des·per·a·tion

Jealousy, Journal, Love, no trust, Partner, Personal

Taking a short trip through my camera roll, I recognized a pattern in my association with the photos. I took that one when I liked so-and-so. I took this one when I was dating that guy. I was rejected by this person on this day. And suddenly I remembered why I took a social media hiatus. It fueled a dysfunctional part of myself, it fueled my insecurity of how others perceive me.

I felt it again just looking at the pictures I used to post.

I was desperate. I needed validation. I needed acceptance.

It still makes me really uncomfortable thinking about if I fell back into that pattern. Relying on a guy, being left, and suddenly in a crisis.

That wasn’t me for a year. A whole year. And knowing that it’s possible for Travis and I to break up at any point (hello, I have had unforeseen breakups before), I worry what kind of spiral I could go into, if any.

I always respond to him fast, and I do it because I care about him. I do it because I find him exciting. Because talking to him brings me joy. But it also gives me that sense of acceptance I crave when he talks to me, and perhaps I am just like a guinea pig triggering it’s happy spots in its brain until it dies.

I’m afraid that my affection will drive him away because I have associated myself being attached to someone as the cause for them leaving me.

I’m over here feeling all of these things and I’m scared to form a real connection with Travis because I’m scared that in doing so, he will realize that I was too easy or something. He’ll think I’m not good enough for him. Subpar. Lower class. How many ways can I say inferior?

I thought that I had made so much progress in myself since my big mental breakdown of 2016-

but I still worry that Travis will cheat on me. I still worry that he is only complimenting me because he wants sex. I have this crippling fear inside of me that I am a social outcast because there is something seriously wrong with me.

I try to act like I have accepted it, but it’s rooted inside my heart. It’s an ugly disease in my blood.

I’m so fucking insecure.

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dis·so·nance (4-1-2018)

Awareness, fathers, fuck you, Future, home, Jealousy, Journal, Love, Memories, no trust, Partner, Personal, Relationships

Have you ever done something and not really understood why you did it? As your hand approaches your mouth with the pills weighing in your palm, and that voice inside your head is saying don’t, yet they make it into your mouth and you swallow anyway.

When you’re standing outside at four a.m. and heavily intoxicated because you have succumbed to your desire to fit in and an Uber costs $30, so you walk across town to get home while your sister is busy fucking the guy where you had been sleeping not even thirty minutes before. Before you walk home, you kick his car. A lot. and dig out your keys, leaving grooves because you’re angry that no one loves you.

The guy you have loved for the last seven months would rather lead you on and never commit because he wants to be able to fuck anyone he wants. But you love him and have lowered your standards so much that even if he has sex with someone else you would still cover up his mistakes. The line is drawn at emotional attachment now.

You run home, and when you would normally feel pain in your lungs, this time you’re so numb you cannot feel it. You slowly approach the porch, quietly walking now so as to not wake your landlord.

In your bathroom, five a.m. and there is a knife sitting to your right on the floor. Why doesn’t anybody care about you? You pick it up.

Your mom’s response to your university acceptance was “fuck you”. Your dad hasn’t talked to you in months. Your sister, who you depend on, you woke up to her making out with a guy in the same bed as you.

You’re sitting on the bathroom floor of a place you pay for with money you made from sweeping popcorn up in theaters and cleaning shit up in public bathrooms. You put the knife down, you have worked too hard to end here. You have worked too hard to give up because your family doesn’t love you.

University is on the horizon; your future, beginnings, everything you have ever looked forward to. It is coming. You know you’ll be broke, but you’ve been emotionally broken for years – and being financially broke is nothing when you have your freedom.

Say Anything

Hope, Humanist, Jealousy, Journal, Love, Memories, Partner, Personal, Poetry, Small Things

I don’t want to hear about your ex,
or the sad girl who needs your attention.

I don’t want to hear about your last relationship,
how things ended.

I don’t want to have reasons to be suspicious,
I don’t want to question if you care.

But when you talk about the sad people,
the people who needed you..
I feel like you don’t care about me.

We already are hardly talking.
We already have sexual issues.
We already have trouble communicating.

When we’re sitting in your car,
you don’t talk to me.
I look you in the eyes, thinking
“say something, say anything
but you are silent.

I just want a conversation,
a dialogue between two people.
I want a witty banter.

I’ve had enough of uneventful,
somber, silent, painful car rides.
I’ve sat in cars with guys who never talked.
I’ve been left sitting in the silence
wondering if they’ll ever open their mouth.

Say anything.

It makes me selfish.
It makes me a bitch.
It makes me jealous.
It makes me who I am
And nothing less.