Faded Scars, Strong Memories

While the scars have faded away, the memories are still there. I bury them deep yet there are those rare occasions that they sneak up and take over. They're like a tidal wave, knocking me under. Forcing me to remember those dark days. The days spent by the window, tears streaming down my face like the rain on the window. Those were the days that the only thoughts were how to get away. How to move passed the lonely nights and the masked days. Those were the days that I ached for something better, some shred of true happiness. And those were the days where I ached for someone to see, for someone to know, and for someone to say something. For someone to take me in their arms and tell me that it would all be okay because they were there. Not to turn a cold shoulder and act like everything was okay. And not to be blind to the aching that I held right in front of them. The scars could have been so easy for them to see. They could have so easily noticed and said something. Yet, they never did. And still to this day, I ask, was I that good at hiding or were they that good at ignoring?

Whatever Helps You Sleep At Night

It's a phrase that's been around for...well who knows how long. It tends to be used in situations where people are trying to make others feel bad or they are upset with someone. Yet for me, whatever helps me sleep at night isn't some sort of phrase meant to cause guilt or sadness in anyone. It's a tactic for me. I'm a hopeless hopeful. Meaning I'm always dreaming and thinking about what if's and the future. Sometimes (okay, more than just sometimes), I lay in bed at night and I think about what if's and the future. I have little "mini dreams" about things that could possibly happen. Things I would like to happen. These thoughts help me get to sleep. Yet, thinking about them the next morning doesn't exactly help me get through the day. I know they won't come true. And I know it's not safe to let my heart take control like that. Yet, it really is what helps me sleep at night. I guess I'm backwards. The hopes and dreams that could get me in trouble, those things that make my heart soar then plummet when they get dashed is what helps keep the nightmares away. Things that, if they go badly, can cause nightmares, keeps them away for me as long as they stay the dreams.

Mess

I'm a paranoid person. But not in the sense that I think someone is out to get me. But in the sense that when I'm alone, people see it as lonely. Or they notice what I'm wearing, what I'm eating. I'm paranoid that people look at me and watch my every move. I'm paranoid that I've got something to prove to people-and that there's nothing to prove to them. I'm also paranoid that those around me don't always want to be around me. That they just do it out of pity or because they feel obligated to. It's not a comfortable way for me to live. Yet I have been all these years. And I can't kid myself anymore. As badly as I want to say I'm that independent woman who just doesn't care what others think about her, I'm a paranoid mess.

Bitter

I feel like I've been so angry lately. Angry and tired and irritated and just ready to let someone hear it all. It doesn't even matter who it is that gets it. I just feel so angry. I don't know why. It's more than just irritated by people. It's the fact that I'm so irritated that I'm mad. And for once, I can't figure it out right now. Sure, I can blame it on where I am. But is that really it? I don't have anywhere else to compare it to so I can't know for sure. Not yet at least. I don't like this. I'm not an angry and bitter person...So why have I been lately?

Alone in a Busy World

Sometimes I feel so isolated. Like I don't belong. Like no matter how hard I try, I just won't fit where I am. I'm always searching for a place where I feel comfortable, and like I can be myself. I've tried to fit in where I am. I've tried to blend and become a part of the mix. Yet, it doesn't work. People seem to expect me to open myself and go to them. Yet that is not who I am. This pressure to become friends with people I have no particular interest in is stressful. It's a pressure I'd rather never deal with. Yet, I have people telling and expecting me to come out of my shell and carry on small talk with people who really don't appear to personally care about me. This makes it impossible for me to care about them. This also makes me want to run. Run to a place that I fit. That I'm not pushed into carrying on conversations with people who have no interest in who I am.