(no subject)
I'm supposed to be sleeping...but I can't...for more than one reason.
I think I have too many things going on in my head.
I bought a fucking dr. Phil book today. I felt pathetic in the self-help aisle, but at least I wasn't buying "How to Win Friends and Influence People" or something that ridiculous. If only I could afford a therapist...I wouldn't have to go through this public humiliation. I couldn't look the sales girl in the face. Oh well. At least I'm trying to be productive.
I need this vacation. I need Arizona. A place where I feel like I can at least breathe. At least, if I remember correctly. I'm tried of drowning in cement and mortar block. Time for some cacti and a western sky. There are times here when the sky looks almost western...I guess you could call it midwestern....but it just teases me. Just reminds me that I'm not there, that I can't breathe, and that I'm so tired of my life right now. I need a week off just to breathe. Although I have a feeling I will miss the smoke.
It's all my fault. I am responsible for my current life situation. I have control over the way I act and react. But what do I do with the pain? What do I do when I'm hurting so much I can hardly stand up under the weight of my heart? I have no control over what is causing me pain, and I don't see the end of this pain coming any time soon, if ever. Why are we so incompatable in this way? Why is it that this fact hurts me more than I've ever been hurt in my life? This span of three weeks must be quite a relief for you. Dr. Phil can talk all he wants about my control over the situation but this is something I have no control over. I can rationalize and no that it has no real reflection on me...but that doesn't stop it from hurting. It doesn't stop me from crying silently in your arms while you don't even notice anymore. This is probably because it is now an every night occurrence. And you're so tired....always so tired. At least that is always your chosen excuse. It's easier that way. It's not any easier for me. I know you say you're working on it, that you're being productive in your own way, but, per usual, I don't believe you. I don't believe you becaues you don't tell me anything about it. Because you don't tell me much about anything anymore.
"How long has it been since I was able to curl up in my mother's lap and know that I didn't have to be afraid?"
I think I have too many things going on in my head.
I bought a fucking dr. Phil book today. I felt pathetic in the self-help aisle, but at least I wasn't buying "How to Win Friends and Influence People" or something that ridiculous. If only I could afford a therapist...I wouldn't have to go through this public humiliation. I couldn't look the sales girl in the face. Oh well. At least I'm trying to be productive.
I need this vacation. I need Arizona. A place where I feel like I can at least breathe. At least, if I remember correctly. I'm tried of drowning in cement and mortar block. Time for some cacti and a western sky. There are times here when the sky looks almost western...I guess you could call it midwestern....but it just teases me. Just reminds me that I'm not there, that I can't breathe, and that I'm so tired of my life right now. I need a week off just to breathe. Although I have a feeling I will miss the smoke.
It's all my fault. I am responsible for my current life situation. I have control over the way I act and react. But what do I do with the pain? What do I do when I'm hurting so much I can hardly stand up under the weight of my heart? I have no control over what is causing me pain, and I don't see the end of this pain coming any time soon, if ever. Why are we so incompatable in this way? Why is it that this fact hurts me more than I've ever been hurt in my life? This span of three weeks must be quite a relief for you. Dr. Phil can talk all he wants about my control over the situation but this is something I have no control over. I can rationalize and no that it has no real reflection on me...but that doesn't stop it from hurting. It doesn't stop me from crying silently in your arms while you don't even notice anymore. This is probably because it is now an every night occurrence. And you're so tired....always so tired. At least that is always your chosen excuse. It's easier that way. It's not any easier for me. I know you say you're working on it, that you're being productive in your own way, but, per usual, I don't believe you. I don't believe you becaues you don't tell me anything about it. Because you don't tell me much about anything anymore.
"How long has it been since I was able to curl up in my mother's lap and know that I didn't have to be afraid?"