Stop pulling your hair. You deserve to have the long thick beautiful hair you were born with, child. You deserve to feel full and healthy. Digest those nutrients in life and stop feeding on garbage. It’s just not right to keep wallowing in those gutters. You had a fire once, child. And you got scared real quick by things, I know, but that wasn’t your fault, you know. That was the woods and the big dark house and the stories you were told about what the world was “really” like. But, you, you came out kicking, you did. And boy, did you have stories to tell. Like an old man that’s seen it all, you had a stubborn grip on wisdom, child.

I'm sorry, but the double standard really is just ridiculous.
That you can go out "to a game" and come home WASTED at 1:30 AM, puking into the toilet, having not returned any of my texts or calls, and that's just fine. But I go out for a couple drinks after work, return your calls and come home at 11:30 and you guilt trip me. You really do treat me like a puppy. You want me where you can see me, excited to see you when you get home. You want me to obey your rules and be around to entertain you and keep you company. And you want me to behave myself when you leave to do whatever the hell you want to do.

I'm not going to be crushed by this. I will crush it if I have to. I will

"...You'll be loved, you'll be loved, like you never have known. And the memories of me will seem more like bad dreams. Just a series of blurs like I never occurred. Some day you will be loved."

I will.

So apparently it's only a matter of time. Apparently it all comes down to how much longer I want to put up with this. How much longer I can put up with this. Because apparently we're dealing with some pretty deeply rooted personality issues here. Apparently, it's really not my fault.

Most of the time I wake up miserable these days. My heart starts racing early and I'm throwing up stomach bile by the time I've gotten out of bed and it feels all too familiar. Somehow things usually feel fine once the day gets going. But when it slows down again and it's time to return to my anxious dreams, I'm just trying not to let my tears drip onto the arms around me.

She's the not the elephant head, or the antique lanterns, or the lomo photos we took at alki. She's just the girl that doesn't even think to call because she left you right where she found you and why on Earth were you even waiting for her at all?

"You're not being lied to, but you're definitely not being told the whole truth."


Yup.

I hate these empty days
Empty mornings and empty beds

I feel like an insatiable sponge. Like nobody could fill me up, ever, with enough.

I feel like an utter panicky mess and I've been having the hardest time even leaving the apartment these days, even though the apartment just feels like a prison cell and I can't get out of my head or stop this spinning.

Tomorrow, no smoking. Tomorrow, no more bad habits. Tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow.

 

But really...

I really really really really want to be better.

Maybe all it has ever been is the wine and the music and the sex.

I'm still just that little girl staring out the window. Still. Still. Still.