dancing in the sky

actually no, i feel like i need to write a little more. whenever i post, i always look back at my old posts. always. and i am always so disgusted, because who did i think i was? talking about anxiety, talking about that piece of shit boyfriend, talking about PARTIES? i was so....dumb. literally, i can't remember those being things i was ever legitimately upset about. whenever i would write them, i would make it about a certain topic - but it is never what i actually meant. would i be upset about something? yes, but it was something i couldn't talk about because i'd get my shit beat if i did. it's funny how none of my friends know this exists. i don't tell my friends anything. i don't even tell dora. no one knows how bad it ever got. no one. i still have marks all over my body from where he would hit me. there's a lump on top of my head from when he threw me against the wall once. it's hard to remind myself that that part of my life is over. it's traumatizing. and i don't know who to talk to about it. it isn't fair that he gets to go on with his life, as if nothing happened. like he didn't fuck me up for an entire two years. but, i know it's my fault. i should have just left, but i was so afraid. whenever i think about that time, or him, i just want to end the pain. i never liked him, that was the worst part. i didn't stay because some part of me loved him, and thought he was a good person deep down. i was just afraid of him hurting me to the point of no return.

there was a time he left me in the middle of a dirt road, in the middle of nowhere, without my phone, in a shady city for an entire two hours.

the veins under my eyes were always popped. they were just red and purple from how often i would cry.

my stomach and ribs were always bruised.

my car radio was smashed.

my phone was smashed.

my clothes were always ripped.

i could never speak. i could never go out.

but was this even his fault or was it mine

maybe someday, on a sunday...i'll be telling you

a month has passed. some things have changed, but not much. i get more tired of life as the days go on. i have good days, but more often than not they are bad. i mean i am sleeping a lot more than i used to, but i don't think that is necessarily healthy either. in fact, i am pretty sure it's just depression naps i keep taking. anyways, i should probably write this essay i'm ignoring huh.

you're gonna carry that weight

I have been feeling like I am in such a rut. I don't know how to get out of it, I don't know what to do. I am so tired of feeling the same things over and over. I am getting bad again. I haven't felt this way in a while. And I feel like I have no one to talk to. I don't think anyone knows how sad I am. I know I am depressed. But I don't want anyone to know, I don't want anyone to feel bad for me. Having two parents with cancer suck. Disliking yourself sucks. Missing someone sucks. Life just sucks.

I wonder what people like to write about. Like writing, good writing I would argue, comes from the heart. Am I right? But, what I write here...those are just my thoughts. It doesn't come from my heart, but then it does. It comes from a confused place, that isn't my heart. Is it? I don't know. Wow, I guess I am a little dumb. Is this even good writing? No, what I write is a stream of consciousness. That's why it doesn't flow. BUT, one could argue it does flow. I am writing how I think. Which is a blessing and a curse simultaneously.

Every time I come back here and I look at my old posts, I see how tailored they were. They were so tailored to one person in particular, so I wouldn't get hit for writing something bad. I used to be so manipulated and scared. I didn't even want to see anyone in the library or make accidental eye contact in fear of getting my head smashed against the window in the car. I think I am over that, but then sometimes I remember. I remembered today. And I have been off all day because of it. It's weird, because I know that I am no longer in that situation anymore and that I am safe. But, there is still something inside of me that tells me I need to be careful. I still feel the need to tippy-toe around people.

to love you in moderation

I am back. Yes, it is I. I keep writing this in intervals, and I really should make this more of a habit. I miss so many people. I love so many people. I can't help but to feel so many things, and to feel them all at once. I do not know what I want from people, nor do I know what I want from myself. I really miss one person in particular. And I know that I should not miss them. But I don't really know how to imagine my life without them. I don't know. I don't have much to say.