they say you don't know what you got 'til it's gone / / they say that your darkest hour comes before your dawn

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

A whole bunch of maybe;

Lately I've found it near impossible to write anything that's coherent enough that others will understand without having to turn mad first. My mind's gone wandering without me; I've found myself feeling like this too many times to enjoy it. I think, today, I'll just write what comes to mind. Even if none of it matters, even if none of it connects. I just need to clear my head of the garbage mound I've created out of nothingness.

No names. Nothing specific. Anonymous confessions. Take them how you will. Make it personal, or brush it off. I don't care.

Let's face it. I don't have the heart to fight against you anymore. Doing so has forced me to become vexed more often and on a stronger level than usual. I'm not giving up, I'm just done with this tiresome game. If you're going to take it from me, then take it. If you're only going to toy with this, then toy with it. I don't care for troublesome people like you. It takes too much energy to be angry with you, and I simply cannot spare more time than you deserve. I'm beginning to wonder if you're only doing this because it vexes me. That's probably it. From now on, you don't matter. When it comes to you, I'm content feeling empty. If that's the only way we'll both move forward from this, than it shall be that way.

I don't understand you. Maybe it's because I've never had a soft spot for people who have trampled on my heart like you do. Maybe because I'm cold hearted. Maybe because I refuse to let someone dictate what I can do with my life. Maybe because I don't care for those who waste my time. And I'm wondering; am I sticking around because I've developed a soft spot for you ? I hope that's not the case. Carry on the way you always have, and there'll come a day where I'll have to leave you behind. I hope I haven't developed a soft spot for you, otherwise walking away is going to kill me. I don't think I'll make it out okay this time. I barely survived last time.

You keep calling me "strong." I'm really not. I wish I were so I wouldn't continue putting up with more than I need. Obviously I don't see myself the same way you see me. I wish, for one day, I could sit behind those pearly eyes of yours and watch myself live. Maybe then I'd have a better understanding of who I am and what I'm capable of. Maybe then I'd have the same confidence and faith in myself that you have in me. Sometimes, I think about how different things could have been without you. I'm forever in your debt for the happiness you've brought into my life.

One day, you're going to wake up and realise that you've been left behind. Everyone's growing up. We're all accepting the responsibilities that come with being a young adult, and most of us are living up to the expectations of those around us. But not you. You're still pulling the same old childish stunts you were years ago. You're still relying on everyone else to give you what you need. You cannot get it yourself. You're not mature enough. I don't take you seriously. I guess I never really did. That's probably why I did what I did without falter. The only thing you've ever taken seriously are the things that don't matter. And the saddest part about all of this is that you still think you're as popular, cool, supported, and loved as you were years ago. You're not. When you fall down next time, you're going to have to pick yourself up alone. There won't be anyone by your side, no one will run to your aid. We're all too busy with our own mature and adult lives to waste our time on someone as juvenile as yourself.

I'll leave this one short and to the point - I want to be one of those people you run to when you need someone. I know it won't happen over night, but I wish it did.

Please stop pressuring me to do more than I can. I know my own limits, and pushing me will only make me push back harder. You need to let me do my own thing, in my own time, my own way. I am not a child, I am not incapable of making decisions for myself, and I am not oblivious to the future possibilities ahead of me. Be there for me when I need you. If you help me every step of the way, I'll never learn how to do it by myself. I have to crawl before I run.

A friend of mine said that she no longer feels sadness from the things that usually would spark rage, and as such she feel heartless. For a while, I thought that's what I was feeling - heartless. The things that usually would have me up in a brawl no longer affected me. I was beginning to think I had lost the ability to feel. I've since realised that this is not the case. My heart has only awoken to the idea that it can shut out people on its own without my approval. It no longer cares for those who are less than deserving. It's a frightful thing to acknowledge, but a glorious thing to accept. Once you know your heart can defend from such awful feelings as sadness and hurt, you soon feel as though you're invincible to the pain others can bring you.

They say what makes a writer a great writer is depression. Because of depression, you're able to feel the lowly lows and the peaks of happiness. You go from reaching euphoria to crashing and burning at rock bottom. You feel deeper than the average person because you desire to feel normal again, and anything that resembles normality is good enough. Maybe that's why I hang on to my depression so fondly. Maybe I'm afraid of ridding myself of depression because I'll lose my muse. A depressed writer knows of the glories of happiness and love because they desperately seek out any means possible to obtain it. And it's because of that desperation that they can lay down the words that wrap themselves around your heart and soul so tightly that you feel what they feel, too.
I find myself writing how I feel more often than feeling what I write.

"You cannot be a good writer of serious fiction if you are not depressed"
~ Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.

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