Please don’t be a season

Please don’t be a season.

Don’t be a fallen leaf in Autumn that slowly dies as it hits the pavement.

Don’t be the touch of snow on skin that quickly melts away in Winter.

Don’t be the rainbow after rain, hiding behind clouds of grey in Spring.

Don’t be warm beach days, fresh green grass and bright sunny rays that pass by as quickly as time does in the Summer.

You’re not allowed to come in and out of my life like the weather.

I want you for years to come.

I want you like the comfort of sitting down after every long day, knowing it’s a luxury whether on the floor or a coushioned chair.

I want you like the tattoo on the bottom of my neck, wearing out from too much sun exposure, but always holding meaning within my skin.

I want you like the memories written in books passed down for generations– causing stories to be diluted, but still partaking in history.

I want you like all of my body, maybe growing weaker as I get older, but always remaining, always trying, still working after so much vulnerability.

You are not just a season to me, you are a year. A year full of life, memories, sunshine, rainy days, snow fall and golden brown leaves on the ground.

Please don’t just be another season.

Freedom

I feel free. I saw you today and I almost smiled. I haven’t talked to you in a few days and I’m happy. I didn’t think I’d feel this way, but I do. I’m going to embrace it, because I deserve to be happy. Even if I did make you sad. I can only be in control of my own emotions, not yours. As much as I’d like to make you happy– that’s all I’ve been trying to do since we’ve been friends. I’ve put your emotions in front of mine for too long. It’s what I did for him too. The both of you were my number ones and I was always number two, just like I was for you.

I’ve cared so much and you’ve cared so little, wrapped up in your own life and drama of your love. You forgot I was there, in the sidelines cheering you on. Always there when you were down, when you didn’t want him, when you didn’t have him to hold. I was there. For the both of you. Open ears, open mind, open arms, but I left my heart closed. Because if it remained opened, I would’ve gotten burned, which is exactly what happened. I finally opened it. I finally opened my heart and my mouth to speak and you quickly shut it down. You can feel, but I can’t. You can love, but I can’t. You can fight, but I can’t. You can stir up drama and hate and confusion, but I can’t. I must remain silent around you and it hurts. It’s my own fault though. I shouldn’t fall into those bad habits. I shouldn’t let people walk all over me, talk to me without listening to me, judge me without hearing me out, fight with me without considering my side. When that’s all I do. All I do is wonder about you. How you’re doing. How he’s doing. How you’re both fucking doing and it hurts. Maybe I ended this the wrong way, but at least I ended it. I can say more than you can.

I want to write again

I’m not going to talk much about myself. I don’t think I’m that interesting to be honest. I wouldn’t want to read about someone’s daily life, so why would I write about mine? I write stories. Made up scenarios that involve impossible romances, troubled teens who make their way out of hell and drama filled happenings that never actually happen. This makes it impossible for me to find ordinary life as interesting when I have an aggressive imagination that forces me to pull out my laptop and type out a story. I’m a day dreamer. I constantly manipulate situations in my head so that I can later make it a part of a future novel that might not ever get published, or even finished. I like it this way. So no, I won’t write about my day to day life.

I do however, like writing about life in general. Not mine. I like writing about any findings I have discovered that may help out another fellow human being to survive whatever hardship they may be facing. Life is fucking hard, especially when the one you make up in your head is far greater than the one you experience in reality. So I manage to search for anything and everything that might help me make it through my boring day-to-day activities and potentially help others do the same.

So, I’m going to start writing more. Not about me. Maybe about the people I meet that I find interesting, only because another person’s psychology and day-to-day activities aren’t completely exposed. It gives room for my imagination to take control. I’ll write about emotions, feelings, what it means to be human, stories, questions, God, spiritual well-being and hardships I may confront that others can relate to.

I’m going to start writing again. Every day. Maybe I’ll have days where my mind is so blank that I have to go on about the almond milk latte I drank this morning being too hot or the hiking trip I have planned for tomorrow. For now, I’m going to try to commit this blog to things that matter though. Because no one really cares if I burn my tongue while sipping coffee or if I’ve managed to get in a daily work out.