“My Life Is Unmanageable And I’d Like To Share It With You.”

“Some people care too much. I think it’s called love.”

— A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

get out

I don’t like to shake. I don’t know why I always do.  Maybe it’s my heart or my asthma.  Either way I’d like to fix it.

It’s sad he got kicked out, but it makes me understand why I haven’t heard from him.  Mom was sweet offering our couch to him.  He’s got a lot going on inside.  He tries to hide it, but I see it.

Whyyy don’t you text me?

I didn’t expect you to reply, but it was nice talking to you.

God interviens right at the perfect time, which is good but not very much fun for little wild children.

I still don’t get you.  I know that I could get you talking if I really wanted to, but one, I don’t want to do things the way I used to; I like it happenstance, that way, it’s not my fault; and two, if I am too bold, it’s a temptation for him to revert to his insticntive boyish way, which is not what I need right now.  So, I’ll let him to the talking.  It makes things really slow but it’s me being somewhat careful.  So, we’ll see.

I need to stop looking at your pictures.  They can be infectious.

I want to, but I don’t feel like explaining myself, and they will see it.

Old friend, maybe I’ll give oneee more try.

I wonder if I’m strong enough to continue these friendships.  I don’t believe she’s changed.  I think she’d maybe think twice about doing it again but that wouldn’t be enough to stop her.  At first, going back was absolutely unthinkable.  The thought of it was sickening.  Then, I gave it a try.  It was still really hard but I bit my lip swallowed my pride and did it.  It was easier on everyone.  So for a little while, I just tried my very best to forget it ever happened.  That worked for about two months.  But it’s back again.  It gets worse everyday.  Sometimes such hatred boils beneath my skin that I never want to see her or anyone that reminds me of her ever again.  Which may not sound like a big deal but it is, to me at least.  He was wrong as well, but I have to remember he was single and half way convinced we wouldn’t get back together.  It was wrong for him to go after a friend of mine, but she threw herself at him.  But, how could they?  I laid sick in bed for months and they had a hay day faking love because I wasn’t around to give it.  After everything I've done for them, after everything we’ve been through.  I’m a pretty shady person, but I would never, ever, do that to anyone.  This has changed me.  It’s made me crazy.  My outlook on what’s “okay” and what’s not is twisted.  I feel that no matter what I do it will not add up to what they do.  Therefore, ruthless wrecklessness is as good as innocence to me.  I lie, because it them who took my truth and used it against me.  When I’m alone I convince myself that payback will make me feel better.  Maybe one day it will but so far that hasn’t worked.  And what’s wild is that they still have the nerve to speak to eachother in front of me.  God knows what they do when they have a few minutes alone, though I do my best to make sure that never happens.  After what they did to me, they are still comfortable speaking?  They should be ashamed.  They should feel awful for even glancing in eachother direction.  Anyway, my point is the way I live life now, I will never be able to escape them.  And I’m beginning to wonder how much longer I can stand this.  It’s madness.  It’s making me mad.  And the only solutions would drastically change everything I’ve ever known.  I hate you.

Maybe, everything is okay and I’m just thinking too much.  Trying to find a problem so that I can runaway again.  One of the songs he wrote a while ago said, “you runaway like you’ve got nothing to lose”.  I know that his last name makes me lucky to be associated with him in some places and he’s crazy talented but am I better than this?  Am I better than the way I’ve been treated by him and his family?  Part of me says I deserve less and wants no one.  The other part is convince I need something else.  Someone else.  He doesn’t hear me.  He doesn’t take me seriously.  He makes fun of the things I love, writing, my music, etc.  He thinks I owe him so much, and maybe I do but he’s such a pusher.  I’m not stupid.  But then theres how cute he is, how smart he is, just the way he is, I love it.  We’ve fought so hard for this, why throw it all away?  He swears to love me, and I swear the same but I just want to know what’s right, what’s best.

I wish I could move out without offending my parents.  I’m beginning to think I need it.

I’m beginning to have trouble breathing again.

stay, good girl.

I hate her so much.  Yet, she’s my “best friend”.  Best friends do not do what she did to me.  Best friends don’t treat eachother like I treat her.  But then again, nothing in my life ever goes as planned.

School tomorrow, then work.  I like to keep busy.  Idle time is the devil’s candyshop.  Or something like that.

Brandon, my boyfriend, has been acting different.  Well, come to think of it, maybe I’m the only one acting different.  Having people constantly remind me that him and I don’t go together makes it hard to remain stable in the relationship.  They say he’s controlling and doesn’t respect who I am.  What do they know, right?

I cut myself shaving earlier.  It felt great.

Let’s hope I can stay in my bed tonight.

Absence makes my heart forget.

Out of sight, out of mind. 

I am getting bored though.  It’s time to spice things up a bit. 

He acts like I have him under some kind of spell.  Perhaps, it’s because I let him believe he has one over me.  But, he doesn’t have anything on me.  I not fourteen anymore.  I can stand my own ground.  The way he touches my face makes me think he wishes things were different.  It’s an on going chase.  I let him get close, then sprint ahead.  I don’t know why I’ve let it go on this long.  I’ll get around to ending it at some point I’m sure.

I want to move out.  I don’t like lying to my parents, but I want to do what I want, ya dig?  Yeah. 

He’s extremely hard to read.  For a day or so I was thinking he could be gay.  But oh no, he is most definitely not.

Well, I smell like fried rice.

connect

Tonight my rich friend Jenn was supposed to do her buy with Big Sam. She said she wasn’t feeling well and the bank wouldn’t let her withdrawal the remaining 700$she needed in order to have the full amount. Jessie notified Sam and he his so pissed. Jess said we might have lost a good connect over this. He is definitely a good person to have on your side but they come and go. I doubt I’ll feel the same way when it the time come that I need something. We rescheduled for tomorrow. That should make us about 175$. I hope she gets me this job. 11.50$ an hour is really good for me. Especially considering it’ll be a normal 9-5 job. I’m meeting Jenn when she gets off work at Pat’s and were going to hang out there until the boys get off work. She’s seven years older than me and calls me her “bestie”. I never quite liked that word. I wonder if she’s sure of my age. I suppose I seem mature to her somehow? I’m not though, just old souled. Dear God, please keep Jessie out of jail. Thank you. I love you, amen. I’ve been speeding about five nights a week at Jessie’s. I’ve really started to get comfortable with the long term idea. I just want to wait until I have a job. I don’t like having to ask Jess for money every time I want something, which is unfortunately often. I just got an idea, love you bye.

“Never bend your head. Hold it high. Look the world straight in the eye.”

— Helen Keller

Let's give this one more try.

My last tumblr was abrubtly exposed my a friend of mine’s mother.  She’s always in their business.  So to avoid any nonsense about things I had written I deleted mine as soon as she started questioning it.  My friend and her sister stopped using it. They didn’t see any point in it with their mother checking up on it everyday.  I’ve given it a while to cool down and so far I’ve seen no sign of her or them here.  So, I signed on to a new tumblr.  Hi.  Needless to say, I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.

envy

I’m so selfish, I know. I don’t ask for much, really. Just time, your time. All I do is work and anticipate your arrival. It’s not your fault that I require so much. I wish you could see what I see. I am grateful, of course, for the joy I’ve found in being in a relationship with you. Physically, and emotionally. I see you so occupied. I long for some type of fulfilment, other than your touch. I am old enough now to know that giving someone all of myself leaves me with not much to work with. I get so frustrated because I really know no other way. It’s all or nothing. Love or hate. Yours or mine. I’ve never been very good at sharing my attention, not that I have anyone I need/want to share it with. I know I’m just sitting here alone, feeling sorry for myself but damn. I need something else in my life. I can’t rely so much on him. I can’t rely on a substance for entertainment. I can only write for so long about so much. Sometimes I want to get away from myself. Escape. To where? I don’t know. What do I need to escape from, though? I have a happy relationship, nine months clean, loving parents, a job, a home. What more could I ask for? What am I even looking for? I know I need to attend more meetings. I have told myself that anything I have to say is too intimate for the public that is Narcotics Anonymous. So, I go and sit in silence. Although competent and content, it just isn’t enough. I will feel better in the morning. I always do. I could sit here and sulk all night. I am blessed with the money I’m making this week. I am blessed with the upcoming opportunity to start a new medication with 90% success rate. While nervous and almost reluctant, it is a blessing. I just pray my insurance will cover it. There is no way I’ll be able to afford it otherwise. It’s something that keeps me up at night. I don’t want you to be afraid of me. I want to touch and be touched, without having to think twice. I haven’t said much the past few months. I tried to make myself write on paper. I am better. I just suddenly became so frustrated I didn’t want to get off the couch. I want to feel like I am saying this all to someone other than myself. That’s just it. I want someone to say this to. Someone who wants to hear about my day. I want to hear about their day. My boyfriend does all this for me but it seems I need another outlet. He had so many people looking up to him. So many people that want to hear what he has to say. He shares his attention with me and the many others in his life. So, when he is spending time thinking of others I lay inches away from him patiently waiting to be at the top of the list for a few more minutes. He is everything I need and more. I don’t deserve him or what he does for me. I just feel, I don’t know, alone. And that is fucked up. I live with the most remarkable human being I’ve ever met and I still find myself making “accidental” movements just so he will look my way. Maybe that’s love, maybe it’s obsession, either way it’s there and I must find my own way of making the most of what he is to me. In the end, I think I’m just envious of him and his time. He is so praised in our community, he loves and is loved. I, by choice, am as far back in the shadows as one can exist, all things considered. I don’t know how to interact normal. Fearless and delighted. Furthermore, who doesn’t want attention from their significant other? Sociopaths. I’m beginning to ramble so let me just tell you what has been going on. I moved out of the halfway house and got an apartment with my seemingly heaven sent boyfriend. I am a few days short of nine months clean. I am being promoted at work. I have began to seek treatment for the damage I did to myself while using. I was asked to speak at a fundraiser which may not sound like a big deal but it has been a milestone in my life for the maturity I am having to take on. Running out of excused for misbehaving. My family is a wreck but they love and accept me, as I do them. My eyes are beginning to burn.

sponsor

So, I got a new sponsor. Her instructions were clear. She wants me to call her everyday for thirty days. She also wants me to write her a letter stating what I expect to get out of sponsorship. I’ve thought about it and all I can seem to come up with is what I’ve heard in the rooms. I hope to have someone who has more sense/wisdom than me to come to with issues in my life. I hope to become more aware of myself and who I am. I hope to become more comfortable with myself. I hope to learn to help others the way I’ve been helped. I hope to stay clean. I hope to grow. That all sounds good, right? What else? I don’t know.

“I’m not the person you left behind anymore. There’s no one here to miss.”

— Iain Thomas, I Wrote This For You