After having my small mini melt down earlier today I had to take a step back and breath.
I had to remember that 8 years ago today. I tried to commit suicide. I know not such a lovely memory is it ? Well its is a part of my past and it happened. I have the scar on my wrist to prove my ignorance. Over. Love.
I was 19. Depressed. Drunk. Lonely. My ex boyfriend was sending me nasty text messages that he never loved me and all that mean stuff one says. I thought then that was it for me. I remember it through my drunken haze. The blood dripping cold of my finger tips hitting the floor of my living room. The awful scream my mother made when she found me. We have never talked about it. What is there to talk about? I cleaned up my mess and as usual apologized for my actions. Moved on.
I have moved on from my ex believe me. We are friends, civil and I wish him the best. What I haven’t moved on from, is that my ignorance and pain still haunts me. it will always haunt me because I bare the scars.
Now with my current boyfriend he doesn’t like this holiday period and thinks its stupid and hates it so much that he in away hates buying anything because its money to the businesses. I understand. I don’t ask for much. Do I like gifts? Yes. Of course who doesn’t? But I agree with him that I don’t need a fucking holiday to have him show me he loves me.
It is insane that things are the way that they are for me. I didn’t think it was going to be like this. I wouldn’t have dreamed of this. But here I am. And here I am living. That is something I should be more proud of actually. I was trying to end my life today 8 years ago. But here I am. Back in the house I tried. Trying to woo my boyfriend to hopefully put a ring my finger and make me his wife.
Its just the things I think of late at night when I have work in the morning and been drinking. Isn’t funny?
Typically writing on a new piece of paper has always been so much easier than writing on a blank slate of a computer. Why? Because for me just writing anything down can be a tedious task. I feel I have altered and mastered the task of pure procrastination. And yet here I am again. I also have a tendency of always starting out great say with a new journal or writing a blog or something. I start out sweet and good and writing a lot then it starts to dwindle down and die fade out like it never even mattered in the first place. I always carry a journal with me (or a book.) I write down what I feel at times or I ignore it. They say that writing can heal you. Damn really? I have been writing off and on since I was 11 years old and I feel quite damaged still. Damaged why you say? Because we, all humans are flawed, and slightly broken. We are wounded but not that wounded. We are survivors of life and we still march on like soldiers. So I am sure most people do an introduction of who they are and such. Me? I am as of today 25 years old. A woman who is tied up in the media (socially as well) and what you are supposed to look like with body image. I enjoy reading, though I am picky on what I read, mostly mystery thrillers, or true crime. I do enjoy poetry and have a fondness for Sylvia Plath. I feel that her and I would have been friends if I was born in the same era as her. Also our writing is about the same. The same feel for the neurotic flavors. Depression is quite the nasty blanket that I and so many others share and have wrapped so tightly that it feel like we are all suffocating at the same time. But that is for another post. I have in fact graduated college with a degree that seems now quite useless because the field that I have studied was law and they want you to have experience. How else does one gain experience if you are not given the change too? It is such a messed up situation. I know I am intelligent and not from my GPA either.(If anyone was wondering it was 3.8 but not bragging rights here.) I am a sleuth of my own accord and enjoy the challenge. Sometimes my detective skills almost scare me but not really. If you have internet access and the patience you could just be as good as a FBI agent. Too bad these skills haven’t gotten me INTO the FBI. I am more likely to get a visit from an agent and being question for the history of my computer. (lucky for me I am smart enough to use my boyfriends….lucky for me bad for him HA!) As you can see dear reader I also try to be funny. It might be dry humor it might be dark humor. Or just down right retarded. Or this is just lack of real communication and I am simply out of coffee.
Lately I have also been trying to channel my inner girly girl-ness. I went through a tomboy stage only because my weight made me judge myself on matters that I felt like I didn’t fit into being all girly girl. Now that I have lost weight (also weight problems shall be a good chunk of my life/writing/pain/hate/self-hate/etc ) and I look really GIRLY with curves and a pretty face (some would say that is always been a feature like my smile.) and nice cloths I just feel like it’s really not me. Yes I love shoes, and handbags and all things that small. But some days I just want to wake up and throw on shorts and a tank top without being gocked at. It happens. I also wear yoga pants or yoga capris all the time because I am simply a lazy human being. Flip flops are my shoes of choice I wear them up till its bitter cold out and my toes turn blue. My feet need to breathe. (To quote Abraham Lincoln!) My boyfriend thinks its funny and hates I wear clogs in the winter. I hate how he never wears flip-flops or nice polo but I love him just the same in our weird crazy relationship we have.
I just want to be able to write and get my thoughts out there. I know that it’s really hard having a writing career but it’s always been a dream of mine. Granted love that line ‘dream big’ we can always dream and dream whatever either that or sometimes your dreams are nightmares. I sometimes you have to understand the difference from reality and not. I was told a lot that being a writer is just a fluke if you make it and that it can be a total waste of time. Ok I get it. So what its a dream? So like I said before I already have my degree in something that is supposed to be professional, and yet no luck. So Why not just chase that dream?
Maybe this time I will stick with it and not give up like I always do. I need something to keep me stable since this time in my life it’s almost hitting rock bottom and I am too young to fee this old.