Time does wonderful things. I’ve done a lot of healing these past few months.

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How I’ve been feeling, put more beautifully than I could ever do.

Virtual Vomit

It’s so strange

After everything that had went through my head

After everything I thought and said

It’s so strange

I look at you

or even just when I’m thinking of you

I feel like you don’t know me

or it’s a different me

The me that only shows when I’m with you

And there’s this huge lump in my heart or chest or…

I don’t know where exactly

but it’s been bugging me to crawl out

I can feel it in my throat now

And I need to take it out and give it to you somehow

It’s the urge to tell you everything and anything

The urge let go and come clean

The urge to want you to know every little piece of me

Why is that?

Isn’t that strange?

I guess it’s always been me to want people to know the whole story

No misunderstanding

Just equally…

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Something my neighbor called me today. Something I find both a compliment and a form of alienation. I love being told I’m different. Who doesn’t want to be different from the crowd? To stick out. To be noticed as someone that isn’t like everyone else. 

In a way, whenever you get to know someone they’re always different from what you’d expect. They’re always different once you hear their story. They’re different when you spend more time with them. Of course its easy to say I’m different. 

I never know for sure if people just say things like that to everyone, or if they actually mean it. And if they do mean it, what does it mean? How am I different from anyone else? 

It seems so lonely at times to know that I’m “different” but time and time again I’d rather be different than anything else.

Memories, Personal


I’m so frustrated right now that I could gauge my eyes out. I’m burning with anger, and it might also be a touch of hunger. I’m sad. I’m annoyed. I want to cry from how many negative emotions I’m feeling but most of all I feel guilt. The worst feeling of all. The kind that makes my stomach churn acid into something sickly. Makes my lungs feel heavy. I hate it.

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Memories, Personal

Sunday at the Beach

It’s confusing. I try not think about it too much because sometimes thinking about it makes me dizzy. I go in circles and circles trying to figure out what’s going on, and eventually, I get tired of it and just enjoy it instead. I don’t want to understand it anymore, or try to think about what he’s thinking about, or what he wants from me, or what his intentions are, or why he does what he does, I can’t keep asking, and I can’t keep thinking, I just have to remind myself to enjoy it for what it is.

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