Fuck You.

Fuck you Fuck you Fuck you Fuck you Fuck you Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you Fuck You.

After being able to type out every single one of those Fuck Yous, rather than all of the words that I would like to have come exploding out of my brain,
I feel much, Much better.

One more time?
FUCK YOU.

...

If I had said it in person,
I would have at least had your reaction.

Talk.

So. We finally got a chance to talk in person today.
And I love him. I really do.
It makes my shit that much more complicated, and it makes seeing him become a chaos of emotions.
But. We talked.
Or tried at least.

Do you have any idea for as to how incapable I am when it comes to talking about emotions? Talking about anything that comes even remotely close to being personal?
I sat there. And I literally choked on the words that I was trying to get out
Clenching my fists, shifting my legs, shaking my head with jerking motions, and exclaiming exasperated and pained noises, trying to physically will myself to speak.

My spoken words don't feel good enough. They WERE NOT good enough.
We sat there, and I could feel his eyes on me, watching as I struggled to get the words out, tried to tell him the things he needed to hear. I didn't speak enough. My words weren't adequate enough. But I gave him a lot more than I could have given anyone else.

I believe that there really is something wrong with me. I get it, there are plenty of people who aren't capable of talking about their emotions. But I shouldn't have to physically will myself to utter and stutter through every sentence that I've got.

I love him. And he deserves better than a fucking stutter.
I know that I fucked up. I can't fix it. The whole thing was fucked up. I don't think we can fix it. No matter how much of my shit I can pull together, how many issues we can work our way through, I don't think we're capable of fixing it.

And that thought rips me to fucking shreds.
Beats the shit out of me, rips every last hair out of my head, breaks every damn bone in my body, and throws me to the curb, leaving me in a daze, having to find my car and pull myself back together here in the drivers seat.
I'm not okay. But I can wear a wig. Make a tourniquet. Put on a band-aid.
It's not a solution. But it conceals the worst of it.

And on a Brighter note,

I threw my son his first birthday party today
And I am officially satisfied, happy, and proud of the result.
Despite efforts made at ruining my day,
I pulled off a pretty hella successful birthday party
And though it was stressing as fuck, absolutely overwhelming, I was exhausted, and there were a few points when I thought I wouldn't be able to pull it off,
I was in a good mood throughout the duration of the day
A great mood, actually.
And after endless hours of cooking and stressing that everything would go as planned, I pulled off the perfect party.
And I am now officially exhausted and drained
No demons to chase my sleep tonight
Nope
This lady is going to pass the fuck out.
< 3

Move.

Yup, I know I'm not stable.
Not happy.
And not talking to you, I think that'll fix that.
I keep going back and forth.
It'll be better not to be with you.
And then I switch to dammit it'll be better to be with you.
Yeahhhh if I'd seen you it'd probably be different
If I'd gone ahead and came out and said what I needed to say over the phone?
Yeah it'd probably be different.
But I didn't.
And it's not.
So what the fuck ever.
Fuck.
Yeah.
Ill get over it.
And I'll be okay.
After all of this, I know I'm not okay.
And I'm not just going to throw myself down the drain by putting myself through more.
There's so much that I could say to you,
Would probably help clear it all up,
Or will just lead to you giving me more lectures.
I suck at confrontations.
And that where most of my problems stem from.
But fuck it.
Ill be fine.
I'm over trying to blame you for any of it.
I just need to get a move on.

Great.

Aaand another opportunity to get it all out, gone.

Faith, you are just quite wonderful, aren't you.

Sure I Am.

Happy? Wha?

"It seems we have no control whatsoever, over our own hearts" god dammit. Yeah. No matter how much I can shut myself off, pretend its all good, bring up my walls and create the perfect facade? Yeah. No control over my damn heart.

Let me get this straight. This past week and a half? It's been a blended tsunami hurricane and tornado of fucking emotions. I'm going crazy. The majority of the time? Yes. I can all shove it to the back of my mind. I can tell all of you people that I'm beginning to feel just fine. But really? Still that internal storm. If you would just let me see you? I don't even know. I could go crazy. I could be just fine. But god dammit. I really need to see you. And my guess is, you're not going to let me spend a single moment alone with you. And so. I've got to figure this out alone. Everyone can make their efforts, try to talk me into feeling better, but you know what? You. You're the only person capable of calming all of this crazy. And all it's going to take is some time alone with you. Of course, I really doubt that you're going to grant that.

I take these steps. I go through these actions. Make these motions. Because they help me put up my front. Of course, I have a pretty bad feeling that this front is just going to push you away. But really, I don't see any scenario that will bring you closer. Because for the first time in my life, I really did let go. And what did it get me? Left alone, when I thought I was going to have you there for good. Make another attempt when we have our shit straight? How can we attempt that when you can leave me so shattered and alone? When you plan on making another attempt with someone, you don't do that. You don't leave them in the dark. I absolutely love you. And you know what? You made the claim that you loved me too. But quite honestly, I really don't believe that anymore. Not for a second. You don't do that to someone you love. And I don't know if I can let myself be in that position: being the girl who loves, but isn't loved back. It's too much hurt.

How could you? You tell me that life was getting stressful, and we just weren't having any fun anymore? That's really the only reason you were in it to begin with? Was for the fun? That right there, that tells me that you aren't in it for the long haul. How could you possibly expect something that's going to last, to be all about fun? All of that. All of this. It shatters me inside. I can't stand it, and I hate it, and I feel like I'm going to die. Thanks for that.

Moments.

Those moments when you're laying in bed, trying to close your eyes, will the sleep to take charge? Those moments are the hardest. You're alone. Your bed is meant for two. You see the sunlight creeping through your window. Those moments? The moments when sleep won't take charge? Those moments are the moments that drive you crazy. It's just you and your thoughts. The only companion available, is the one most willing to remind you of every wrong move you've ever made. Loves to remind you of all your flaws, loves to reveal all of your true and horrid traits. Those moments? They hate the living shit out of you, and there isn't a spare moment that they will spend to take a moment and just give you a break. In the midst of happiness, and in the midst of depression, those moments? They will find you, and they will ruin you. Every chance possible. Every attempt at closing your eyes. The moments will come. Every. Single. Time.

Floods.

Method for self-inflicting pain.

Pierce me, Pierce Me, PIERCE ME.

Grant that one desire, and I promise the rest of it'll go away

When there's no more room for any more holes,

Gimme the ink
And keep washing that pain away

Trust.

I've come to realize, that I am a lot more introverted and withdrawn than I originally suspected. I spend so much time thinking things over and playing out scenarios in my head, that I forget that throughout that whole duration, I haven't said a single word To anyone. I don't trust people. To trust anyone with your deeper thoughts is to trust them not to use those thoughts against you. It's to trust them not to call you two faced or indecisive when you've decided to change your mind about something, And to trust that your secrets are going to be safe with them. Too many people are untrustworthy. And too many of my thoughts are too important to me to be put in any sort of jeopardy. So I simply don't trust. While I don't trust, I try not to judge either. To judge is to decide that you don't like a being, and to have dislike only creates discontent. Discontent and dislike cause too much drama. And I've got way too many things to go over in my head to be worrying about any sort of drama.
I don't think that I care about the real world nearly as much as I care about the world inside my head. I'm not sure if that means there's something wrong with me. I'm pretty sure that in all likelihood, It's a pretty good sign of it. No one else seems to have problems with connecting with people. And while I get along with people, I don't connect. I think that links with the trust issues. There are few people that I trust, and for those that I do, I still have to remind myself that yes, this is Someone I can talk to. Yet even when I am talking and trusting, my mind is going over everything so fast, conversing debating and discussing with itself, that I forget to tell it all. And so I'm still stuck with this whole mess in my head. It gets to the point where I simply don't talk until I can pick out exactly what words there are to describe exactly what it is that I want to say. People tend to get impatient with that shit. So most of the time, it's better to just answer with, "Alright." "Okay." and "Idk."
Even if I could dish out every thought and opinion, you still have to take into consideration the fact that people are just going to stop listening after a certain period of time. Or maybe they haven't been listening all along. Either way. At some point within that conversation, you can see it written plainly on their faces and within their body language that they no longer care about where all of these words are going. "This sucks. Time to worry about my Facebook status."
One more thing: I guess I really don't discuss myself. I guess that makes sense; considering I don't trust and don't talk and shit. Apparently No one really knows anything about my life or how I grew up or what I've gone through. This whole time, I was certain of the fact that I was an open person; an open book. Turns out, I guess I'm not.


Oh, yes, indeed, Ma'am. You are quite Crazy. Maybe I should get some cats. Yup, quite Crazy.

Read.

Here's how it goes:
When I'm frustrated,
I read.
When I'm depressed,
I read.
When I'm alone,
I read.
When I'm going crazy trying to straighten out all of my shit and all of my thoughts and take a break from figuring out all of the chaos and insanity,
I read.

So here I am:
Reading.

Guess what:
It's not working.



How Grand.