I want to write about how terrible I think you are. This is for more than just you, there’s a couple of yous. And I want to express how horrendous I think each of you are. I want to write about the actions you committed. And the actions you didn’t commit. How miserable you made me feel. I want to write about it all. Every detail. Every disgusting inch of it. Everything that makes me want to hate you, yous. But I won’t. Because I’m terrible too. And that’s what terrible people get, they get other terrible people.

No one knows anything about me. As much as it’s refreshing, it’s pretty depressing.

It’s weird. Knowing that everyone you meet in your life makes an impact, whether it’s a huge impact, or something as small as introducing you to a band you’ve grown to love.

There’s a handful of people I’ve wished I’ve never crossed paths with. A handful of people I’ve hated myself for letting me get too close to. A handful of people I’ve stayed up at night crying over. A handful of people who turned me into the girl I’ve never wanted to be. A handful of people who made the brightest days feel like the darkest days.

But then, it’s that handful of people that you owe the most to. The handful of people that without them you wouldn’t learn. You wouldn’t learn some of life’s biggest lessons without them. And it’s that handful of people that you owe the greatest thank you to.

You’ll never be happy, if you’re constantly searching for something to be unhappy about.

I learned that the hard way, unfortunately. No matter how many times I would laugh, and smile, and feel at peace during any particular day, I would allow myself to drown into these unbearable thoughts. These thoughts would rip right through me and felt consequently like a heart breaking slowly. No matter what these thoughts had to deal with: boys, work, school, parents, money, insecurities, anything. I would find something that would utterly and horribly turn my happiness into something unbearable. I forced these hideous thoughts upon myself and never allowed myself to be truly happy with anything or anyone. 

I’ve had plenty of relationships with people. Different types of people. Some incredibly amazing, and some so horrible, I hate to think I associated myself with them. However, my thoughts did not allow me to separate the two types of people I’ve met. The amazing people were also the horrible people. And the horrible people were also the amazing people. I dug myself into that rut because if I met someone so wonderful, I would quickly have these terrible tendencies to imagine a totally unrealistic or out of character judgment that didn’t allow me to totally accept and appreciate the overall greatness of these certain people. It didn’t matter to me if you were so genuine or absolutely cruel; I made up some excuse in my head to not allow myself to be “burdened” with total comfort and happiness.  I shy myself away from total happiness, because I am afraid of forever. Afraid of allowing another human being to be my main source of happiness.

I forced this loneliness upon myself that never allowed me to be content with another person. I’ll admit, I am guilty of pretending to be happy with another person. Many of times, actually most of times. There has been something trapped inside of me that has told me not to let my guard down, to not totally enjoy myself with another person and to not allow myself to get wrapped up into another soul. But then I would complain. I would complain and complain about being so terribly alone in this world. Not having friends, when I was the one pushing people away and denying their affection. I would push and plunge for some sort of release. I wanted someone, or someone’s to spend all of their time with me, to get totally lost in me and invest most of their time with me. No matter how bad I yearned for this, something in my heart and head, told me no. No, you cannot let someone make you happy. These friends are not really friends. This boy who tells you he cares about you and treats you like gold, you don’t need him. There was a force within me that told me I was better off independent.

Ever since early childhood I strayed away from making friends. I alienated myself from the kids down the block playing together, I’d rather work alone on school projects, and I walked by myself while on class field trips. I wasn’t like most girls, having slumber parties and hanging out with friends after school. I would occupy only myself. Weekends were not made of fun times with friends, but rather more time spent alone. I couldn’t tell weekends from weekdays, I would just simply see less people on the weekends than on a weekday. But then I would whine. I would say how no one gets me. No one cares about me or truly wants to be with me. I must truly be a boring person. But what I realized is that it’s not other people. It’s my fault. I was way too wrapped up in myself that I pushed people away and allowed them to develop a false persona for me. When all I simply wanted was to be loved. By anyone, in the least bit. But something about myself wasn’t letting me have it.

I got older and started hanging around more guys. Guys that I did not even know. Guys that only wanted one thing from me and because I was so naive and so desperate to try anything so I could feel the least bit of interest in another person, I let them have it. I believed giving them what I thought they wanted would help me feel something. That only left me in the dark and into even more isolation. I started hating these guys. Blaming them for taking advantage, when I was the one letting them take advantage. It was my fault for trying to feel something. All I wanted was to find someone who would let me feel comfortable. Someone who I wouldn’t mind spending my days with. And all I got was an awkward “hello” in the morning. I chose to be alone. I chose this everlasting loneliness that consumes me. But I desire affection and love. But I won’t let anyone give it to me. I can’t let myself become undone, as much as I want it.

I cannot say my heart has ever been truly broken. I can’t blame this guard I have held up for so long on someone merely destroying my trust in people. I mean, I do trust people. I do, very much, often times, too much. I just would rather be left to myself as much as I don’t understand why. As much as I would love to come home and have another body’s warmth lying next to me. Another heart beating near mine. But there’s something that pushes it away before it gets too good. I will feel truly happy with someone and when I realize this, I tell myself I cannot let this go on. I begin to make up excuses. Ignore them. Push them away any possible way that I can. I’ve used the phrase, “it’s not you, it’s me.” And damn right, it is me. You can treat me better than I’ve ever expected, better than I deserve, but I just won’t take it. I’m not saying I am better than anyone and deserve the best, by no means at all do I mean that. I simply just would rather be left alone as much as I crave for another person. For friends. For anyone to care. I don’t let this happen because I have these thoughts that make everything too good to be true. I let these thoughts take over my happiness with others and I believe that I will be happiest by myself. As false as that is. I’m drunk and I’m writing because I wish I could be happy with another person.

If I started a bigcartel account and sold gently-used/vintage/new/thrifted/designer/etc clothing, shoes, and accessories at a decent price+shipping costs, would anyone actually be interested in buying my stuff? 

The shoe sizes and clothing sizes would vary, so there would be something that fits just about everyone.

I wouldn’t want to waste my time if no one would be interested in purchasing! Let me know, please :)

xo.

I’m scared I am remembering all of the bad memories and forgetting all of the good ones.