The Inconsistancy of Change

If I were to step out of my body and observe myself from a different perspective I would imagine feeling dumbfounded at how someone can possibly go from sane to paranoid, then finally to borderline depressed. The last one might have been a bit stretched, but it was a good way of implying how crazy and absurd I've been acting. Over the time span of three days starting from Tuesday night, I have some how managed to peak the scale of mellow dramatic. That being said, I find it necessary to blog out all the nonsense that I've been feeling, in hopes of justifying my ludicrous actions. The next hour or so will be dedicated to the distressed conveyance of my fears, actions, and downright obscenity.

Somehow, during my most erratic hours, I managed to indulge in three mugs of French vanilla coffee and enough cookies to feed a small third world country. It's embarrassing, even to myself, to realize how miserable I am about the ever-increasing status of my weight; yet I never cease to think about food, especially when I'm feeling like I'm at the lowest point in my life. I risked my life and body to take my dog on a walk at three in the morning to a park where, to date, two gun fights, one murder, three rapes and countless skinned knees (to say the least) have occurred. I don't know how I got back alive and unharmed. I probably was suffering from a severe case of hysteria and in reality did lead myself into danger but traumatized myself so much that I ended up with amnesia, thus causing me to forget the events taking place from when I stepped out of my house to when I finally settled back into bed. My thought now is: if only that could happen for the events of the last six months.

I know change is inevitable. I just wish that I were a lot more open to new things. When I say "open" I really mean I wish that I were a lot braver to face and adjust to new things. Is it asking to much that I simply want to stay in the state that makes me happy and comfortable? Why does change have to be so scary? Yes I understand that change can sometimes be fun. I wouldn't argue with that. New clothes, new hair, new food, new CAR??? All completely good examples of change...and also all completely obtainable with money. I guess what I'm really afraid of is those priceless, unpredictable, and life-affecting changes.

I have certain fears, one of them being change and the other, sadness. What I'm guessing is that I'm afraid of change because it might lead to sadness. However, if I don't take the leap of faith, how will I ever know? I might never reach complete satisfaction if I refuse to move on. I think it's time to take into consideration what's good for me, and what is just completely a waste of my time. I should trust in faith, the problem is, sometimes it's a bit difficult to rely on such an intangible source. I need to be strong. I need to grow a pair of balls and finally rip off that damn band aid. So my wounds will be exposed, so what? Wounds heal, but time can never be replaced. I should take as much as I can from this and move on. I should do that, but I don't want to.

What I want to do is go running into my mom's skirt, crying and begging for her to take me away from all of this. I would love to get away. Maybe once I'm away from all the chaos, I would finally be able to get my life back in order, because to be honest, I'm scared. No, I'm terrified. What if there isn't anything better out there for me? What if I've been wasting my time on nothing? What if I'm LOST??? I tried seeking help. It pains me that my mom is unable to help me these days with my problems, but I understand that everyone has their own problems to deal with (some more important than others). I did spend some quality time with a good friend over coffee (or whatever that water-based decaffeinated shit was) and, of course, cookies. However, I didn't feel comforted so much as I was the one who did the comforting, so I sought the help of two old friends both of whom I was once very close with. The problem was one of them was busy and the other was of no help whatsoever. Which made me realize how over the past six months, I have become so engulfed in my new life, that I have completely forgotten that my old friends have feelings too, and they still care about me...Well at least they did until I decided to become to busy for them.

I should try taking a step back. I now realize that I have been too self-absorbed with myself that I have forgotten the effect I have on others. Looking back over the past three days I have indeed become a little less sensible and a lot more irrational. Although the feelings I felt were legitimate, the actions I took were far from that. I should try considering the fact that I will never be able to grow if I refuse to accept change and pain. Shit happens, and I just have to deal with it. The problem is, I'm loving this chapter of my life too much and I don't want to turn the page.

Dust Bunnies and Memories

It's that time of year that we all dread, yet some of us welcome it with open arms and a dust pan. Spring Cleaning is here, and along with it comes stress, mood swings, and long lost memories. Upon sorting through my childhood and teenage years, I recovered: a guitar (hardly ever used, but rescued in hopes that I will one day become a rock star), notes written from friends (filled with inside jokes that make me feel so out of the loop now, not understanding any of them), wallet-sized couple pictures (half of them from people I don't even talk to or like anymore), a couple knick knacks from my shallow elementary school days, broken relationships (which led to broken hearts), and two or three things that I feel I would actually use.

As I'm sitting here however (itchy from all the upturned dust), I can't help but to think about all these memories that I recovered. Over summer, when I was remodeling my room, I threw all of the junk that I couldn't care less for into my brother's old, vacant room. At the time I knew it was useless, yet I still was unable to part with it. Now, three seasons later, I still can't find the courage to throw my past away. I simply store it somewhere until I find the time and mindset to actually deal with it.

I guess in a sense there is no throwing away of my past. No matter how hard I try, I either end up not wanting to, or not being able to. I tried shoving it into a vacant room, but it's all still there. I could try moving away, but it would still be here. I could try giving it away, but it would still be there. Somewhere. It's like that shit we learned in chemistry. How matter is neither created nor destroyed. Not exactly the same concept...but close enough.

Meanwhile...

I've been thinking about how things just aren't the same anymore. I shouldn't be surprised, because it's not like I was expecting a smooth ride all the way, but I didn't expect this rocky stage to be filled with so much...apathy. Maybe it's just me. Maybe I really am the demanding little girl that he says I am. Maybe I do complain too much. I don't know, whatever the case is, I can't say or do anything about it because it would simply justify his points and make me look like a bitch. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but I'm sensing too much absence and not enough fondness.

I guess some of us just don't realize the time strain. Soon time will run out and in its place will be a huge distance. About eight hundred miles to be exact. I don't know. Maybe I should just let it be? Maybe I should cool off? Maybe I shouldn't care so much (I mean really, I'm the only one that does care). Maybe I should...give up?

Oh hell, I don't even know what I'm saying. I have a million thoughts running through my head and they all just morph into a huge cloud of confusion. But really, what the hell am I waiting around for? I feel like I'm trying for nothing. I feel empty and also that everything I have is empty. I hate being judged, but I can't help that. It just sucks to know that even the person you love is also judging you, critiquing your every action in hopes of making you into "a better human being". I feel like I'm not good enough.

Well if I'm not good enough at home, and I'm not good enough at school, and I'm not good enough for him than what the hell is the fucking point? What happened to those days when I was beautiful, smart, and funny? When there just wasn't enough of me for him, and he actually thought about me? I miss being cared about. I miss feeling safe, and knowing that I had a sense of belonging. What can I do though? I guess I have to understand that all things come and go, I better appreciate them while they're here cause they sure as hell aren't going to last.

Now I'm angry and hurt from dealing with apathy and...nothing. I hate nothing. It sucks because there's nothing to justify, and nothing to yell at. I'm hurt, I'm tired of crying myself to sleep. I realized that I get tired after I cry and today, I am exhausted.

But that might just be from all the spring cleaning. I should take a shower. I'm still itchy from being attacked by the dust bunnies. Of course when I'm uncomfortable I get cranky so that might just be it.

Fucking dust bunnies...