(no subject)
I would love to say that this is a cry for help. But the truth? It's that no one can help. It's that running away doesn't help. Asking the people (person) who I thought I could always run to...well, the truth is that he is stressed out too. And my situation is old news. So stressing him out over it does not help. Not that he has time to listen anyways. On the bright side, he's calling. Moving on...I guess I never thought that this kind of change would be this hard. And it's not a momentary thing. It's a daily thing. I am on the verge of tears at least once every fucking day. It's rediculous. So...I try and create a little problems to distract myself. I try so hard...and when the one moment that I've been waiting for comes around...well, it's gone so quickly that the comfort I expected doesn't even have time to settle. I know, I sound like a whiny bitch. but I don't care. Because I am trying so hard to help myself, because I have asked for help in so many places, and I cannot be helped. So I am trying desperatly to write. Because sometimes that helps. I don't know how much it will, but it never hurts to try. I keep running back to my family, and I keep realizing that they can't change anything. I keep realizing that my friends provide advice, but they can't do anything for you...I'm trying to do something for myself. I'm trying so hard. And I'm failing. So when I crash...and I will...there will be a catalyst, and the blame will fall towards them. But it won't be their fault. It will still be mine.
mea culpa
mea culpa