(no subject)
Sparks fly in my mind, and I wonder if it will ever catch fire.
Life continues to grow and take new form. Often, it assumes the form of what once was, leaving me to wonder the difference between reality and illusion. Once that thought enters my brain, it sprouts into questions and theories on the association of dreams, illusion, & reality, and I get lost in a world where there is no distinction. The floor increases and swallows me up as I rave in my mind about color and shape. The constant spiral, the unending twists and turns of this beautiful, horrible process we all refer to as 'living'. Time moves forward, alwaysalwaysalways forward, showing no concern and no mercy. I often find myself condemning it. Time seems to have a mind of its own in my life; He laughs and points and provokes. Because of this, I feel the inescapable urge to fight it,
to own it, to defeat it as it has, thus far, defeated me. Don't get me wrong: I am hopeful as usual, expecting the unexpected, and it expecting it to be 'good',
even if it is 'bad'. I have high hopes. My aspirations and dreams are often intimidating, but I have faith in overcoming my fears.
I recently finished a book titled, "Do You Think I'm Beautiful?" written by a woman named Angela Thomas. I think I cried through nearly every page. Almost the entire thing sounded as though she were speaking specifically to me. I like to think she was. I strongly encourage any woman who comes across this book to please read it. I understand much about myself, thanks to this book. But an idea found its way from my heart into my brain, and I decided that livejournal was a decent, if not perfect, tool. Because of that, I'm using the one livejournal that is true to me, the one I have used and loved and trusted for oh, a good three years, now. My idea? To come clean. To lay it all out, for God and everyone to see. I may know you, I may not. You might decide to read, you might decide to scroll over it. It doesn't matter. I don’t really care. I'm just going to say all that I have to say.
The past two years have been…what they have been. The months hurried along; they came and they went as if they never were at all. 2004 began with an anticipation I’d never known before. I thought I had everything figured out, I thought I had it all planned and proofed and, well, safe. And then it all began to unravel. The “everything” that I had become so comfortable with suddenly went for an unbelievable turn. I lost my best friend the first month. And that was only the beginning.
The following month marked the most important month of my life. It once held countless memories that have now been shoved so far into my mind that I don’t even realize they are there, most of the time. The more that time passed away, the more insecure I became. Things were changing. It was barely there, at first. A hint of sorrow, a glimpse of despair…and then it started to mutate. It became more and more evident as the days pressed on. Uncertainty became doubt. Doubt became fear. Fear turned into pain. I sat back and watched as the life I loved so much fell to pieces. I sat back and watched, barely blinking, always wondering, “is this going to last forever..?”
I left for Italy on May 17, 2004. With a broken heart and a stitched-up abdomen, I flew thousands of miles to a place I had never known, and never really wanted to be. I wanted to be with my brother. That’s the only reason I even left. I could sense the events to come sneaking up behind me. I kept thinking I should turn back. I even asked if it was a good idea. But I couldn’t do that to my brother. So there I was. And I was miserable. No one could ever understand what miserable means until you find yourself in that position. The months literally dragged on, and they took me with them. I wrote entries in my journal to sound like everything was okay. I lied. I lied so much. I lied about a lot of things. I lied to avoid hurting the feelings of others. I lied so that I wouldn’t have to tell the truth. I lied because I didn’t know what else to do. I lied so much that I forgot what the truth really was. I lied so much that I eventually had to lie to myself. I lied so much that my lies became my truth. Confusion.
I forgot about my life back home. I forgot about the things I loved, because I knew, just KNEW that they had all forgotten me. For the most part, I still think that’s true.
So I used the last month or so in Italy getting over it. And I did. I got over it. In Italy.
August 02, 2004: My plane arrived at the airport in Nashville well after midnight. I had spent the 24 hours prior to that chewing off the fingernails I hadn’t bitten in three months. I listened to the same song on repeat, nothing more. I cried. I spilled coffee all over my lap. I didn’t eat. “Courage, courage, courage,” I kept telling myself. Courage for what? I still don’t know. I talked for hours about how I felt. It didn’t fly. I was sneaky. I was confused. I was …
I saw Brandon the following evening. I told him I loved him, and he reciprocated. I broke my engagement with Chris that night. I didn’t cry. I figured out later on that I didn’t cry because I didn’t realize. We all figured out that I didn’t realize. I hurt Chris. I hurt Brandon. And then I found myself in a position I never would have imagined just a few months earlier. It was so horribly painful. It was like nothing I’ve ever felt before, but it’s a feeling that never really leaves. I wanted to die. Would have, had I had the guts. I tried. I thought of many things. I cut my arms and kicked and screamed and cried because I just didn’t have the courage. I couldn’t do it, and I wanted to so bad. I hated myself for who I was, what I was doing, and the fact that I couldn’t just end it. I couldn’t just end the pain. I couldn’t stop hurting, no matter what I tried, I had gotten myself in the worst place imaginable. I was so confused. I hadn’t given any of us enough time to evaluate the situation. I was dishonest, and because of my dishonesty, I destroyed the biggest part of me. Triangle. Make a choice. And live it. Brandon.
I chose Brandon. It wasn’t long until I moved in with him. I was happy. I was in love. It was great. And so it goes. We “broke up” so many times I’m not even really sure if I can count. Awful things were said. Fights were fought that I had no idea were coming. I, to this day, don’t think anyone could possibly hurt me as much as he has. But I forget it. I look over it. I try so hard to pretend that it never happened. He loves me, then he doesn’t. He needs me, then he can’t stand to look at me. And then I became to him, what he was to me. I hardened my heart to him. I did things to try and hurt him. I wanted to hurt him. Sometimes, I wanted to physically hurt him. Sometimes, I would revert back to the first time I felt that “feeling,” where I just wanted to die. Again and again, I tried. But again and again, I was too weak to go through with it. The scars are only noticeable in a certain light. I seriously was too weenie to go very deep at all. But the feeling was deeper than any physical wound could ever be. The feeling is relentless. The feeling will never stop. I think it is too late for that, now. I guess I won’t know until I know. Anyway, things have been constantly fluctuating for us. One day, we’ll be like peas & carrots. The next day, it’s like “The War of the Roses.” Have you seen that movie? If not, don’t worry about it. And so it goes. Right now, I’m not even sure what we are. As usual. Not to attack. I NEVER want to attack. I’m not innocent in any of this, and that’s the whole point. I’m getting it out. I’m letting it loose. I haven’t had a friend in over a year. So this is all I’ve got. And I’m taking my chances with the outcome. But back to my story, I don’t know where I stand. I think we’re ‘just friends.’ But how exactly does that work? Never could figure that one out. I love Brandon. I have fought long and hard. But I still lie. I still cover my truth with what might make someone else happy. I am still guilty. I am still afraid. I am still confused. I constantly think I know what I want, and then it's all thrown up in my face. I have consistent, haunting dreams nearly every night. They bring me to question my so-called reality. They bring me to wonder if I really even know who I am. All I truly, deeply know about myself is the love I have for my God, and the love He has for me. I don't know where 'life' will take me, but as long as I don't lose sight of my Father, I know I'll get through it. In all honesty, I just want to go to Him. Like I said before, I don't have any friends. There are people I used to know that like to indulge me every so often into believing that they care, but do they? I don't think so. And that's okay. Besides, I don't think I would really know what to say to anyone anymore.
I just don't want to feel that feeling anymore. That's the point in this. I wanted it out. Sure, that's just a brief summary compared to what it is really like, but it's a start. I want it to be over. I want to be free.
Life continues to grow and take new form. Often, it assumes the form of what once was, leaving me to wonder the difference between reality and illusion. Once that thought enters my brain, it sprouts into questions and theories on the association of dreams, illusion, & reality, and I get lost in a world where there is no distinction. The floor increases and swallows me up as I rave in my mind about color and shape. The constant spiral, the unending twists and turns of this beautiful, horrible process we all refer to as 'living'. Time moves forward, alwaysalwaysalways forward, showing no concern and no mercy. I often find myself condemning it. Time seems to have a mind of its own in my life; He laughs and points and provokes. Because of this, I feel the inescapable urge to fight it,
to own it, to defeat it as it has, thus far, defeated me. Don't get me wrong: I am hopeful as usual, expecting the unexpected, and it expecting it to be 'good',
even if it is 'bad'. I have high hopes. My aspirations and dreams are often intimidating, but I have faith in overcoming my fears.
I recently finished a book titled, "Do You Think I'm Beautiful?" written by a woman named Angela Thomas. I think I cried through nearly every page. Almost the entire thing sounded as though she were speaking specifically to me. I like to think she was. I strongly encourage any woman who comes across this book to please read it. I understand much about myself, thanks to this book. But an idea found its way from my heart into my brain, and I decided that livejournal was a decent, if not perfect, tool. Because of that, I'm using the one livejournal that is true to me, the one I have used and loved and trusted for oh, a good three years, now. My idea? To come clean. To lay it all out, for God and everyone to see. I may know you, I may not. You might decide to read, you might decide to scroll over it. It doesn't matter. I don’t really care. I'm just going to say all that I have to say.
The past two years have been…what they have been. The months hurried along; they came and they went as if they never were at all. 2004 began with an anticipation I’d never known before. I thought I had everything figured out, I thought I had it all planned and proofed and, well, safe. And then it all began to unravel. The “everything” that I had become so comfortable with suddenly went for an unbelievable turn. I lost my best friend the first month. And that was only the beginning.
The following month marked the most important month of my life. It once held countless memories that have now been shoved so far into my mind that I don’t even realize they are there, most of the time. The more that time passed away, the more insecure I became. Things were changing. It was barely there, at first. A hint of sorrow, a glimpse of despair…and then it started to mutate. It became more and more evident as the days pressed on. Uncertainty became doubt. Doubt became fear. Fear turned into pain. I sat back and watched as the life I loved so much fell to pieces. I sat back and watched, barely blinking, always wondering, “is this going to last forever..?”
I left for Italy on May 17, 2004. With a broken heart and a stitched-up abdomen, I flew thousands of miles to a place I had never known, and never really wanted to be. I wanted to be with my brother. That’s the only reason I even left. I could sense the events to come sneaking up behind me. I kept thinking I should turn back. I even asked if it was a good idea. But I couldn’t do that to my brother. So there I was. And I was miserable. No one could ever understand what miserable means until you find yourself in that position. The months literally dragged on, and they took me with them. I wrote entries in my journal to sound like everything was okay. I lied. I lied so much. I lied about a lot of things. I lied to avoid hurting the feelings of others. I lied so that I wouldn’t have to tell the truth. I lied because I didn’t know what else to do. I lied so much that I forgot what the truth really was. I lied so much that I eventually had to lie to myself. I lied so much that my lies became my truth. Confusion.
I forgot about my life back home. I forgot about the things I loved, because I knew, just KNEW that they had all forgotten me. For the most part, I still think that’s true.
So I used the last month or so in Italy getting over it. And I did. I got over it. In Italy.
August 02, 2004: My plane arrived at the airport in Nashville well after midnight. I had spent the 24 hours prior to that chewing off the fingernails I hadn’t bitten in three months. I listened to the same song on repeat, nothing more. I cried. I spilled coffee all over my lap. I didn’t eat. “Courage, courage, courage,” I kept telling myself. Courage for what? I still don’t know. I talked for hours about how I felt. It didn’t fly. I was sneaky. I was confused. I was …
I saw Brandon the following evening. I told him I loved him, and he reciprocated. I broke my engagement with Chris that night. I didn’t cry. I figured out later on that I didn’t cry because I didn’t realize. We all figured out that I didn’t realize. I hurt Chris. I hurt Brandon. And then I found myself in a position I never would have imagined just a few months earlier. It was so horribly painful. It was like nothing I’ve ever felt before, but it’s a feeling that never really leaves. I wanted to die. Would have, had I had the guts. I tried. I thought of many things. I cut my arms and kicked and screamed and cried because I just didn’t have the courage. I couldn’t do it, and I wanted to so bad. I hated myself for who I was, what I was doing, and the fact that I couldn’t just end it. I couldn’t just end the pain. I couldn’t stop hurting, no matter what I tried, I had gotten myself in the worst place imaginable. I was so confused. I hadn’t given any of us enough time to evaluate the situation. I was dishonest, and because of my dishonesty, I destroyed the biggest part of me. Triangle. Make a choice. And live it. Brandon.
I chose Brandon. It wasn’t long until I moved in with him. I was happy. I was in love. It was great. And so it goes. We “broke up” so many times I’m not even really sure if I can count. Awful things were said. Fights were fought that I had no idea were coming. I, to this day, don’t think anyone could possibly hurt me as much as he has. But I forget it. I look over it. I try so hard to pretend that it never happened. He loves me, then he doesn’t. He needs me, then he can’t stand to look at me. And then I became to him, what he was to me. I hardened my heart to him. I did things to try and hurt him. I wanted to hurt him. Sometimes, I wanted to physically hurt him. Sometimes, I would revert back to the first time I felt that “feeling,” where I just wanted to die. Again and again, I tried. But again and again, I was too weak to go through with it. The scars are only noticeable in a certain light. I seriously was too weenie to go very deep at all. But the feeling was deeper than any physical wound could ever be. The feeling is relentless. The feeling will never stop. I think it is too late for that, now. I guess I won’t know until I know. Anyway, things have been constantly fluctuating for us. One day, we’ll be like peas & carrots. The next day, it’s like “The War of the Roses.” Have you seen that movie? If not, don’t worry about it. And so it goes. Right now, I’m not even sure what we are. As usual. Not to attack. I NEVER want to attack. I’m not innocent in any of this, and that’s the whole point. I’m getting it out. I’m letting it loose. I haven’t had a friend in over a year. So this is all I’ve got. And I’m taking my chances with the outcome. But back to my story, I don’t know where I stand. I think we’re ‘just friends.’ But how exactly does that work? Never could figure that one out. I love Brandon. I have fought long and hard. But I still lie. I still cover my truth with what might make someone else happy. I am still guilty. I am still afraid. I am still confused. I constantly think I know what I want, and then it's all thrown up in my face. I have consistent, haunting dreams nearly every night. They bring me to question my so-called reality. They bring me to wonder if I really even know who I am. All I truly, deeply know about myself is the love I have for my God, and the love He has for me. I don't know where 'life' will take me, but as long as I don't lose sight of my Father, I know I'll get through it. In all honesty, I just want to go to Him. Like I said before, I don't have any friends. There are people I used to know that like to indulge me every so often into believing that they care, but do they? I don't think so. And that's okay. Besides, I don't think I would really know what to say to anyone anymore.
I just don't want to feel that feeling anymore. That's the point in this. I wanted it out. Sure, that's just a brief summary compared to what it is really like, but it's a start. I want it to be over. I want to be free.