I gave you many reasons for not getting a hold of you
today. There was some truth I was not
ready to share. I didn’t know how
because sometimes I feel like I can’t make sense of my own emotions.
Tonight I watched a TV show and at the end I cried. Sure, it was a sad scene, but I realized I
was crying for more than just what I had watched. I was crying because that’s who I am. The one who feels compassion for
strangers. The one who cries at the
story that’s not even real, because I know that it could be real if it wasn’t
just a story. The one whose parents chose
to lie when the dog or cat was run over; they would say the animal ran away in
order to spare me heartache. I’m not
sure why they did though, because it never seemed to matter, I would still cry
and grieve for days.
In the midst of my tears I almost smiled. I was still crying, yet I felt love for
myself in realizing that I was taking another look at who I am, and accepting
myself. In my lifetime I’ve tried really
hard to run from me. I’ve sought after individuality,
and I have wanted others to see that in me and respect me for that. All the while, I’ve given in to the notion
that no amount of this individuality would ever be enough for me or anyone else
to love me. I’ve often felt like a
fraud, because I wanted others to respect me for something I wouldn’t even
respect myself for. I didn’t feel that
I could respect myself for it because so often it was a front; something to
hide the little girl inside who still wanted to cry at every sad ending. But the sadness never ended for that little
girl, so instead she learned to stop crying.
Every time I’ve ever started dating I wind up with the same
thoughts. I don’t know if I can do this. Then a fight or flight response kicks
in. It’s never ended well in the
past. The idea of history continuing to
repeat itself makes me want to deny myself altogether, or beg someone to be
patient while I figure out how the hell to grow past all of this. However, I don’t want anyone to wait on
me. And I don’t always have much hope
that this is a piece of my self I will be able to stare down and overcome.
I don’t know what else to say. And I don’t know where to go from here. So once again, I turn to my vice;
writing. Somehow it never seems to
adequately fit all of the feelings and stories into one page. So I keep writing. I don’t think I’ll ever stop writing. I'll stop long enough to keep hitting repeat on this song I'm listening to tonight. Music; it's good for my soul.
0 comments:
Post a Comment