I want my head on your chest and your hand on my back
The smell of your cologne
And the touch of your skin
The feel of your sheets
And light of the screen
Give me the night and the cold
And your jacket and cigarettes
The wind and the smoke
Pass the windows and glass
Give me butterflies and laughs
Beer cans and bottles
Give me 3 short weeks
And endless words
Time together and spent apart
Give me you here with me
My head on your chest and your hand on my back
Your lips to mine
And smiles that touch eyes
I want my head on your chest and your hand on my back
I really don’t understand how people can be just straight assholes to their “friends.” Fuck you. I’m better without you anyways.
Pen to Paper
This is where I lose myself
This is where I leave behind the pain and tears
And turn to words and lines
Pen to paper
This is how I get better
This is when my paper crumbles and my pen bleeds
This is where my thoughts come out and emotions are revealed
Pen to paper
This is when this paper becomes my reality
And reality becomes a story.
Why is it that getting arrested and having a DUI doesn’t bother me but not talking to you does? I hate this. I hate everything about this feeling. You told me things, made me believe things I never thought I would. Gave me a feeling that I’ve never felt and now I guess it’s gone and I’m back where I started. This sucks. I just wanna go home.
You know what’s funny? I’ve done a lot of stupid shit, like a lot. And I’ve done some ok things, things that I’m actually pretty proud of. I’ve also had some pretty shitty things happen to me, and some pretty awesome things happen to me. But recently I guess you could say I’ve had my biggest fuck up. But I’ve also done probably the most awesome thing I’ve ever done and I’m actually really really proud of myself even with the fuck up.
Let me explain…
On February 17th I was at the gym working out when I started to feel sick. So I ran to the bathroom, did in fact get sick and then proceeded to have the worst panic attack I’ve ever had. Long story short, because of a friend helping me through the panic attack I applied to The Art Institute of Tennessee- Nashville on February 18th. Two days later I was given the application and then on March 8th I got my official notice of acceptance into the Spring 2013 quarter, meaning I was starting college April 1st.
I’m 20 years old, I’m a graphic designer who started her own business at the age of 18. I can honestly say I’ve done things in my life to make myself very proud. But this. Actually starting school. Actually going back, moving to Nashville is by far the best thing I’ve ever done for myself. The whole month of March I was all smiles. I couldn’t stop. I know my friends where getting annoyed with how happy and giggly I was. But damn it felt good knowing what the next chapter of my life was. I may not know every page but at least I knew where it was headed and that was the best feeling in the world.
Then, on March 30th at 5 am I got arrested. The morning I was planning to leave to drive to Nashville. 1 day before I was going to start school, I watched every page fly out the window. My new chapter was gone. And it was all my fault. I was sitting in a jail cell trying not to cry not because I was scared or mad but because for the first time in my life I felt like I had made my parents proud, and myself for that matter. And in one mistake I let everyone down.
Needless to say I was upset. My dad was the one to pick me up and I had held everything together pretty well until I saw him. I about fell over I was crying so much, barley able to pronounce the words “I’m sorry” over and over and over again into his chest. I had messed everything up. Everything was ruined. Nashville, school, everything!
We went home. Me, barely able to walk I was so tired, got home and slept for what felt like 10 minutes. It was so restless because my mind was going 1,000 miles per hour. But when I did finally wake up I made the decision that yesterday was over. Yes I had gotten arrested. Yes that seriously sucked. But there’s nothing I can do about it now. So crying and being mad at myself, was definitely necessary but I no longer needed to dwell on it.
I’m still extremely mad and disappointed in myself. And it’s no where near over. I’m still waiting for a police report and my court date. But the truth is, even with all that going on, and not knowing what’s going to happen in the next few months I’m the happiest I’ve been in a long time.
I have a family that loves me, and has shown me just how much recently.
I have friends that I can count on.
I have a guy that I actually miss and misses me.
I have a business that let’s me do what I love and puts food in my mouth.
I live in a city filled with music and talented people.
I go to school where I’m able to practice what I love and get better at it.
I could keep going but basically it can be summed up into one word:
I’m so incredibly blessed I can’t even begin to understand.
Soooooo I might be moving. It’s looking pretty good. I’m so excited but I’m kinda bummed to leave my house cause I finally got it the way I want it. But it’s worth it.
For a very small amount of time I was starting to be ok with myself. For the first time in my life I was ok with people looking at me. I didn’t care if my shirt came up a little. I started to feel comfortable with my body. By no means happy with it, but starting to like it a little more each day. Then one word changed everything. One picture. One comment. One joke. Can change the way you think. It’s sad but it’s true.
"I could fill page after page with what’s wrong with me. But ask me what’s right and I couldn’t complete a sentence."
With one word you made me hate myself even more. I didn’t think that was possible. So hey, congrats for proving me wrong.
I kinda wish you would think about me as much as I think about you.
But I know you don’t. And that’s ok.
I really hate when my anxiety kicks in. It’s like a train that just comes out of nowhere. And once it hits there’s no stopping it. I just have to wait till I pass out. But that normally takes a while. So I write until my fingers won’t move anymore. At least it helps me relax. Calms me down a little. But it makes me even more exhausted because it’s showing me every thought and with every word it’s just a break down waiting to happen. I can barley make it through a sentence without being blinded by tears. I sound like such an emo kid but there’s just no way to describe what I’m going through unless you’ve dealt with it yourself. No one can explain depression to you. You just can’t understand unless you’ve really lived with it. It’s not a disorder it’s a disease; an illness that slowly picks apart every inch of your brain. And god forbid you’re strong enough to live through that it starts at the rest of your body. Slowly breaking down what’s left of you. Leaving you weak and seemingly helpless. It turns even the mildest pain into unbearable torture. Everyday is a task. Everyday is a battle against yourself to actually get out of bed and put on a smile and try to live your life. Every once in a while you find relief from it. An actual reason to smile. Something that truly motivates you to get out of bed. And when you find that you hold on to it for dear life. You cling to it like it’s your last breath. But in the end it just makes everything worse because that “relief” always disappears. And you’re left right back where you started. So once you’ve chased that brief relief too many times you learn. And you end up just going along with life. Not trying to find any reason to smile just trying to make it through the day without someone noticing just how small your smile has become. And sure you might be able to put on a good show, give everyone a big laugh. But if someone really looks at you, I mean really look at your eyes, it’s clear that it’s all fake. That every smile and laugh is just a way to cope. Just a way to get through the day so you can finally go back to sleep. Because after all sleep is the only time you can really find any peace. It’s not guaranteed, but there’s enough hope in your dreams to keep you running back to bed.
I’m tired now. My brain’s still going about 1000 miles per hour but at least now I think I can close my eyes and just pass out. I’m really tried of these nights. Really tired of writing what seems like the same words over and over and over again. It’s all the same. I’m sad, I fucked up, I can’t handle this. No matter how hard I try to get out of this cycle it just keeps going. There is no cure for depression. Not at this stage. The only thing close to a cure is being numb. I’m really good at that. My whole body, mind, soul for that matter can just go numb. It’s really not a fun way to live. It’s sad, and lonely.
Last thought before I try to sleep: You never truly understand just how lonely you are until you’re in a room full of people you call your friends, and realize they know nothing about you…
I need to know everything will be ok.
I really just need someone to tell me it’s going to be ok. That all this is worth it. And in the end everything we’ve gone through; all the pain, and tears and ups and downs is worth it. That it’s not all just a waste of time. That I’m not just a waste of time and space. I need someone to look me in the eyes and say you’ll be ok. I need to know I’ll be ok. Because I’m the farthest thing from ok. And I have been for as long as I can remember.
I hate being a girl.
I’m never like this. I never get involved or wrapped up in this stuff and this is why. What the hell is wrong with me?!? I should have never started this. I should have never ever ever gotten myself in this situation. I’ve never done it before because of this reason, why in gods name did I think it would be different?? WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME??? Ahhhh!!
Normally I would love to hear no strings attached. But I kinda want strings this time…