Dear Me

I’ve met someone who I thought was exactly the same as me. I’ve been trying so hard to talk to them, but I’ve just been getting anxious and scared of what they’ll think of me.  But the main thing is, I just want them to like me.
Now I realise that I don’t even like myself.
I was so afraid of them not liking me because of how I talked or what I said or even my messaging style. But if I acknowledge that that is who I am, how I talk and how I act, then I realise that there is no reason for me to be anxious.
If people don’t like me then that should be ok. I should be comfortable with the thought that I like myself, and that’s enough.
I think it is time for me to stop creating anxiety for myself and appreciate me for who and what I am.

Dear me,

You’re doing great.

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Starting Again

I’ve decided I need to start writing. I blamed school for killing my creativity, when honestly I just couldn’t be bothered to do it anymore. My stories went to blog posts, blog posts went to poems, poems went to nothing.
I had it in my head that there is no point in doing something unless you’re the best, but who cares? I need to start writing for me; to try and figure out what I want from everything I’m doing.
But instead of starting a new blog and leaving my old one to rest, I have decided to carry on, because nothing has really changed. My writing is still shitty, my thoughts are still not processing correctly and I still don’t deal with my emotions well. But I am open to change and new ideas.

So hi again me, I’m back.

Write Me a Letter

I find this interesting to read;

Dear Whom this may concern,
I lay here on my back, as I have been for the past month, just staring up at the red and orange sky, feeling the waves of the ocean lapping at my feet. I breathe in slowly, attempting to match my breath to the waves as I glance at the rocky silhouettes along the bank, doing anything to get my mind off of what lay in my hands. The letter. Every time I read it, every time the paper sears into my eyes and heart what lay carved in ink, I hear his voice. The words were so formal, so dry, so brutally honest. But it was what I asked for, wasn’t it? I begged for him to answer me, for him to give me the answer I’ve been dying to hear.

And I got it; it wasn’t the answer I wanted, it was the answer I feared. And here it is now, laying in my hands, damp with salt water from both the sprays of the ocean and from what my own two eyes let out.

Still laying on my back, I close my eyes to force the tears to fall down the sides of my face, instead of blinding me with a blurry vision. I lay here still, eyes shut, crinkled paper in hand, liquid emotions sliding down my face, all taking me away from what should be a beautiful sunset. But I can’t see the sunset. I can’t see the darkness that closed eyes should embrace me in.
No.
Just the same sunlight, the same world, but in a different perspective. It’s changed. finally

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However Tired or Distressed- I Am Doing My Best

I’ve figured that people are fickle, fragile, that they only have time for few, but not themselves.

When I tried to please myself and others, I ended up hurting other people and in return, they made y happiness disappear, the happiness that I longed for; worked so hard for. They made is go. Poof. Funny how that is, I can make it come back, I just have to do it without them. I will hope that I will see them again in future, but once they destroy my happiness; they can burn in hell.

I thought it would make me happy, seeing them happy. But they weren’t happy, they kept looking for more, searching so far and hard that they missed it, the blank space in the middle that was avoided. Never mind. Another day, more happiness to generate.

They are the slaves to happiness, but longing for happiness is just stupid, because as long as you’re hoping for it, you won’t be able to see it.

The thing is, it hurts. It hurts to know I will see him in my classes, and no longer be able to talk to him. However much love I gain, it seems at this moment, it will be hard to make up for my year, my year that I sacrificed just for glances across a crowded classroom, simple nods and short conversations.

I cried for him. I longed for him. For happiness. See already, where I went wrong? Like I’ve explained.

I don’t see how my friends put up with me last year. All the anger and sorrow I kept ranting to them, ranting AT them, gosh.

It has made me stronger. It has made me realise that these things won’t last, that we work for everything we have, even to maintain it.

 

I will be happy.

I will be happy.

I will be happy.

I will be happy.

I will be happy.

TROLOLOL.

 

However tired or distressed,

I am doing my best

I am doing my best

I am doing my best

 

I keep repeating these in my head, reminding myself I am good enough.

 

I AM

I AM

I AM

!

 

When you’re told you’re not worth the trouble, it hurts. It hurts more to delve deep into yourself to find out why. So I’m sticking to the basics, of side wards glances and casual conversations. We will never be the same again, and I HAVE to be ok with that.

 

I’m ok with it

I’m ok with it

I’m ok with it

 

Focus !

Focus !

Focus !

 

Easily distracted. Easily broken. No. Not easily broken. I am better than that.well, I am now. I’ve gotten better, I promise. Though my obsessive habits still linger in the back of my mind, even the way I torment myself that I am not good enough.

I have changed the voice in my head to be kinder to me, to shut up when I please.

I’ve been meditating, harnessing my own power. It’s cool, really.

‘But that doesn’t please anyone but yourself? ‘ you’re asking?

No.

I don’t give a damn any more.

 

Run at me.

Be Happy