Spring is on its way in, and with it comes the overwhelming feeling of unhappiness and depression that leaves me exhausted and empty every single day. Today I stared up at a bright sky and feel an ache in my chest because I know what’s coming. Hours of hiding away until the cover of night hides the sun. I hate the spring’s “warmth”. I don’t see anything but bleak, too bright sunshine. I don’t see the “beauty” of spring. I see it mocking, smiling to itself because Spring knows what she does to me.. who I become. She’s already working her magic.. leaving me with heavy dread in my chest. I miss you already winter. Wish me lick on your way out.
I miss being in love.
a lonely reply
I just finished The Fault In Our Stars. Second time I’ve read it, but it affected me differently this time.
The first time I read it, I cried because I was in love and made myself imagine losing him. Put myself in her position and let myself feel the grief that his complete absence would bring. I sobbed because I couldn’t imagine my life without him.
It’s now been almost a year.
I’m not in love anymore. I’m in love with memories and innocence, but I’m slowly losing those too.
This time I cried because I realized there’s a good chance I’ll never find love like that book. I thought I had a rare love, the type that inspires novels and books. But it couldn’t withstand the tests of real life, and it crumbled. What if that’s the closest I get?
I also realized I missed him. I haven’t let myself feel for such a long time because I decided around January that I would move on. And I guess I did. If blocking off everything and sealing off your heart means moving on. I cried because I realized who I had become. I cried because Augustus didn’t remind me of anyone anymore— he was simply an idealized fictional character.
My life doesn’t resemble a love story anymore. I was part of a relationship that was beautiful, heartbreaking, and real. But that’s gone now, and in its place remains secrets, lies, and shame. I can’t just wipe my tears off and text him to remind him how thankful I am that he’s in my life. I’m no longer leaving that story to go back to something better. I’m left with my reality and it’s a lonely scene.
I miss the innocence and hope I used to have. I wish I could cry for the right reasons. I wish I could cry at all really. I’m so numb to my own life that the only thing that’s made cry was that book. I feel nothing anymore, and I think I cried because I miss feeling.
SO I GET HOME AND THERE’S THIS RANDOM KID ON MY COUCH AND HE’S LIKE ‘ALRIGHT MAN I DON’T WANNA HURT U JUST PUT UR STUFF DOWN AND GET ON THE GROUND I JUST WANT UR MONEY’ AND I FUCKIN ALMOST PUKED I WAS LIKE “OMG PLS NO I DON’T HAVE ANY MONEY I’M ONLY 15” THEN HE WAS LIKE “NAH MAN I’M JUST FUCKIN WITH U I’M UR BROTHER’S FRIEND HE’S IN THE SHOWER I’M JUST WAITIN FOR HIM”
(via genericluna)
is it bad
That I really like that all of you are worrying about me? I see all your little looks. I see the concern behind your laughs. I’m pushing my limits with all of you, but I get a perverse joy out of bluntly explaining my actions. I make you nervous now. You can’t even be in the car with me alone now because who knows what I’ll let slip out of my mouth. And that scares all of you. Because I was the one that was leading you to better places.
And then I just stopped. I’m glad you all reached your destinations. And it’s interesting to watch you look down on me from up there. Sometimes I feel really alone behind this mask that I’ve trapped myself in. And sometimes I still want someone to force me out of this, because underneath it all is the desire to be noticed. But I finally got your attention and I’m still stuck here. I think I’ve gone in a little too deep this time to just wander back.
So your concern is flattering. sometimes. Sometimes it just really pisses me off. Stop watching me with pinched expressions. You’re not going to fix me. Soon I’ll no longer enjoy shocking you and then the only things you’ll know about me are the things you assume.
You all can’t make me feel something. That’s what I’m trying to do right now. I wish you could say the right words and make me cry and crack open and let you back in, seriously. But something hardened me. I honestly just don’t feel anything anymore. Sometimes I’ll feel completely isolated and depressed, but not enough to actually hurt from it.
I’m on the outside watching all of you. Watching you talk about what to do with me. Keep talking. I know this only scares you because you see way too much of yourselves in me.
