes, and go out for coffee. Those things really shouldn’t matter, but they somewhat do to me. I’m afraid my plans to move will change yet again, and I will let more people down in the process. I know people, eventually, will be okay, but I’m not sure I could take another letdown of being able to see my life work out a certain way, only to have it torn down. I know that God has bigger and better things in store for me, but I just can’t be certain what those things may be.

I’m becoming more and more comfortable in this house where I am surrounded by people of this religion. Each day I become more openminded. It’s not a bad thing, but when I find that some of the people I love criticize the religion (saying things like, “Oh, don’t go converting to that religion.”) I can’t help but be offended. I feel as if I’m the only one who really understands what’s going on in my head… that’s a lie. God is the only one who understands, because even I am having trouble sorting out all of my ideas and thoughts. 

Part of me believes that everything that has happened in the last few months has led me to this. I believe strongly in the idea that everything happens for a reason, that God has a plan for us all, and (although he gave us free will to choose to accept or deny) He opens the doors to bigger and better things for us all. What if I was supposed to leave my house in order to live here with this family for a reason? What if my plans to move the first time failed so that I’d stay here to deal with the mess (which is what I’ve realized was the better option for me)? What if I’m emailing this missionary for a reason? There are so many “what if’s”, but I feel like thinking about them isn’t a bad thing. I over think everything, but it’s not always bad. Sometimes it needs to happen.

I know that the solution is simple, I need to pray. Things aren’t going to change if I just keep sitting here, waiting for them to. I need to take a deep breath, and dive in.

liana-wanderlust:

Remember?

I do.