Fought with my boyfriend this morning and now I'm crying and a mess and it took everything I had to not cut myself in the shower (even if I did bring my razor into my room with me).

I hate myself. I hate that I'm so fucking sensitive. I hate that I can't express to him my emotions without him feeling like a fuck up... that makes me a fuck up, right?

I don't understand how he can bear the thought of breaking up with me, even when he is that upset... "have a nice life"... he says... like he's done with me and it's that easy.

I wish I could die.

We talked about things... but I still just feel... like I'm nothing.

I'm tired of fighting for everything I want in life.

I'm tired of fighting just to live.
I'm tired of worrying about food, clothes, rent, books, whether or not I'm going to have enough ink to print my homework or whether I can scrounge up the money I need for my scantrons for my midterms...

I know I'm depressed all the time but can't he fucking see that life is really shitty for me right now?

My only safe place to fall doesn't feel very safe today.

I'm gonna bitch about relationship stuff.

Why do we stop trying? Why do we get so comfortable with people that we stop telling them all of the amazing things we feel about them or think about them? I feel like I'm the only person that doesn't stop doing this when I'm in a relationship with someone... I feel like I annoy my boyfriend with all my mushy, you're-the-best-thing-in-the-world, talk.

I had to pull up an ex-coworker's phone number in my old phone, the phone I had when my boyfriend and I started talking. I always read through his old text messages when I do that... and then I always wonder what the fuck happened. Maybe it's because I stopped writing poems? I don't know... but he didn't even read them half the time anyway... Looking back at them, I hate a lot of what I wrote, lol, and I can't say I blame him for skipping over them (pretty sure it was more of a lack of an interest in the site as opposed to a lack of an interest in his girlfriend's writing).

I'm not really one to push an issue. I try to sit back and figure things out for myself... but I really don't feel important anymore. He tells me he loves me and he tells me I'm pretty but it's always in a joking, half-serious tone. The stuff he used to say was so romantic and heart-felt and call me sappy (no, really, I really am...) because I miss it to pieces.

He forgot I had a tooth pulled a year ago... he also forgot I gave him a christmas present last year... he also said he was going to send me something and didn't... I didn't send him his present because, honestly, I couldn't afford the shipping... his present's still sitting here, wrapped... fucking yoda mug is too cute... the longer it sits there the more I want to open it up myself and use it for makeup brushes or something equally disgraceful.

I just... always think about him. I always try to do things for him... be it, sending him a hand written letter (which at one point he said he thought was romantic), writing him stupid love poems, or getting him small gifts for holidays... I always try to let him know he's loved... and I feel like I'm forgotten... *sigh*

I don't really know how to adequately express this, though. I tried to... I told him I didn't feel important but I couldn't express why. I dunno. I'm bitching about all this but he really is good to me... if I'm not feeling well he stays home with me and talks to me instead of going out with his friends... he's there for me if I ask him to be... I just don't want to have to ask... it kind of takes away everything good about the act... I think so, anyway.

I just kind of want him to do something because he loves me... not because his girlfriend said she feels unimportant and wants him to do something.

Wishful thinking, I guess.

happy new year with new challenges!

i feel like writing and i can't, so what you're about to see will be word vomit.
 
Life is scary as fuck. i've been in a relationship for a little over a year and i can't breathe without him and i think it adds more stress on him than i mean it to. He tells me how he's a shit boyfriend and failing all the time but the only way i'd really feel like he could fail me is if he 1. didn't ever own up to his mistakes, 2. cheated on me, 3. was never there for me, 4. didn't love me... and ya know... if he decided he couldn't do it anymore i'd rather he tell me than any of those other things happening... i need honesty above all else.
 
He gets worried because of how horribly depressed we both get. It ends up being too much for him because he doesn't tell me when things are bad and i guess i'm just oblivious or... i don't know... but i don't seem to notice right away. It's a gradual decline in the quality of time we have together or our conversations until it feels like he's pushing me away and i'm completely alone. i don't know if he normally worries about everything but i know that when he's depressed everything weighs on him. He tends not to talk about problems at all... which is ok i guess if it really doesn't help him but i feel like i'm left shooting down his demons in the dark because how will i know what to reassure him of if i've no idea what's going on in his head?
 
He's just so strong until the moment of collapse that i don't always see it before it hits and the only thing that scares me about it is that i worry if he did decide to leave it would be like that... quick and full force.
 
It hurts his feelings when i talk about him leaving... it's not so much that i think he's untrustworthy (because i don't) it's more like... the closer he gets to me, the more of me he sees, the more i'm afraid he isn't going to like it. i hate it. i hate pretty much everything about me. If i'm able to pull through all of this, i will give myself more grace. Right now, i don't feel like i'm deserving of grace.
 
i'm supposed to be starting school soon and i don't have any money or a job lined up. i was supposed to get financial aid (and i will still get financial aid) but it's going to be late because of some old classes i took. i'm applying everywhere near the college. i hope i get a call back.
 
i bought myself a dental plan for the year because my teeth are so fucked up but i can only afford to get the teeth pulled that are basically falling apart in my mouth. i'm hoping i can save money somehow and get the root canals done that i need this year. It's about 700 a tooth (which isn't bad because that's including the crown). i'm going to take better care of myself from now on, i just have a lot to clean up after i guess... a lot of neglect.
 
i found some things out about my family that i wasn't really expecting and didn't really want to know. i feel... betrayed. i want to move away. When i was younger the only thing i cared about was taking care of my father, and now all i care about is getting the fuck away.
 
My teeth hurt. i'm getting a second tooth pulled today (second since insurance, third tooth overall). i feel inadequate in so many ways. i can't write. This is writing, it's bitching. i can't talk about the way i feel because it's like... focusing on the pain of it all and i am afraid that i would break if i gave in to it all. i feel like the character from the movie gravity... everything around me is falling apart and going to shit and all i can do is fight to stay alive but i'm wondering if it's even worth it because i've already lost so much along the way.

i'd really like to jump off a bridge right about now and there happens to be one about a mile or two from me. and this is what i've been thinking about for the last couple weeks. It's easy for other people to tell me to be brave and keep my head up and tell me how strong i am when they don't have to live inside my brain.

i don't even know what scares me the most about doing it... i guess... being more of a disappointment than i already am.

the light

i don't want to be in the light because it only burns; it only illuminates the heaviness that lives beneath my eyes (from a lack of sleep but how do they expect me to sleep with all this fucking light shining on me).

it's so cold and empty and barren inside, under my paperskin, and the brightness beams beneath and fills me... but i can't keep what isn't mine and it hurts more to have something leak through me than never having it to begin with so, please, keep it away from me.

i know what it's like to live in trenches and i know we're all just breathing until the day we don't and we want to know... we have to know why... and i've come to realize that whatever it is (your why) will only ever be yours (and i am not yours even if you were mine) and you can't forcibly change or debate your way into changing someone's why and if you have the audacity to try... well, it doesn't matter much what i'd say to you (does it).

keep your little light (i blew mine out to hide from you).

Goodbye~

Goodbye 2012. You tried really hard to end me, didn't you? Then again, I feel that way about most years. Endings so close they can be tasted don't come along very often. Every breath was held as angels and demons placed bets on my soul, on my strength, on whether or not I had any fight left in me... It's been a long fucking year.

I was scared of you for so long. You bestowed the magic number on me this year. I was certain my demise came with turning 29. Turning 30 scares me even more... Kind of. The idea of living passed her... seems wrong, in a way. Like something in my genetic makeup is determined to end her line. We'll see, I suppose...

This year I learned that family has little to do with the one you're born into. Most people are selfish. Gray hair doesn't look half as bad as I thought it would. It's better to let go of people that don't love you for who you are than to change... you'll always come back around to whoever it is you are... and you'll slowly resent whoever it is that made you change. I'm still really good at bluffing when I'm scared shitless (that's a good card to have up your sleeve if you've been in some of the situations I have). There are people who feel the same way I do about love... that it's a give and take... and that... is the beginning of something amazing.

I fell in love. It wasn't graceful either. I still trip over my words and get tongue-tied. I stutter. Badly. I get butterflies and goosebumps and lumps in my throat and a pit in my chest... and it's wonderful.

If I had a choice to either go back and relive my life sans the tragedy or stay here now... I'd pick here. I'd pick now. I'm almost 30 and I'm just starting to learn how to be who it is I am... and it's hard and it sucks... but at least I have support... and love.

Goodbye 2012, my muse, my friend.

Uneasy~

Writing. Writing. Writing.

It's the only thing tangible I have. It's the only thing left when everything else falls apart. It's the only thing I've to look back on... to remind me...

Today, for the first time in a while, I was severely suicidal. I feel like utter and complete shit. I've worked all day on trying to write a stupid fucking poem and I can't. I don't know what to write about. I don't feel like I understand what's asked of me... or rather... how to put that on paper. I don't know how to translate it. These stupid fucking meters are driving me insane and I am second guessing myself along the way. Ugh.

So here I am, to write, to whine...

This shit is too disgraceful to post on dA.

All I want to do is call you or be with you... have a fucking minute alone to talk to you... and I can't and I don't and I feel like shit because of it.

This goddamned house with paper thin walls and halls that echo because of tiled floors is driving me mad.

I don't believe in myself anymore. I'm so uneasy because I feel like you're going to see it. That thing inside of me that I see. It's not like I can get rid of it... I've tried for years... I'll keep trying for you though. Because it would be good... for us.

What does a promising person such as yourself want with a 29-year-old nothing like me? I can see part of the allure... but only part. I can't see whatever the fuck it is about me that you can. This claim of brilliance, beauty, bravery... I see shambles and 29 years wasted. 

I'm sorry you fell for me.

Maybe that's why they call it falling? Once you're down there's no way back up, only through and out the other side.

Have fun on this wild ride. Maybe you'll learn some new tricks before you finally see just what it is you've bargained for.

I used to want to be a pyro.

I thought I had no reason to maintain this blog seeing as how I've been writing and submitting a shitton on deviantART but someone was gracious enough to bring to my attention that my blog is much more raw than my journal there...

I don't like subjecting others to a "forced" view of my shitty life. I feel like every time I press that submit button I make myself more and more of an attention whore.

I found out recently that people actually want to be depressed. Inspiration and sorts or something... Being clinically depressed... I would have to say anyone that thinks they want this is dead wrong.

Every day I go on and I'm not happy for an hour... or two... or even a minute, I feel like I've failed. Being that I am a perfectionist of sorts and EXTREMELY afraid of failure... it only gives me a reason to beat myself up all the more. All the more.

For fuck's sake a cat scratched my hand and I got depressed and wanted to cut because it triggered me... that burning flesh... that ache in my skin. I wanted more. So much more.

I truly am a special brand of fucked up.

And now you're going to watch with eyes wide to see what's left after the fire. <3

Closed.

I don't want to let you in any more. One by one I resurrect the walls to my cage. I roll into a ball and pull my hair into my face; inhale. I close my eyes and remember. Remember it's ok to feel like this. It's ok to feel.

If only we could feel something more.

She lashes and thrashes about behind the bars in my chest. Out. She wants out. She wants things her way. She's tired of being ignored and pushed down. I know what will happen if I concede.

Sex.
Alcohol.
Starvation.

Little girls can't be reasoned with.

I hate how she cries when she falls. So pathetic. She looks for comfort and someone to bandage her wounds. As though she doesn't realize it's all her fault. If only she could learn from the bitches. Go to the bed she's made and lick her wounds silently.

It is all her fault.
For being silent-

I hate her.

Well then...

It seems he's not the only one to think I pity myself. Joy.

I'm going to do something tomorrow. I don't know what yet... But I'm going to do something.

Fuck everyone.

That's how.

Meh.
I wish depression were as easy as me feeling sorry for myself.
Ugh. My family. They're such assholes.

I don't even know what to write. I just need to. Because I can't cry; not in front of her. And you're not here to talk to. I hate myself. I hate how she makes me feel. I hate how I make me feel. That bridge up the street wakes me up in the middle of the night screaming my name. That knife in the kitchen does the same.

I put a steak knife in with the butter knives. Everytime I go to grab one I close my eyes and hope it cuts me. Feeling around in the dark.

Last night I was making dinner and bacon grease popped onto my arm and into my eye. It made me feel alive. It made me want more pain. It doesn't hurt as bad as what's inside. The stuff I can't get out. The stuff I want to go away.

You know... when I left... they told me I'd go to hell. They said I'd fall slowly but there'd be no way back for me. And now... they say I should stop feeling sorry for myself and kick my depression.

How do you let go of a six year marriage that ended in your spouse choosing someone else? Six years of abuse and neglect. How?

How do you let go of a father who was never there emotionally?

How do you let go of years of molestations?

How?

How?

Death. That's how.

You

I don't know what to feel anymore... only what I do feel. Only him. Only you.

You grab my heart's attention like none other. I feel weak around you. Every thought turns to mush and my walls fall completely at your feet.

Naked.
Exposed.
Unarmored.

When you're not around... I am stricken with panic and fear. Weak. Uneasy. I want to make sure you're safe and that you know how much I love you. So... so much.

I'm getting so close to leaving. I can taste it.

------------

This morning was hell.

I couldn't sleep at all last night. Now I'm exhausted and have a house to clean. On my own. Since it's my job. I'm the fucking maid.

*sigh*

I almost grabbed the scissors and jabbed them into my chest.

But your face... your voice...they're marked on my memory and they've stained my heart... Knowing I'll be able to brush my hand across your skin... It's the only hope I have. Being with you.

So I'll be good. I'll stick around. Because I said I would. I hope you can see how much I care... even though I don't really know if it comes off that way all the time... I... try my best to be strong for you and not burden you with my problems... I know you have a lot to deal with already... You tell me time and again it's no problem... but I can damn near feel your heart sink because you can't save me from the hell I've created.

I don't want you to save me. I just want you to love me through this. We'll make it. I know we will.

The dreams... I'm worried I'll wake up screaming your name. They're so real. All I want to do is sleep. It feels so... so real. I just want to touch you and feel your skin on mine. You are mine... and I want so much to claim you for the world to see and hear and know...

The anticipation... the... dread... the fear. I can barely stand it. But in the morning it's what gets me out of bed. And it's what keeps my days from falling apart. It's what keeps my heart beating and it's what keeps me from all but disappearing.

You.

I didn't realize pastors asked for 15 year old girls to dance like strippers on church beam poles until I met you. When I refuse to dance, deny the eager few their chance. End the charade and lay the blame on me.
Push me. Pull me. See if you can fool me. Tangle me up in your rope. Make me the example as you choke on all that shit you shoved down our throats. Quietly glare as I squirm. Though, never becoming your worm, I keep my head up off the ground. I smile as your tears stream down. You can't explain why your hands are stained and my face is turning blue. I refuse to be one of you. Stare. Glare. Eat your flesh that's rare. I roll back up on my stairs and hide behind these pews. I will never be you.

Here I sit, plotting the end. Making plans in secret. Sending out cries for help. Texting friends and family members for support. And there you sit in oblivion. Smiling at me and telling me you love me. I don't know how to live with myself.

So tired. I don't want to sleep. Instead I'm stuck laying here typing this on my cell. It's the only privacy I get. I wonder what the point is. I wonder if I'm too selfish. Maybe that's why I haven't gone anywhere? I just like to make everyone think it's because I care.

But really I don't.

*sigh*

No, I really do.

I'm madly in love with... Sin~

Writey writing write~

So... I know I'm kind of slacking writing here everyday buuuut I've been doing a lot of research and writing poetry. If you'd like to see that it's all available here : http://hfeather53.deviantart.com/ .

Life is still... being figured out. I'll get back to you and let you know when I've got answers ;)

falling is easy when it's up

Wait. Wait. Wait.

For how long? Why?

I don't want to anymore.

Maybe I'm just too much?

I haven't the time that you need... or don't rather.

One day... I'll get out. You'll see.

Perfect for me.

Skin. That's all I am. To you. To her. To them. There's no reason for me here. No life beyond my skin and the thoughts contained therein. No one cares enough to give them breath. Not even me.

I'm tired of fighting with you. Tired of telling you time and again I feel like I don't matter. You won't listen. I don't matter.

I don't want to matter. Maybe then... you are perfect for me?

I'll just cut a little more. Shove myself deeper to the floor so it's easier to keep me here.

I can't fight for me. I'm too tired from fighting for everyone else.

It's too easy to believe I'm worthless. I'm worth this.

I need release.

Pointless~

I get worried that one day no one will want to hear my story. No one will care about how I feel. I write so much... because I feel so much. Being trapped, here in my head, is dizzying. I feel like an animal. I'm learning to cope and change with my surroundings. But underneath I'm still just an ape. I watch you. I do what you do. It makes you happy. When you're happy it's easier to believe that I am happy too.

Tell me how much you want me and how sorry you are it's at in inconvenient time. Tell me you love me when I ask you to touch me. Worry about the things that I swear to you are fine. Ignore the raging ravine that's forming right in front of us.

I wish I could call you my best friend.

I see how hard you try. I see how everyday is a fight for you as well. I'm sorry I can't be more help. I'm sorry you're stuck with me for now. For now.

These words. All these unspoken words. They seem pointless. And I'm scared. I'm scared they'll drift away and I'll become nothing. Because this is all I have. This is my concrete. This is my home. This is my family.

I will do my best for you. I will try to make you happy. And I'll wait. Because that's what I'm good at.

Mmm...

I don't know what to write. I'm tired. I hurt. My body aches. It slowly rips itself apart without any reason. Life is strange.