6. a stranger

Dear you,

I wonder about you, you know. What you think about when you see me. If you look at me for an extra second while I'm unaware, the same way I do with you. I wonder if you see me as who I really am, instead of who I usually am pretending to be.

When I see you, I wonder if we would be friends. I either decide yes or no, because I'm human and I have a tendency to judge people. If yes... well, I'm sorry, but you may be in for some awkward conversation. I like to talk to people. I like to make friends with people. I want to feel connected in some way.

I wonder if you do the same things. I want to know what your story is. I want to know the reasoning behind this chanced meeting, if we were meant to meet and make something of it.

Not-really-knowing-how-to-sign-this,
me.

I'm homesick for the home I've never had. I want to be back with the people who make up my family. And no, it's not those who I share biological similarities with. It's the two people in the world I would do anything for. The two people I trust with almost absolutely anything. And like I always do, I managed to fuck it up. Again. I want to erase. I want to rewind. I want a do-over. It's not fair to keep throwing me these curveballs. I don't give a fuck if life isn't fair; I've had my fair share of trials and it's time to cut me a break. I don't want to be waking up afraid that I'm going to have to call 911 because I can't breathe. Again. I don't want to be taking the bus to school, afraid of what's going to happen if I speak my mind. Again. I don't want to be coming home, afraid of what mood the house is in today. Again. I'm drowning in my own fears. I can't trust anyone with them. I want to push people away so that I can find out who is going to come back. I'm sure that the people who are still here are here for just a moment, fleeting in the human-made concept of time. That once they see who I really am, see all of me and not just the good or just the bad, they'll run. Because I can't even handle me most of the time. How can I expect someone else to? How can I ask this of them? It just doesn't seem fair. So instead, I'll continue on. I can't go on; I'll go on. I miss my best friends. I miss feeling like I'm safe. I want to find someone who wants to be with me all the time, someone who holds me in their arms and proves to me that they won't ever let go. I want someone to share a bed with at night, so when all of the monsters come out of their caves and dance around my depression, I can turn over and be comforted as I cry out. But some people aren't meant to be happy. They're meant to make others happy, and just try and be content with that.

5. your dreams

Dear you,

I'm sure you know this, but I'm saying it anyway. We have a love/hate relationship. I love thinking about you, I love the places you take me; you're basically my every fantasy, everything I ever even semi-wanted.

But I hate you. Because unfortunately for us, I am a realist with pessimistic tendencies. I know that the majority of the time, what you show me and tell me is possible, isn't. Talking about the future has always scared me, and that's all you want from me. Sure, it's great when we're there, but what about when we have to come back to the present? You just get to walk away unscathed, preparing to come back later, whereas I have to deal with the reality of it.

It's not helpful.

Love,
me.

things have changed

and i don't know if they'll ever go back to the way they were. and if they don't, i won't ever be able to forgive myself, and forget about the amazing friendship that would have been.

self-realization in english class

I am an angry person. I know this about myself. I have a tendency to call people idiots when I think they're being stupid. I will yell at someone when they do something that I don't like.

I used to think that I was angry because people just weren't mature enough to act as smart as I knew they could be. But recent events have changed my mind. I'm angrier as of late - I'm sure anyone who has spent a significant amount of time with me in the past month or so has noticed this. And I think it's because of my health shit.

I'm sure that people are tired of me talking about this, too. But I have to do it in order to get my stuff straight.

I'm getting angry at people because to some extent, I can control them. I can have a good reason to be angry at them. Because maybe they said something mean, or they weren't doing their work, or just something stupid that I shouldn't really care about. Whereas with my health, and my cough... There's no use in getting angry at myself. It just doesn't work as well. It never has. Being angry because I had cancer? There was no point. I still would have cancer, I still would have to get chemo, and I would still have to face the possibility of death. So I would get angry at the people who were acting the way I didn't want them too. And that's exactly what I'm doing now.

just reflections.

I'm doing my portfolio this year on Columbine. Kind of a heady topic, I know. But since my last two were mainly just writing, it was told to me that I should probably do a research portfolio this year. I started out with early childhood education, but who are we kidding? The only type of psychology that has really ever interested me is that of serial killers, or just seriously deranged people.

But as I'm getting further into my research, I'm noticing something. These kids may have been a bit damaged, a bit screwed up, but some of their thoughts... they're thoughts that everyone has. We all think things like they do at some point. No matter how righteous we want to seem, we have all wished that someone would just go away, disappear, if only for a split second.

And now I've started listening to music and have completely lost my train of thought. Dammit.

here i go again on my own...

Dear you,

You're going to know this is for you because I'm going to send it to you. I hope you won't have blocked me off your Facebook by the time this is finished, but if you have, I'll understand.

I just wanted to say I'm sorry. I never would have posted that if I knew you were going to see it. And I know that sounds cowardly, but that's because it is. But let me explain. I know I don't deserve it, but give me just another few minutes of your time.

My head sometimes feels like it's going to explode. Sometimes, I feel like I'm drowning and I've forgotten how to swim. And my life preserver is writing. It's the only place I can feel completely safe in my feelings, feelings I wouldn't ever dare say to anyone. But sometimes, just writing something isn't enough. Sometimes, I need to get it out of my head, and away from my heart and head, and my only way to do that is to post it here. And so that's what I did.

The last letter I posted I had been holding onto for a while. Since the last time you and he broke up. I only just now posted it because I only just now found it. I added in a few things in the beginning that made it more pertinent to the situation now, but didn't edit out anything else.

And now to the last little part of this. Sweetie, I am so so sorry that I hurt you. I am. I love you. You are the first girl in the history of forever that I completely, 100% trust and would do absolutely anything for. You're the first girl I've felt completely comfortable calling my best friend. I know I've said things about how the manipulators in the past were my best friends, but honestly, I could never feel a hundred percent comfortable calling them that. I've never felt like I had to censor myself around you. I know that whatever was scaring me, or upsetting me, I could come talk to you about it. And I'm so scared that I may have ruined that.

So I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I hurt you. I'm sorry that I've fucked things up, yet again. And I understand if you don't want to talk to me again. But that having been said, I already miss you, and our talks. I was looking forward to girl time the next time I was in Rhode Island.

Love,
me.