I just can't.

I'm trying to take deep breaths but I'm shaking and I'm shaking and I just can't (breathe?). Outstretched hands in front of me, quivering. This is why I hate my name and the price that comes with it. The curse of knowing the future and not being able to stop the cracks in the pavement. Have I ever told you about this? No, of course not. I seem crazy. Hand shaking, skittering. Crazy. My breath shudders because what else is there to do. I am stuck in a loop, taking the first bite of an apple over and over again but never the last licking of lips. Never the satisfaction. It's a sore feeling I get in my kneecaps every time, the memory of sprinting until they knock together and my whole body folding in half. I am nothing more than fabric in the wind, the catching of the sunlight in what is left of your broken glass. There is the cut from the glass from the dream I once had, and you lay among it all, sweet syruped lies dripping from your lips. How many times did you tell me it would all be okay? Could you stop time to stop the itching in my bones? Can we keep the glass from dropping? Because no one should be crying over spilled milk, but here I am ripping my guts out of my stomach to show them to an anonymous source. And I'm pretty sure this nightmare is the worst of all, shadowy hands reaching away from my body, to grab what I can only hope is mine. Something other than my intestines, a noose wrapped softly along my neck taking place of the fingerprints and kisses you once left. You're gone. I've shot up, eclipses instead of eyes, and there are the withered tears again. It's not spilled milk I'm crying over, it's not. I just can't bring myself to breathe, so instead I heave, and cough up the glass I choked down. There is a whisper wrapping around my soul, and I'm praying it crushes me before my vision becomes whole. Maybe I should have gouged my eyes out before the feeling of my heart pounding against my chest stopped me in my tracks. Here I am frozen, watching the same moment over and over again. The pure white snow covering up the pain that your tracks made. The tracks being made again, and the snowflakes falling again, and the dancing and the same moment over and over again. I don't want to watch you leave, but there are your tracks walking away from me. And there is the snow. I don't want you to go.

Thoughts about you.

This morning after my terrible sickness and you comforting me, you were dozing slightly, your blue eyes opening and shutting every once and a while. I loved your groggy face and rubbing your back and making you feel better because, let's face it, we both felt like shit. When you were just beginning to stir, thoughts were running through my mind and their were so many things I wanted to say to you. I just... I get scared sometimes because the act of saying them out loud.... Is me admitting how true they are.
But I planned it all out in my head, this is what I wanted to tell you:
I love you in the least infinite, romanticized, idealized way possible. I simply love you in this moment, I love the essence of you and your existence. I love your tired eyes and crooked smile. The way you laugh with your whole being and your unique way of viewing the word. In this moment, I want nothing more than to crawl into your arms and feel you squeeze me. I love when you wrap your whole body around me and nuzzle my neck and tell me I'm yours. I miss your lips, Jack. I miss cupping your face in my hands and pulling you towards me. I love the way our bodies dance and our words entangle as we taunt each other. You fill my heart with joy and you bring out the best of me. I'm not saying I love you forever, or that I love you the same way a couple getting married does, but that I love you right now, right here, in this exact moment. You're perfect to me as you are and I love existing with you.

But something else has been plaguing my mind a lot recently. Not from the morning, but... In general, and... I'm so scared to say it out loud to you. I don't fit into your life, Sweet Tea. That's what I've realized. I feel so out of place when I'm with your friends. I don't know I just don't fit. I can't even go into in detail here, because I'm terrified. I wish you'd come over right now and get this out of me because I want to pour my heart out to you. I want to tell you this so we can fix it, I'm just so scared. And I feel so insignificant to you. I guess I want you to make an effort to fit me into your life or something. I don't know. I love losing time with you in your room. I love kissing your skin and making you smile. I love cuddling and talking with our bodies. But in some ways I want more. I want to go on a date with you and I want you to show me off to your friends, instead of me just sitting on the couch while you socialize. I get shy. And you always just introduce me by my name, never really bothering to tell people I'm your girlfriend. Which I completely understand. You shouldn't have to tell people we're dating, but... I want to be the girlfriend you adore not just in private. And yes, we cuddle on the couch in front of everyone. There's that, among other things. But I've started to feel disconnected from others. That's exactly it - I feel out of place with your friends and as though I just don't fit into your life. I want to be a part of your whole life.

To state it more positively: I want to be a part of your whole life. I want to get to know you more and more every day, I want to mean something to you. You know? Because you're a part of my life and you mean something to me and I adore you.




And ps - I feel bad saying this stuff because sometimes (most of the time) I feel as though I have no friends. You have your friends and I don't want to take that away from you. You deserve guy time and stuff, I just wish I had friends to spend time with while you hang out with your friends. You know? Fuck. I'm sorry for being so bad at this.

I'm crying harder

I'm crying harder and I hate when you don't say good night. I hate when any conversation is left hanging in the air. Good nights are so significant because they aren't forever, they aren't for long. Good byes, farewells.... They have too much weight. So much that it worries me. Good nights are simple and sweet and meant for safe and happy dreams. They're almost a promise to speak again.

I don't even know what I'm saying but I'm crying harder and I don't know what to do with myself.

Core

I just received a letter I wrote to myself over the summer, while on a mission trip. I don't know if this sounds incredibly selfish or whatnot, but I wrote about how I need to learn to appreciate myself. That's one of the things everyone told me that week: to appreciate myself, that I don't appreciate myself enough.
So here I am, sitting in bed, in New Jersey, trying to appreciate myself. And I can't do it. I can't fucking do it. I got back here Thursday night. I don't call this place home. Colorado is my home. My mom has already spent two days yelling at me. To an extreme amount. How can I appreciate myself? She makes it clear that I take things for granted, she says that I think I deserve better than everyone else, she tells me that I don't do enough for our family.
I try so hard, but clearly my efforts are fruitless. I don't even know what to do with myself at this point, I'm stuck here for another three weeks. I just want to go home, home to Colorado. At the end of this trip I plan on threatening to not come back. I could find a job in Colorado or go home with a friend, I don't care. Honestly, I'd do anything to not be back here. They make me feel worthless. I try so hard and they make me feel like dirt or less than that even.
Sometimes I feel like I'm the core of the earth. So much is on my shoulders, practically everything, yet everyone tends to forget about the effort I put in.
Yesterday night my mom threw a fit at me. I got home from a casual coffee evening with two friends, came in the house, and went to my room. And suddenly there was my mom, shrilling. Her rude words pierced the darkness, I had yet to even turn on a light. "You slammed the door! Veronica's sick and asleep and you woke her up!" or something along those lines. It's gotten to the point where she sounds like a siren, the words lose their weight and she's just sound, going off at me every chance she gets. I knew I hadn't slammed a door but I accepted it and moved on. This morning my sister revealed that my mom's screaming had woken up. Well great, her waking up wasn't my fault, but my mom's screaming was still my fault.
Then this morning my mom asked me when I was going to get my hair cut. I was excited and said after we eat. This was less than fifteen minutes ago. She pulled out a coupon for Supercuts and told me I was going to pay for my hair cut. It's been almost eight months since I've gotten my hair cut, and yes, I was a bit upset that I had downgraded to Supercuts. My hair is a mess and I don't know how to take care of it and I wanted a good hair cut. So maybe I acted a bit childish saying that, but hey, if I'm going to pay for my hair cut, shouldn't I have a say in where I get it done? To which my head proceeded to explode from the sound that escaped her lips. "You're not an adult! You're not better than everyone else!" Thank you, mother... I do happen to be eighteen and I never said I was. Once again the words jumble together. At moments like these, I've realized, it doesn't even matter what she says. I guess that's why I suck at writing dialogue and can't put conversations together to write a play. The words don't reach my ears, they only reach my body. They attack me and beat me till I cry. "You have no sense of money! You think you deserve everything! I spend so much money on you and you don't appreciate it at all!!" I spent $80 on my mom's Christmas present. I'm actually broke because I spent about $300 on Christmas presents, and I've been very conscious of my money since then. I promise whoever is bothering to read this whole load of depressing, I do appreciate everything my mother does. I try so hard to keep her happy. And yes, it was childish of me to "want more," or really to voice my want, but if she says I'm not an adult, why get mad when I'm being my apparently childish self? I don't know.

I just want my mom to be happy. But it's clear I don't do enough to make her so. At all. So, no, I don't appreciate myself. I doubt I ever will. But at the end of this break, if not sooner, I am threatening to never come back. I will figure out a way to pay for school (even though, hey, I'm emancipated! Paying for college all on my own, with my own money, except that I never see this money/have no control over it/it only pays housing and tuition so I have to buy everything else, even tampons and toothpaste, with my own money/my money could be gone at any minute) on my own. I got offered a scholarship and I dunno. I just can't do this anymore.
I can't take shutting myself in my room to cry. On a daily basis.
I don't even have a lock on my door, so anyone could waltz right in and laugh in my face.

Great. If I'm the core of such a beautiful planet, what happens when I'm gone. Does everything fall apart? (with my family, yes).



I want to go home.

repeating

so much shit going on in my head. i just want to escape with you.

I could be anyone

I could be anyone. The silent wind grazing your arms and sending shivers down your back, the sound of your pulsating heart throbbing, echoing inside your head, the bright green pencil the person who sits next to you uses every day. I could be anything. I could be envious... So I am. Every time I stand up no one looks my way. Am I a soulless body, dragging its self through the day? I put my tongue between my teeth and bite. Hard. What does it feel like to be real? I watch you slouch in your seat, your eyes fluttering, open and closed. You are the predictable book that I flip through, hardly bothering to even glance over the pictures. But I. I am the book that's never even left the shelf. Do you enjoy watching me collect dust? I swallow, the sound of your footsteps echo through the hollow hallways, passing through me as though I am dissolving into the sky.
"Who are you?" Your voice tries to coo calmly, but I can hear the desperation clinging in your throat. You're trying to claw your way out of this darkness, but do you really want to see the light? I told you that I could be anyone, I've laid my whole being for you and am now waiting, waiting for you to see what you've always seen, but a second time. And when I give you an answer, don't be afraid to meet me halfway, you are so close to escaping the poison of your own mind.
I can hear your heavy breath and I know the truth. I would tell you not to bother with the reverberation your words, but, "Who are-who are you?" they double over themselves too immediately to be heard distinctly. Do you feel me now? I could scratch open your chest, watch you heave as your secrets pour out, an unending tale of clandestine sin. And you, oh you, you thought you would win.
Have you ever come across a serpent devouring its own tail? I can tell you desire to make something of yourself. But what are willing to risk, would you eat your own tail for the chance of eternal life? Stop wringing your wrists and listen to me, listen to the world as you know you never have before.

Mise en abîme

This is called... I hate the way I let you do the things you do. I've been thinking about how to write this post for the past few days. And I was ready for bed more than two hours ago, trying to get to bed early, but had too much on my mind to even daydream of falling asleep at a reasonable hour. So here I am trying to let out all the things I want to say.
Did you know that I hate getting physically close to people? No, you didn't. I know you all think I love sex and use it as some form of a refugee (because I've gotten a comment about this). But actually, I'm not partaking in any kind of sexual acts. I'm abstinent. And it's because I've been raised to somehow be scared of it. To fear being intimate. Every time I try anything I feel terrible afterwards. (For the record, this has nothing to do with Faith or God. It's me and my image of myself.) I feel dirty. I feel slutty. I wish I could indulge but I can't. I never could. If I ever try, later that night it keeps me up and I just scream at myself in my head, over and over, "whore! whore!" It's funny because I know I'm not. I know kissing a boy isn't a terrible thing but I always feel as though it is. I always feel as though I'm breaking some unspoken, universal law. Thou shall not engage intimately with anyone. Is this my curse? An inability to let myself go and do what feels right in the moment? An inability to really let anyone in at all?
I'm a big flirt. I'll admit, I like the attention I receive from guys who are interested in me. It makes me feel wanted (at least physically wanted), which is something I've hardly ever felt. I always feel out of place. Always. With my "family", "friends", etc... I feel intellectually and emotionally off. I simply don't fit in. So I flirt to get attention that I feel I don't receive otherwise. But then I can't bring myself to follow through. For starters, I'm attracted to almost everyone when I first meet them. I love everything to at least a very tiny extent. I can honestly find love in everything. But the attraction always fades away, always. So I feel bad letting a boy get close to me, because what happens when it fades? I've been hurt and I don't want to hurt other people. I love the chase but once I get them, I'm bored. And I love being chased, but sure enough once they get me, they're bored as well. So sometimes I'll flirt with a guy that I'm genuinely interested in, get the chance to, you know, hook up with him, and turn him down because I don't want to feel slutty or like I could have hurt their feelings afterwards. Especially if there's drinking involved, I'd like to think that I'm worth more than a drunken hook up. Which is honestly silly because in some ways, I hate myself. In most ways. But still, let's pretend I think I'm worth more than a drunken hook up. I'm sure you're all wondering why I don't just get a boyfriend and feel wanted and be happy with my life. I can't help that I'm a silly adolescent with hormones and I don't want to be tied down to one person. I'm a freshman in college and I meet new people on a daily basis, I'm attracted to all these new people when I first meet them. Almost everyone I meet. There's something special about everyone, and I can find it. I'm not ready to settle down. Besides, it's so easy to get hurt in a relationship. If I have trouble being physically intimate with others, what are the chances of me being comfortable with emotional intimacy?
Hah.
Now to further explain myself, where I have been misunderstood... I received this comment:

I don't know you, I don't know your life, but I'm inclined to think that you're seeking strength in the wrong places. Namely, in other people instead of yourself (and, if you believe in that sort of thing, god). I have a challenge for you: celibacy for a year. For six months. For the rest of the semester. Whatever you choose. Challenge yourself. Cause I honestly believe the feeling of victory after you've fought your hardest is better than an orgasm.

The reason why it comes off as though I find "strength" in sex, is because honestly, in some ways, I wish I could. I crave carelessness and ignorance, not that I would fake ignorance to find bliss. But sometimes I wish I could. Especially on my blog where I pretty much vent about everything that bothers me ever. I wish I could be ignorant and lose myself in physical intimacy, because I cannot find it within myself to be emotionally or intellectually intimate with anyone. So yes, I do sometimes wish I could have "the ignorance of mindless sex," as I wrote on the post that received the above comment, but that's because I really just wish I could be intimate in general.

I feel very, very alone. And it's a terrible feeling. I break down and cry a lot. A lot. Because I don't know what to do with myself. What do I do with myself?
Nothing. I can do nothing but slowly disappear, until I become a ghost of this world. I'm falling through the floors and ceilings, hoping to slip into a place I belong. I am not of this world.



And now a variety of Skins gifs and pictures that honestly express how I feel: