Do I know myself?

No.

Do I hate myself?

I try not to. 

Do I love myself?

I'm working on it.

I think I do.

I feel like there's a small part of me that doesn't

A small part of me that's scared.

Scared of what? 

Everything. 

It's all too much.

My grip is loose. 

Reality has me in a noose. 

It's slowly showing me how I did it myself. 

Even though it doesn't make sense unless you can see the bigger picture. 

But everything is getting better.

I think everything is getting better.

I'm not sure if anything is gonna get better.

Sometimes I feel like I'm floating in the clouds.

Sometimes it feels like I'm grounded and free.

Sometimes I feel like someone left me 6 ft deep.

Can anybody hear me. 

I'm pounding on the door.

I wanted to be seen

but no one to see my dirty floor. 

To see my dirty heart.

All dusty and cracked. 

To see how forgotten she's been. 

And the scrapes from crawling back. 

Crawling out from the hole.

6ft deep.

Exhausted

I'm exhausted. 

Exhausted because I can't make up my mind on being with someone for the rest of my life or not. Which us probably a sign on its own the relationship should end. But it's not that easy. It's never easy. 

Exhausted from trying to figure out how to be a parent. It's such a big responsibility.  I feel like im fucking it up. I feel like I wasn't ready. Is anybody ever ready?

Exhausted by the people around me. Not because of them, but because of the expectations I think they have of me. Which is a silly thing to give the time of day. 

Exhausted with myself. Why can't I just get it right? Why can't I be better. I should know better. 

I consciously try to remind myself to listen to my heart instead of my head. It's been so long It's hard to remember what that feels like. She's been alone for so long I don't know if she feels like sharing. When did we disconnect? When did I stop listening. She now speaks a language I am not fluent in. 

I'm barely holding on. 

I'm trying my best. 

I need to not trust everything my mind tells me. 

But then how do I make any decisions?

I DONT UNDERSTAND!

The Pit

I feel myself on the precipice in my mind.

So many emotions and thoughts swirling around. 

And then the quiet depths. 

A pit of blackness that now draws me in.

Im starting to miss it when I'm actually present. 

The peaceful freefall into nothingness.

Life is discouraging. 

I guess that how you know you're moving forward,

But it feels like such a big step backwards. 

I need to stay strong. 

My strength and will is the only thing keeping me alive. 

I must keep pushing onward.

Heart Dump

 My baby is growing. He's 25 months now. He's talking, he's playing, he's saying no. I try to get him outside at least once a day if not twice. But I still feel like I lacked in some way for him that day. I've struggled with being present with him, but its something i've really been working on, and it has been getting better. Even so I feel there's some sort of itch he has that he can't voice, and I have yet to find it. Or it's in a different spot everyday. Who knows. I'm trying. I care. I just hope that's enough. 

I talked to one of my best friends for the first time in a long time tonight. It was good. I always like talking to him cuz I feel so comfortable around him. (Until after our conversation and I start to feel insecure and overanalyze) Things are changing. He's busy more. Has a girlfriend in his life he's pretty sure he's marrying. We're growing apart and I hate it. That's life though. People come and go. Sometimes they come back. Sometimes they don't. They always leave again tho. Somehow. Can't dwell on the inevitable. It will only drive you crazy. 

My other best friend I haven't talked to in an actually long time. I don't know how she feels about me. I lent her some money she hasn't been able to pay back. Honestly I don't even care about the money. It seemed from the outside like her world was falling apart, and I just wanted to be there for her. I should've been there for her. But with a kid, and the father of my child who cares a whole lot about money took the priority, and instead I was asking her for the money back. Adding to the problem. At least that's how it felt for me. Now we don't talk. She hasn't opened my messages in months. All I want to know is if she's okay. I don't care about the money. I just want to say I'm sorry, and I miss her. 

Me? I'm doing okay. I'm figuring things out, and reminding myself to stay strong. Reminding myself what's important in life. I hope I make it through okay. Right now though I just need to worry about making it through the day. 

And we're back

 Funny how I find this blog again right when i'm finally feeling myself again. 

3 years. For three years I've felt everything and nothing. 

But I gotta be honest it's been longer than that. 

7 years. 

7 fucking years since i've written. 

7 years since i've felt something strong enough to write about it. 

Got caught up in a relationship and didn't let it die. 

Until it killed me. 

Until it made new life. 

And here we are. With everything I need and everything I need to work through on my shoulders. At least they're lighter than they have been in a long time. 

I'm back. 

I'm here to write.

But most importantly I'm here to find my heart again. 

Here to find the fire I once had inside me. 

The independent bitch who didn't give a fuck. The girl who laughed when people called her stupid, because she knew the truth. 

It's harder finding your way when the only person you have to talk to is your brain. 

My brain hates me. 

That one thing I'm now sure of. 

It feels good. 

It feels good to be back.

We're all alive. Though we're searching for an apocalypse.

There is nothing more irritating than forgetting how to write.
Hell, I went to Europe for two months,
History at my fingertips constantly,
And I didn't write a single word.

Guys.

It's easy to forget who you are.

I don't even know if I like writing anymore.
But maybe I shouldn't be thinking about that.
Maybe I should appreciate what I've absorbed instead.
I don't have anything on paper for proof.
But I've changed.

I realize new things every day.

And today?
I figured out something I should try to do more in my life

Make people realize they're alive. 

Remind them what living means. 

We are not on this Earth to make money, live an everyday routine, regret, or focus on the pain.

Yes, it's hard not to notice all the pain.

But that's not all that's there.

We have to believe that.

We have to remember. 



I've become pretty selfish by trying not to care what people think.
Always having a bitter taste in my brain.
I'm trying to forget.
Distracting myself from the world instead of trying to help it.

I could become vegan.
Volunteer and help people.
But I like ice cream and meat,
And I need money for college.

Shit.



But hey,
If you're reading this,
Just take one thing from it.
Remember what living means.
And make sure you're feeling that every day.

This is it.

You know no matter how many lasts we are experiencing in these final weeks of high school.
No matter the people we'll never see.
The teachers we'll never learn from.
The strangers we'll never judge.
I bet you anything the majority of us will wake up Saturday morning and go about our lives like nothing ever happened.

I mean we are only one day older than the last.
One hour more tired.
One minute less memorable.
One second closer to death.

Paris was great.
Neverland was a dream.
Home's heart gained some weight.

We walk these halls everyday, and yet all of us will hear one name, see one person walk, that we had no idea went to this school.

But no matter the cliques,
The hate,
The lies,
The egos,
The tears,
The scars.
The graduating class of 2016 will all breathe as one as we all stand and move our tassels like we have gained some sort of knighthood for turning our papers in on time.

I don't know about you, but for me it's so much more than that. Walking on that carpet and shaking hands with people you barely talked to. I'm doing that because I fucking made it.
I made it through every late paper.
Every teachers pair of eyes in the back of their heads.
Every suicide.
Every fight with parents or friends.
Every time where my heart was heavier than my textbooks.
And after that.
I woke up.
Got ready.
And went to school.
And I bet you I smiled at least once everyday I was in those halls.

My beginning at Lone Peak was bathroom stalls and knowing people by their shoes.
My rising action was facing a tidal wave while holding one hand.
My end is a confused head held high.

Now let's all move on and slowly forget.
Let's embrace our briefcases and hang our selves with our ties.
Let's wither away and become our parents.

But always remember that green is not a creative color.