(no subject)
I'm not as brave as you probably think I am.
I'm not strong and I pretend too much. I pretend I have pride, I pretend I'm something more, that I'm fearless, I don't need anyone. I pretend that I'm happy, that I'm okay, that things aren't constantly falling apart, that a small part of me isn't always afraid. I think all that is a part of being human, growing up when you don't want to with circumstances you don't really understand. But I look at you and you are brave. You are strong. You're everything I'm not that I'm trying to be.
Most of the time, I feel I don't even really know who I am. All the things I seem to be, good and bad, are merely fragments of other people, parts that they've discarded because they no longer need them, no longer need the infection and grit and outrage. Maybe I'm even some tiny part of you, your anger or your wistfulness or the way you brush your hair off your face. Maybe I have your eyes and your disregard for anything permanent. Maybe I'm just you, a little younger and a little more angry but better at hiding it.
It's why I'm so bitter and lonely, why I'm always pushing you away; I don't want to be you, I don't want to make the mistakes you have. I feel lost a lot of the time, like you can just strip away everything that makes me human, that makes me an individual worth knowing. The pretty words, the pretty smile. What's left after that? Disappointment and rage and inadequacy. I'm not good enough, I've never been good enough, but I don't know how to be anything else.
I think that my biggest fear is that right now will turn into forever. That I'll always be trapped in a situation that I can't escape no matter how much I want to because I'm not brave enough to try. I always say it will get better, it'll be different after you apologize one more time, but it never changes, you never change. I'm afraid I'll never get away from you, from this, from always being what other people expect. I'm afraid I'll never be my own person, that I'll never stand on my own, that I'll never have to stand on my own because you always want to be there, sliding between my feet and getting in the way.
You'll never accept it, but I'm angry. I'm upset. I feel betrayed and hurt and lost. You think I'm being a silly little girl, ridiculous, unjustified, and maybe I am. Maybe that's all I know how to be because it's all you've ever let me be.
I don't remember everything I said the other night, even though I probably should, those things I've had festering in my heart for years. I don't even really remember what happened, not the words, just how it felt, the disappointment and the tears and breaking my own heart. I can't remember a time before your name, your breath, before you glued me to saran wrap. I tear so messily that I always end up coming back. I'm always afraid of ripping in half, my intestines spilling out when you're not paying attention. My heart breaking because no one cares.
I keep you at a distance and you never seem to realise because I wrap myself around you and I whisper promises in your ear. I never tell you any of the thousand little things that mean something to me, written words and hope and careful choices; I don't even want to. I want to keep them close, horde them, never tell a soul because I've never wanted to share anything, especially not with you.
I wish I weren't so meek, that I didn't keep so many different things inside and only say them when I'm pretending, when I'm hiding behind something else. I wish that I didn't give up so easily, that I could stand up for myself, that I could try a little bit harder. I wish I weren't so cautious, that I didn't weigh every little thing and guilt about the things I don't choose.
I wish I didn't have to choose you.
*
Sometimes I have trouble separating what I'm feeling and what is fiction. I wonder how many people will think this entry is just part of my novel and how many people will think this had something to do with my hiatus. I wonder if anyone is going to write me a letter back, click anonymous and tell me a secret, tell me what makes them feel weak. I wonder if you're going to share something with me, some part you keep hidden from my eyes because you're afraid too. It's okay, we're all afraid for different reasons, we all stay because we can't leave. We're all a little messy.
I'll try for something less vague tomorrow.
I'm not strong and I pretend too much. I pretend I have pride, I pretend I'm something more, that I'm fearless, I don't need anyone. I pretend that I'm happy, that I'm okay, that things aren't constantly falling apart, that a small part of me isn't always afraid. I think all that is a part of being human, growing up when you don't want to with circumstances you don't really understand. But I look at you and you are brave. You are strong. You're everything I'm not that I'm trying to be.
Most of the time, I feel I don't even really know who I am. All the things I seem to be, good and bad, are merely fragments of other people, parts that they've discarded because they no longer need them, no longer need the infection and grit and outrage. Maybe I'm even some tiny part of you, your anger or your wistfulness or the way you brush your hair off your face. Maybe I have your eyes and your disregard for anything permanent. Maybe I'm just you, a little younger and a little more angry but better at hiding it.
It's why I'm so bitter and lonely, why I'm always pushing you away; I don't want to be you, I don't want to make the mistakes you have. I feel lost a lot of the time, like you can just strip away everything that makes me human, that makes me an individual worth knowing. The pretty words, the pretty smile. What's left after that? Disappointment and rage and inadequacy. I'm not good enough, I've never been good enough, but I don't know how to be anything else.
I think that my biggest fear is that right now will turn into forever. That I'll always be trapped in a situation that I can't escape no matter how much I want to because I'm not brave enough to try. I always say it will get better, it'll be different after you apologize one more time, but it never changes, you never change. I'm afraid I'll never get away from you, from this, from always being what other people expect. I'm afraid I'll never be my own person, that I'll never stand on my own, that I'll never have to stand on my own because you always want to be there, sliding between my feet and getting in the way.
You'll never accept it, but I'm angry. I'm upset. I feel betrayed and hurt and lost. You think I'm being a silly little girl, ridiculous, unjustified, and maybe I am. Maybe that's all I know how to be because it's all you've ever let me be.
I don't remember everything I said the other night, even though I probably should, those things I've had festering in my heart for years. I don't even really remember what happened, not the words, just how it felt, the disappointment and the tears and breaking my own heart. I can't remember a time before your name, your breath, before you glued me to saran wrap. I tear so messily that I always end up coming back. I'm always afraid of ripping in half, my intestines spilling out when you're not paying attention. My heart breaking because no one cares.
I keep you at a distance and you never seem to realise because I wrap myself around you and I whisper promises in your ear. I never tell you any of the thousand little things that mean something to me, written words and hope and careful choices; I don't even want to. I want to keep them close, horde them, never tell a soul because I've never wanted to share anything, especially not with you.
I wish I weren't so meek, that I didn't keep so many different things inside and only say them when I'm pretending, when I'm hiding behind something else. I wish that I didn't give up so easily, that I could stand up for myself, that I could try a little bit harder. I wish I weren't so cautious, that I didn't weigh every little thing and guilt about the things I don't choose.
I wish I didn't have to choose you.
*
Sometimes I have trouble separating what I'm feeling and what is fiction. I wonder how many people will think this entry is just part of my novel and how many people will think this had something to do with my hiatus. I wonder if anyone is going to write me a letter back, click anonymous and tell me a secret, tell me what makes them feel weak. I wonder if you're going to share something with me, some part you keep hidden from my eyes because you're afraid too. It's okay, we're all afraid for different reasons, we all stay because we can't leave. We're all a little messy.
I'll try for something less vague tomorrow.