It’s so sad how I allow myself to become everything it is that I hate to be. I don;t mean to do it; at times I almost question if it’s in my fucking blood. No, I can change into who it is I want to be. Or so I tell myself, hoping for better times and better habits. It’s not as if all my actions are lead with bad intentions, it’s just that I have a hard time keeping my better half in mind. I am the deepest of sympathies, holding those who hurt so deeply in my heart. I feel for those among me that are shallow from their being. I hold it in my heart to make them feel better with me, for I hurt as true as them. What a joke it is to attempt at life different from the one bred. Thou one may stand aside from such shallow liveliness, one is still bred from such being. Wrong from right and right from wrong, how will one stand? Alone? Or uniting with the broken.
Give it a minute
You really just need to let it sink in; give it a moment of time to let it penetrate what’s real. You want more? Go and get more. Things suck? Go and change them. Who am I to pity myself, when I sit here hating somebody that is just as I am. To sit and wallow in a misery that is just that itself; well that my friend, is sad. I know sadness when I see it, and this is way past broken and way past being sad. I’m finally seeing things for what they really are, whatever that may be.
There can be no change until one becomes accepting of change. Mistakes tend to repeat when actions goes unchanged; this all makes so much sense. It sucks to have a clouded mind that becomes washed with clarity all at once. One can’t help but feel stupid and taunted by the simple matters. Whatever, I can get past this. I’m strong and I allowed myself to believe so much less than that. Here’s to reincarnation bitch
Urge
There’s this feeling deep inside of me pushing me to speak; to say anything on my mind. Nobody is here to listen, even when I’m surrounded with others. I shouldn’t say that with such neglect, because realistically I have more ears than I do words. It’s just that I can’t even hear myself think, I can’t even find a solid thought to go on.
I’m right back where I was, right where I didn’t want to be. But realistically I haven’t changed at all, nothing has. I need to find it within myself to move on from the things that are holding me back. I need to learn to let go of the things that lead me to regret and shame. I ask myself why I feel so astray; so out of my mind with where I should go. The answer is within and I’ve known it all along. I’m punishing myself here and doing what I can to get by. This is no life I want to live; no day I want to pass again.
I will be different, I will change my ways. I need to learn to be strong and to be myself; to own up to the things that I want in life.
When is it enough?
I ask myself again and again why I don’t just grow a pair and leave. By now, I’ve been smacked in the face with a million reasons why I should go; yet for some reason I always find it in my little heart to stay. He used to make me happy, he used to hold me when I cried. I remember this specific time, back when we first started dating, things were really terrible with my moms drug use. I was hosting a graduation party for one of my best friends who was too busy bitching to even notice me broken. John followed me upstairs and held me for hours as I cried in his arms. I knew I loved him then, when he held me at my weakest. Maybe I have been mistaking comfort for love all of this time.
I always ask him, “Why do you love me?” When he does choose to reply, because half of the time he blatantly ignores the fact that I’m speaking, I get a simple “Because I do.” He always just pushes the question aside and tells me that he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t love me. But I know that is untrue, because I’m sitting here having already fallen out of love. But yet, I am still here.
Last week, I woke up feeling hopeful towards our relationship. I thought, you know what? Maybe it is me, maybe I’m being a little too careless and mean to him. Maybe all he wants is some attention, to know that I’m thinking of him; to know that I love him. So I wake him up, ask him to tickle his back. He leaves, I WALK a mile to the dollar store to buy sticky notes. I spend the next hour and a half writing the things I love about him on theses gay fucking little sticky notes. THEN I spend another fucking hour shaping the damn things into a heart, and another half an hours trying to get the stupid thing to stick to the door.
I anxiously awaited his arrival, picturing the moment his eyes would meet my thoughtful gesture. I hoped he would sit down and read each little note, smiling more with each kind thing I wrote. Instead, all he had to say was that I was queer, just like my fucking sticky note heart. He read five of the notes, because after an hour of watching it sit on the door untouched, I burst out into a fit of anger. He knew he fucked up, so he promised to read one everyday at least.
A week went by and he didn’t fucking touch it, so I tore the thing down and tossed it in the trash.
He didn’t notice for two days and when I finally snuck in a snide comment about it’s absence, he shrugged it off as if I did him a favor. Jokes on me guys.
I’m so tired of feeling less than good enough
less than strong enough
less than big enough
for someone as small as you
I’m so exhausted with being more ambitious than you
more focused than you
more brightened with life than you
I’m tired of being with you
Something deep within me urges me to stray
Wander farther than your comfort zone
Run as fast as you can, take yourself far away
Do you have any idea how to stand on your own?
Curiousity
There’s this persistent urge deep within myself, pushing me to get away from everything that I’m comfortable with now. I want to venture outwards, and meet people who love the same exact that I love my very self. Being submerged around somebody that is so different from me, is becoming the most difficult task to deal with. Today I met people that are so much like me, and they’re drawing me to them without even knowing it. I feel this need to be around them, because I can see them glowing the same colors that I am.
I am just passionate about growing, and that is something I am not doing here. I am so stuck, and I need to get out. So I have a chance at being myself.
The real deal
I’m finding that there’s something unmistakably absent from the relationship I’m settling for. Feeling like you’re without a place to call home, makes walking away that much more difficult. It’s almost as though a part of me has already left, which makes me feel guilty. Then another part of me is saying “fight, you don’t give up on things that you want; they’re not supposed to be easy.” But no matter how many times I try to rationalize leaving him, or should I say staying with him, I end up stuck in the same boat, floating down a river I’m going to have to swim back up.
It’s like there’s just something missing. I ask myself if it was ever even there to begin with. There’s no connection, no need to fuel each others fires. Unless of course they’re raging fires of fury. The respect we have for each other is more than lacking, and I can say without being bias, sometimes I’m even worse.
I just want more than I’m being offered. And I don’t know if I’m wrong for wanting to go looking elsewhere. Is love something you fight for, or is it something that happens once you choose to stop fighting?
I want breakfast
So this morning I woke John up just a tad abruptly… But I was in serious need of a greasy breakfast. Every morning we wake up, lay in bed for two hours, and end up eating breakfast at the time most normal people would be eating a late lunch. I just don’t get it… Why would you even eat breakfast at that point, most breakfast places aren’t even open.
This morning, I demanded change. All I wanted was to be served a bottomless cup of coffee, some damn good hash browns and sausage links; not patties. But no, instead we will starve.
Repeat
Once again I find myself here.. Typing away; hitting delete, typing some more, selecting all and then erasing. It’s like there’s this brick wall standing between me and my creative side. I know what’s behind that brick wall.. I was the person that put it there. Now that I want to be able to touch it again, I’m realizing I have no tools to knock the wall down.
I’ve looked, trust me. I’ve spent hours searching for words that simply are just not there. I no longer can put my frustrations, haunting memories, and eager desires into words. Rather, they just sit in a tangled mess behind my eyes; eating away at whatever brain cells I seem to have left.
I refuse to give up, I remember this being important to me, yet I can’t remember how I once came to that conclusion. This was a part of me, my writing; a way of survival so to speak. These past few years were rough for me, I became sidetracked and worn-out. I packed 10 pounds of stress onto each of my shoulders, and filled my head up with enough crazies to make a sane person seem like a schizophrenic. Sitting here now, I realize that I let go of the one release I found.
No wonder I’m going insane, talking to myself, back and forth. How can I sort out something when I’m just going over it in my head, over it, and over it. I need to sort things out on paper, I need to reach inside of myself and really search for my true feelings. If anyone knows Tarissa, it’s Tarissa. Tarissa the queen of impulse.
My impulses became worse when I stopped doing the things that kept me grounded. So here’s another desperate attempt at relighting the flame that used to burn so bright.
The Game of Life 