save me, stranger if you please.
I watched a live concert today. I hate it when I can relate so dead on to the words in a song. For two reason, 1. Because they’re almost always depressing lyrics (and) 2. Because I wish I could have said them the way the person singing has said. I’m really tired, all the time. I’ll wake up from a nap and be more tired than when I was awake. I’m also really confused, about everything, not even big things, like I can’t seem to make any decisions. A simple question such as “do you want to hang out?” is somehow the most difficult question to comprehend. It’s silly really. I’m in a 24 hour funk, as someone I know would say, except its lasting longer than that. My headaches have returned, they gave me a little break there, for about 2 days or so, but now they’re back.
There aren’t many things that stress me out. I can handle finals, laundry, errands, work, whatever, but there is nothing more irritating than when I have to clean my room. I get nauseas sometimes just looking at all the stuff I have to sort through, and hang up. Sometimes I just wish I could fall asleep. I get so tired and then I want to do so much, but since I’m so tired I get so stressed and cranky, it’s annoying.
I’m trying to get used to the idea of letting go. But there is NO way to replace what I’ve lost this time. (Yes, I stole that from a song) I don’t want to talk about it anymore, but I can’t help myself from thinking about it. At the most random times too. Like when I say everything reminds me of him, I mean it. Reese’s remind me of him, because he used to eat chocolate and peanut butter ice cream. Dave Matthews (for obvious reasons), Aladdin, because I once forced him to watch it, but then fell asleep, taco bell, the black dress hanging up in my closet, the spot on my couch that we resided in for what seemed like 2 days, but was really only a night. More songs than I can name, and words that can only be spoken. I’m sorry for talking about it again, and I know it’s been SO long, but I AM to in love to let go. Even though I swear to myself I don’t love him anymore.
This journal is really personal I guess. And I’m really not sure how I feel about you reading it, but I guess that’s ok, do you understand me better now? Does it at least help you to know what I’m thinking about at least SOME things? Someone told me I was a bitch once, and it made me cry. I didn’t cry because it was news to me, I just didn’t know how I was supposed to change people’s view of who I really am. Then I guess I realized I really don’t care. My friends know I’m not a bitch, even if that person who told me doesn’t. But all I can say is if this isn’t helping anyone see me better, then I don’t want to do it anymore. I want to get rid of this… or at least stop writing.