× en·er·gy

Journal

I feel disconnected from the world.

Travis left me on read for four hours after I told him I got my barista certification.

I try so hard for him, I put in so much fucking effort for him, and then I get hit with that?

I said I was gonna make an apple pie from scratch for him and his family this thanksgiving, but like? Why? I wanted to, but only if I feel like there is equal effort put in. I don’t really.

I let this guy finish inside me after I’ve been done for a few minutes already. I fucking shower before I see him every time with no exceptions – and we hang out all the goddamn time. I’m out here shaving my legs everyday for him. Bringing him and his family leftover pastries when I close- I give them my coffee mark-outs from work. Like. I pay for him almost everywhere we go, I’m sucking his dick, I’m getting to know his little brother.

And he left me on read for four hours after I told him good news.

Alright, buddy.

Then you leave me on read? Really?

Fucking thought my birthday was on the wrong day. And on top of that he admitted he forgot to get me a gift?

It’s OKAY for those things to happen, but telling me them is just like rubbing in my face how much you don’t care.

I told him my birthday. More than once.

I’m tired. I feel like I deserve more than that.

He just told me that he didn’t respond because he found out his brother won’t be coming home for thanksgiving. So why didn’t he just message me that when he found out? Why didn’t he just communicate this?

Everywhere I look I feel like I’m making up signs that we won’t work. I don’t want them to be there, I’ve just become so cautious in my relationships. I’ve been broken by so many people, I’m always looking for the cues I thought I missed before..

Getting left on read was one of them. Watching the other person slowly lose interest in you.

On the outside I look totally calm, but inside it’s this downward spiral inside my chest that’s sickening. I feel awful.

What if I look back one day and shake my head for being such a dumb bitch? Willing to do what it takes to make something work when the other person wasn’t working nearly as hard?

I guess I don’t know what went down with his brother ((still waiting for him to respond to me about that)) – but if I can find time to message him on days that I work 8+ hours and having a mental breakdown, I feel like he can message me on a day when he was probably just cleaning his room before thanksgiving and dealing with whatever family drama is going down.

I’m giving him the most – I shouldn’t be when he isn’t doing the same.

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Chronic

Journal

Can you feel it? Seeping in through your pores? Crawling up your spine as an ache? Disguised as the creaking of your joints, it settles in.

You cannot escape it.

Sitting up, your back ceases. You cannot move. The bags under your eyes have gained weight. Your temples begin to pulse.

Dehydration. Chronic exhaustion. Your body needs rest, water, food.

Life does not permit. There are bills to be paid, groceries to be bought, work to be done, chores that go neglected, school work that sits on the desk though the week.

Once you get home, though the intention was there to do these things, you fall into bed and cannot rise.

There is no time. It has been stolen from you, your life, these precious hours have been plucked like daisies of last year. You had no choice.

Resilience

Journal

I need something more to show for my effort in life. I also need to be less passionate about the people I have feelings for. Right? That poses a moral dilemma for me, though. I should allow myself to wholly be myself. But I also like people, and I know I came off too strong with Leo and not strong enough with Tristan- because I was worried about seeming clingy. Now, Jacob has me all mixed up, I don’t know how to act around him- so I was awkward and mixed my words around like a fucking blender. I’m frustrated. This whole situation is frustrating. So he’s gone for a month- to Nevada and then somewhere else (I think Europe..?).

He intimidates me, only 20 and already has a legitimate career because he’s got this incredible brain. He didn’t even have to go to college or anything. That’s a quality I hold in high regard, it’s something that I respect. However, it also means he’s never had a minimum wage job and one can only have so much life expirience without that. That makes him less genuine to me. He’s got this socially awkward thing going on, but gets away with it because he’s attractive and has a sense of style.

Weird thing happened though, after sex he almost cried. He didn’t, but I could see it in his eyes. Maybe he was holding back a sneeze? And he kissed my forehead during sex– which I’m not used to having any sort of emotional connection or attachment and it caught me off guard. But he also hasn’t talked to me for two days straight and he’s supposedly back home packing to move to San Francisco, but I’m not sure I trust him. I don’t know that I believe he’ll see me once he comes back. Maybe I was too cold?? Too harsh? I know I can be. Maybe he just doesn’t like me.

Our interactions made me insecure- I didn’t feel like I was enough. And it didn’t help that I was rude to him. I use it as a defense mechanism when I feel threatened…

When we first started talking two years ago, I felt this same way and it trigger the biggest personality change in me. I grew a thicker skin and overall became resilient. But how am I supposed to know he won’t hurt me like that again and ghost me? I know he mentioned thinking I was less awkward and more attractive than him, but he did it once before.

I would be an idiot to think he wouldn’t.

I learned to put less value on guys perception of me. It would hurt to have him ignore me again. I need validation and hate to ask for it. I wish I was stronger.

Toxic

Journal

I care. Probably too much. He’s not even in my life anymore and I question how genuinely he cared about me. It’s always in the back of my head that he might have just kept me around for someone to fill his time with and sleep with cause technically that’s all we were. Maybe I’m incapable of having something casual and no strings attached. That’s what it was supposed to be.

I’m too emotionally involved. He doesn’t care.

I just need to move on..

but I don’t want to let go of how I feel.

Nothing is worse than caring about someone more than they care about you- but I feel like that sums up how my feelings for people generally play out.

That cavernous ache in my chest is back. I’m alone. I’ll probably always end up alone. The only thing worse than being alone is feeling like you finally found someone and then they just stop being around. Or they never cared about you in the first place.

Reminding myself why I’m not alright, why I haven’t succeeded, why I’m fucked up. Wondering how much of it is a choice. Could I have changed any of this? Is it just my destiny to be a loner?

I guess it’s just who I am. Awkward, dysfunctional, toxic, and in the end, alone.

aim·less

Journal

Everyone I talk to tells me exactly why they don’t like me. I am constantly being told why I am not a good person and then I look at girls like her and I can understand why no one would ever want me. I’m just not a good person. It’s moments like these that I have to really fight not finally killing myself, that I remind myself how many times I didn’t give in to the temptation. But is life worth living if you hate yourself and people around you hate you too?

The sad truth is that no one was around when I would throw away my belongings because I was planning on killing myself and didn’t want other people to have to go through the emotional distress of getting rid of the dead girl’s things. No one was around when I wrote the drafts of my suicide notes. No one was talking to me when I had a knife to my throat, or pills in my hand, or when I tried to drown myself. Nobody ever bothers to genuinely ask how I am. I’m not okay. I haven’t been okay. But I consistently hear from people saying that I’m a waste of their time, that they know why they broke up with me, that I am the worst person they know. It seems like everyone has the time to tell me what’s wrong with me, but no one has the time to care about me.

I feel like that’s a problem of mine. I get constant badgering of why I’m not good, yet no one has ever bothered to love me. Not my parents or my siblings or even my friends. I’m fucking alone. It’s a miracle I’m alive today and nobody realizes how close I have come to dying. Not even just dying. How close I’ve come to killing myself. I feel like I don’t have a place in the world. I feel unwanted.

I don’t need anyone to love me, I’ve proven that just by living, but it would be nice if they did me the decency of not actively trying to upset me.

Let me binge drink in the shower alone. Let me do my fucking job. Let me be the vindictive and self destructive person I am in peace. Let me be alone. I might never be happy, I’ll never be carefree and good, and you’ll never love me.

I know you’ll never love me. I can hardly find it in me to love myself.

Bare Bulbs

Journal

She pulled some old foil from a paper bag filled with trash. The paper bag had been serving as a trash can in her home – by Home, she was living in a glorified garden shed with a single, bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling. She slept on a naked mattress that may have been mistakenly placed there at some point – no framework, no sheets, nothing to give intention. Beetles often would crawl through baseboards, up her walls, and greet her face to face in bed. Foil in hand, she fashioned it into a makeshift spoon – her family back home kept calling to see if they needed anything. She always said no. Ashamed to admit that her single can of beans would be opened with a pocket knife and consumed cold with a spoon made from the old seal of a long forgotten tub of yogurt. Underneath a bare light bulb, in a garden shed, on top of a hill, in a city that reeked of placidity.


His face contorted by anger, screaming something about how ungrateful they were. She hit pause on the moment, collecting herself. Just how many times had she found herself in this place; A man, a mother’s lover, threatening her safety with harsh words and violence? How many more times would she let it happen? Unpause. He grabs a cup and throws it against the kitchen wall in her direction, it was a gift from her grandma. The answer was “no more”. A sister was having convulsions in the corner, nothing had ever filled her with so much rage. No one should treat them like this. Trembling, sobbing, her older sister being enclosed with a hug. No more. No more. He had run from the scene, perhaps to cleanse himself of the murder he had just committed, yet he still yelled. You better fucking leave or I’ll make you regret it. / A threat. / The last threat. / Fucking try me, little bitch. / No response. / Coward. / Her sister’s eyes were glossed over, all but black. A voidness she had never encountered before. Running upstairs, she grabbed the first duffel bag she saw and stuffed it with clothing – she would never come back. She wasn’t sure where she was going, but she would not stay here.

frail·ty

Journal

The cavernous hole inside, swallowing light. Eating away at the life, slowly and surely it will die. Heavy headed, clouds on the mind. Aching for a presence. Missing and mish-mash, gone yet never mine.Ever-looming possibilities, worst is yet to come. This desire is unprofitable – all outcomes end in idle pain. Harboring cool indifference, you’ll never come around – as my weakness, you stand before me. Tender condemnation – forever segmented into a whole by the love I never received.

/gasp/

Journal

Place me inside of a glass jar,
Release into the vast expanding
Universe we gasp for air.

Closed off. Veins pulsing. Hot,
Glowing orbs protest against our breath.
There is nothing to breath in this
shallow environment.

Everything is a thin film away
from being ours. Unobtainable, running
in circles around my cage. Unaware that
I have made no progress.

ce·ment

Journal

Yet another night, staring into my own eyes, unrecognizable against the dark backdrop. They are filled with some substance? Something terrifying, absent.

A black matter, invisible yet completely present. Intangible.

Glazed over, they go on and on forever sinking deeper and deeper within me, and nothing.

There is nothing.

Emptiness. Dank, cold, something that would send chills of terror down the spine of any.

It’s the fear we all have, complete and utter loneliness. To be truly alone.

To have lost yourself.

To have realized the lies you have told yourself about one day waking up and suddenly feeling belonging. To suddenly feel satisfied.

It will never happen.

Everyday will be like this: the monotony. The plain. The early mornings. The bills. The endless work and school. I will never be free.

I can never live.

res·o·nate

Journal

Things I learned today: there is no sense in (verbally) complaining. It just shares your negative energy with those around you.

Sometimes it’s best to let bad vibes roll past. Sometimes it’s best to let them resonate with your soul to better understand what’s going on inside yourself.

It’s okay to be attached to people, even if you know they won’t be in your life for the long haul. It’s okay to love people who won’t be around forever. It’s not only okay, it is good.

I have to wake up at 6am tomorrow morning, I clocked off at 12:40. Got home at 1ish. And now I’m finally in bed.

Heartbroken, but I’m moving on. I’m sensitive, but I’m growing. I’m in love, but it is not my prison.

Life is constant chaos; It is the ebb and flow of peace and turmoil. As a human, it’s my job to adapt and grow with my surroundings. But amidst the ebbing and flowing I’m misconfigured into something nearly inhuman. As Bilbo Baggins once put it, like butter spread thin over too much toast. I can’t quite be happy like that.

I’m feeling spread very thin. Emotionally because I have feelings for one guy, I’m sleeping with another, constantly trying to discover who I am and I have just about no one to talk about it with. Physically because I’m working full time and these last four days alone I worked 32 hours (maybe even a little more because I stayed late). Not having a car means walking a lot, so my body is sore and exhausted.

I never have a moment alone anymore. I’m sharing a room with Riley, and our schedules are the same right now. When I’m home, she is. When I’m working, she is. I just want to sleep in a room by myself. Quiet, things where I left them, sense of privacy. That thought becomes more distant everyday.

I should really just post this and get some rest, but there is so much on my mind. Self care is more important.