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’m not here for you

I’m tired. I’m tired of being the mediator. I’m tired of being the only person giving a shit at work. I’m tired of being there for everyone, but having no one there for me. I’m tired of living in everyone’s life and not my own. I do not live for others. I do not live to sit there and listen to you talk about your boyfriend. I do not live to watch and cheer you on as you achieve your dreams. I do not live to pleasure you. I do not live to make all of the arrangements and plans for the sake of your happiness. I do not live for you.

I’m not going to do it anymore. When it gets to the point where I can’t even sit on my own and decide what to do with myself, I know I’ve been focused on others for too long. It’s happened before and I’m not going to keep letting it happen. I want to achieve my own dreams, to search for my own happiness. I want to be able to sit alone and figure out what the fuck to do with myself because I’ll know what I want to do with my life. I don’t want to have to feel like I need others in order to feel a sense of drive.

We’re not to be driven and motivated by the desire to make other people happy, because once they are gone they take that happiness with them. What are you left with then? You feel a loss of energy for the work you put into them and you gain nothing from it. Fuck that. I’m tired of putting my energy into others. It’s time to focus on me.

Fighting the feelings

I haven’t been feeling as ambitious as I know I could be. At one point in my life that’s all I was, ambitious to become someone better, smarter, healthier, and organized. I’ve slowly let all of this go because when I was ambitious, it was to the point of being overly worked and stressed out 24/7. Maybe I fear that feeling and that’s why I’ve let go. I miss it though, the thirst and drive. Now I’m parched, but I fail to reach for a glass of water.

Feelings tend to get in the way of actions. I know this. I knew this when I was going through depression and refused to get out of bed some mornings. My list of chores and goals for the day completely ignored. But, I’m recovered now. At least enough to where I can get out of bed every morning, even if it’s reluctantly. I want to be ambitious again. I want to feel my feelings of laziness, of being unmotivated or tired and still continue on the path that I need to take to become the person I want to be.

That’s the thing with the connection between feelings and actions. We tend to think that one will always cause another. In my case, it has been my feelings taking control of the actions I take, but I know this can change. I’ve forced myself to write when I was unwilling and once I started seeing words appear before my eyes, my motivation had changed. It’s beautiful to watch. It’s like rain disappearing and turning to a bright sunny sky, with a rainbow appearing overhead. I can do this, I know. I just need a reminder that my feelings don’t have to have control all the time.

When I feel like smoking a cigarette, I really don’t have to. When I feel like staying in bed, I have the choice to jump out of my covers and plaster a smile on my face. When I feel like calling out of work, I can put in earbuds blasting some dubstep to get me in the mood. It’s the actions I take that can completely transform the feelings that may develop due to biological tendencies.

So, even though I’m scared, I need to keep trying. I don’t want to look back at my life only to realize I could’ve done more. I want to write a book. I want to get my degree. I want to be healthy. I want to convince others to do what they need to do to achieve their own goals and I know the only way I can do that is by doing it myself.

Only human

I realized what he meant, by feeling as if you’re a ghost in that environment. The music was blaring, the heat heavy and the crowd growing. You become so consumed by the addicting noise streaming through your ears and the weightless atmosphere brought on by multiple drinks that you become completely unrecognizable–not only to others, but to yourself. At least, that’s how it seemed when I glanced over at him that night. His head banging to the bass of the music and feet sliding back and forth to the rhythm. I smiled slightly, only because he looked so content at his ability to escape.

A group of girls stood next to him looking at him in curiosity, but he had no recognition of them at all. His eyes were completely empty, his face expressionless. He had become a ghost. And then he even disappeared like one, running off into the crowd. I stood on my toes, trying to catch sight of his hat in the sea of people, but couldn’t find him.

“What the fuck?” I looked over at my friend, who simply shrugged, unamused with the disappearing act. He focused his attention back to the stage and continued dancing. I tried. I tried hard to just focus on the music, to fucking disappear myself, but I felt everything. I felt my heart dropping and shoulders shrinking. I felt any movement of dancing that I attempted was useless and utterly vacant. A paranormal figure wouldn’t feel as much as I did in that moment. I sure as hell knew he wasn’t feeling the way I did.

He disappeared, and I stayed so clearly visible. Both my friends and the crowd sensing every movement, every turn of my head as I looked around for him. The mood between us collapsed completely, unable to be rebuilt by the vodka running through my veins or the music pouring out of the speakers surrounding us. This was one thing that music couldn’t possibly fix, because I knew it wasn’t going to be a good night and once you get that into your head it’s impossible to escape it. Once that feeling becomes conscious, there’s no way of preparing some sort of Houdini act to get rid of it.

So, we left early without a trace of him and headed towards the hotel room. My heart was thumping so loud it could’ve burst out of my chest at any moment. The thing was, I knew something bad was going to happen. I felt it deep down in the pit of my stomach that remained uneasy ever since getting in the front seat of his car the first time he took me out. I had this hideous feeling that he was going to end up hurting me. Yet, I still sat next to him in that seat comfortably. I laid in his bed willingly, opened up to him hesitantly and handed over my heart reluctantly. I thought that even though he may hurt me, I was strong enough to take on whatever he could throw at me. But, when I saw him laying down next to another girl, his arms wrapped around her tightly in the hotel bed, I knew I was wrong to ever feel that comfortable. I knew I was wrong to ever get into that fucking car of his.

You may feel like a ghost–like you are untouchable, empty, hollow and unseen, but you’re not. You’re human and you are seen. You’re false words are heard, brief touch is felt and guilty acts are watched. The loud music, chaotic crowd and double shots of whiskey don’t cover up shit.

 

I couldn’t save the fish

A costumer had left a plastic bag of six tiny gold fish outside of our store today. Just sitting there in the heat, squished together in the bag full of luke warm water and their own feces. When a man brought in the bag and handed it over, I picked it up with joy. I stared into the bag and watched the fish swim around in complete fear of my nose being so close to the plastic.

I told my coworkers that I would keep them. I was so excited. Something to care for, something to buy things for and love and give names to. Despite all my coworkers looking at me like I was crazy and saying they would die within a couple of days.

I still rushed home and poured then into a plastic container with fresh water. I was in the midst of planning my next trip to petco for supplies when I noticed one floating at the top of the water. They literally started dying a minute after I got them home. I don’t know what had happened.

I wanted to cry though. Watching as they started slowing creeping up to the top of the water, motionless, I decided to just flush them all down the toilet before I had to see the last 2 fall into the same fate.

I know I seem really pathetic and I’m overreacting, but I’ve been feeling extremely sympathetic to animals lately. There’s been a stronger desire to change my eating habits once again and I’ve always had veganism in the back of my mind. It’s always just floating there, like a dead fish in water. That’s all it is though, because without actually going through with it and taking the action needed to become vegan, it will always remain lifeless.

I’m going to try some new things though. We’ll see where these choices take me.

When depression hits

You start by getting up in the morning. Even if you really don’t feel like it. Even if your covers seem like a good way to hide, realize putting them over you head when the sun shines through your blinds only makes the darkness more cultivating. It makes your mood more low, your aspirations for the day less likely. I think that’s the hardest part. Getting up even though every inch of you refuses to. Your ears refusing to hear your alarm. Your arms refusing to stretch. Your legs refusing to get up. Your mind refusing to think. Your soul refusing to hope. Even after you get up, your eyes will lay low and you wonder where to even start.

I always start by eating. It can be both a problem and solution. Although eating has always caused problems for me in the past, I know it’s one of the only ways to convince myself that getting up from my bed is somehow worth it. The first bite into a fresh juicy peach can somehow produce a small ray of light within my darkened perspective. Then a cigarette, because I need to get outside, even if it’s just for a few minutes so I can look up at the sun and feel the rays hit my face. That small hint of vitamin D extracted from the light causing a flutter of joy to thoughts of my day.

Realizing that I’ve been here before, that the darkness has overcome me and I’ve let it take over completely to the point of no return. To a point of hiding out for 24 hours only to regret it when I finally escape. I can’t let it do that. Not this time. Even as I type this, my bed is in the other room, my covers mangled and ready to confine me. I can’t even sit down on them, because I know what will happen. The little rays of sunshine I get from outside may not be enough. I have to go on a walk or something.

Yesterday I felt almost manic. I’m starting to wonder if I really am bi-polar or if it’s just another excuse for me to fall back onto my emotions when they’re repeatedly going up and down like this. A high high and a low low. That is my life. When things feel good, they’re extremely good. And when things get bad, fuck they get so bad. But, it’s not as bad as before and that’s what I have to remember.

Fuck. I just want to go back to bed.