Better off on my own

People are beautiful. The way they laugh, express joy towards the smallest of things or offer a hand when you’re in need. Even the way people stress kind of excites me. When someone takes a long hit of their cigarette or sweats profusely.

I’ve always been a watcher, a listener, the girl who sits in the sidelines just observing the players. Maybe that’s why it’s easier for me to be on my own. I’ve seen how people are and what they can do. I know that we all hold a beauty of our own, but there’s only so much time I can spend admiring others before I start desiring their lives over my own.

I tend to drift from myself because I’ll see how happy someone else is, how successful, how loved they are and suddenly I want to do what it takes to achieve the same. I’ll copy their movements like a puppet on a string. It’s disturbing. I know deep down what I truly enjoy and who I’m really supposed to be, so when I spend all this time trying to be like someone else I start feeling so depressed.

I watch and watch and watch, like a binge night of Netflix. Then I alter myself to those personalities like an actor on set. It starts to get a little overwhelming and even tiring after a while. Coming home to an empty space, with complete silence besides the creaks made from my upstairs neighbors is literally perfection. I can start finding myself again.

I don’t know of any other way to be living, at least a way of living I’d truly enjoy. It makes me wonder if I’d ever really be happy in a relationship or with a family, with children of my own. I just can’t imagine having to sacrifice so much of myself for others.

Time to move on

Last night when I saw you I was pretty happy. I knew I looked great and could sense your gaze on me at least for a moment. At least I knew you saw me, but then when our paths crossed again you pretended as if I wasn’t even there. You didn’t even look my way. You didn’t say hi or sorry. Maybe it’s my own fault for expecting that, but it hurt. I felt my heart drop slightly as you walked right by me and left the club. My heart dropped because there was a small part of me that still held onto the idea that maybe there was still a chance for us. When you walked by me I knew that it was over. I should’ve already knew but my overpowering imagination refuses to back down despite my rational mind telling it to. I imagined the night to go differently. That was my own fault. I told myself that if you didn’t say anything that I’d finally let myself let you go. That one part of me was hoping that wouldn’t happen, but I also knew it needed to. It’s been too long. I’ve been holding on to something that’s not even real. Last night you showed me that. I’m grateful and now I can finally move on.