I’ve never realised how much I talked until I found someone who listened. I guess before I always listened instead of talked, and I was regarded as someone who was quiet, timid because of that. But when I talked, I talked. Non-stop. I could talk to you until your ears fell off, I could talk for hours and hours on end, with just a few sips of water in between.
I haven’t written much lately, and that’s probably because I hadn’t been feeling at all. Nothing felt right, as I put a pen to the paper. It felt forced, I felt as though I was telling myself what I was supposed to feel instead of what I was actually feeling. The feeling of nothing. You never realise you feel nothing until you feel something again.
That spark of happiness, pain, anger, ignites inside you again, and you wonder how you managed not to feel anything. And I guess the reason we hurt ourselves is because we want to be reminded of what feeling, feels like. To remember that we’re human and how we once were. Because feeling pain is better than feeling nothing. Being empty and wondering what on earth was wrong. Because all you hear is that hollow thump thump in your chest instead of excited squeals or cries that your heart emits when you feel.
And god damn does it feel good to feel again. To break a smile to thin air, to look like a psychopath whilst thinking about things that make me happy. To talk to people, and feel fulfilled after conversations with them. To actually write what I actually feel. It’s been a damn while. To have people who listen, and people who care is one of the most important things. You don’t have to posses the ability to fix problems, because not all problems have a solution, but them knowing that your presence is a choice, not an obligation is the first key step to being there for anyone. And it makes me smile, that I have people like that in my life. People who listen, people who care, and people who are always there for me.
And I promise forever and always to be there for you too.
I’ve built up courage to tell people about things they could probably hold against me. I’ve given some people access to it, to know about my life in words. To hold the knife against my neck and keep it there.
I told myself, they can wield the knife to kill but only if I give them my neck, and I want to believe that there’s no issue in showing the people I love around me this part of my life. I was opening up. Trying to show people a part of me that I’d always been scared to show. My wounds. My scars. My life.
But when I speak to people, I have to be cautious. This was the one place, where I didn’t have to watch what I was saying because it was my hideout. It was my safe zone. It was a secret. Somehow, I feel that I have to be more cautious now, think about the consequences of my writing and wait for these people to look me the in eye and run their knives across my neck.
But I can forgive them, because they do it without realising. Without realising the consequences of what they inflict upon me. I’m not sure how to put this without sounding ungrateful. I cherish the people around me highly, I love them and will forever be loyal to them but my feelings aren’t stories for you to read. It’s my feelings, my most treasured feelings. I don’t want to be asked if it was about you, I don’t want to be told that you feel sad because I felt this way. I felt this way once upon a time. That is true, but I don’t feel that way now.
I write to set these feelings aside, and when I’m ready I let the world see what I overcame. My problems are a fleeting occurrence, which soon go because new emotions overtake it.
Letting go isn’t easy. It will never be. If you’ve genuinely loved someone, you’ll understand. Your life depends on it and you enter denial when you come to realise.
It’s easier said than done, but it can be done. It’s not impossible. It takes time and persistence to let go. Persistence and a constant reminder of why.
You’ll miss them, but you learn to live with it. Eventually you come to understand that you need to let it go. It’s poison to your blood. Fire to your veins.
Letting go is for the best.
The cold is numbing. I like the numbing pain that the cold brings, it numbs my soul the way it numbs my toes. It makes me feel nothing and I like it.
Feeling nothing for a while isn’t a bad thing, just temporarily though. Feeling nothing means you have time to rest from everything around you and think about what you’d like to feel instead of feeling things that people tell you to feel.
It’s a bit hot in England right now. Especially where I live, it’s making me sit in just sweat and it’s not pleasant. I’ve always preferred the cold to the heat. A lot of people disagree, but it’s just so much more satisfying when you’re cold and you warm up than when you’re hot and waiting to not be sticky anymore.
When you’re hot, you’re just hot and you can’t do much about it unless you have a fan or air conditioning. However, when you’re cold you can hope under your covers or add a few more layers. It’s just a lot more convenient.
The cold is my warmth. Ironically.
Silence vs. Sound. Which one do I exactly like? I like both, in different circumstances. It’s not absolute, I don’t love one of them and hate the other. I like both, I appreciate both.
Everything in life is balanced between their opposites. You must learn to like and appreciate the both. Just like silence and sound. It takes us a while to adjust, but I guess I like a bit of both. I enjoy the silence because it lets my mind breathe, and gives me myself to talk to, a bit of bonding with yourself is essential, to me at least. However, I enjoy the fun and rowdiness of noise. It makes it seem like I’m not alone, I enjoy being with my friends and the laughter it creates. If I truly have any friends.
Balancing between the both for me, is essential since too much of one is intoxicating and doesn’t really do me a favour. Sometimes I need less of one than the other, and that’s perfectly fine because that’s just what I need for that particular day. Not a 50/50 balance, maybe a 20/80 split is just enough to make me happy.
So, recently I’ve been feeling down, and to try and counteract that I’ve been thinking about things that make me happy. I thought that if I wrote down things that made me happy, it’d make me, well… happier. I’ve been thinking about this quite a bit, to see the light amidst everything bad. Trying to give myself hope that maybe one day things will get better.
Things never go the way I want them to, and I’m very emotional. My emotions are like the ocean, any movement and it can cause a wave. Even if I don’t like to admit it, it’s true. I’m very fragile.
It’s more about the little things really, more than the big things. I’d say I’m pretty good at concealing my emotions and acting like I’m okay, but most of the time I’m not. I just want to be with people that genuinely love and care about me.
So, about my feelings and things I like. I decided to start a mini series about things I like and write about them. I think I might do a series of things that make me sad too, to make myself feel more comfortable about me talking about my sadness and what makes me sad because I’ve always felt like it was a bad thing to keep it concealed and hidden, but it’s what I’m used too and I doubt that will ever change. But I’m trying to change, to make myself happier.
Sometimes I feel as though I don’t deserve the things that other people have, because I’m ungrateful, cruel and just undeserving of things.
I don’t deserve the friendship that I see other people have, and I don’t deserve the love others have. That makes me sad sometimes, just sometimes. I have to lie, hide and act like a criminal even when I see no wrong in my actions. I don’t know if I should live like this, sometimes I feel on the high when I’m with the people I love and want in my life but sometimes I feel down and compare.
Comparing is a dangerous thing, it makes its way into our hearts and sows its seed until it becomes a black rose and leaves thorns behind to mark its territory because even if it seems like you’ve plucked the rose and its gone, the pain is still there and it makes us cruel and dark. I sometimes feel like that, I feel sad and dull at the same time. I can’t express it in any other way, I can’t tell people because the words get stuck in my mouth and honestly, it doesn’t feel any better once I’ve told someone because it feels as though someone has tried to pull thorn out and now its bleeding endlessly. It hurts and I feel like crying a lot of the time, but I try to be happy with the people around me who love me.
I don’t deserve anything, I wonder too hard about what I’ve done wrong and how I can be better instead of loving what I have and cherishing the moments that are around me. I get jealous and then I become the wicked girl that I dread, but I can’t do anything about it but let the wicked girl that lives inside me breathe for a while, whilst I die a little each time inside.