Once is all you need.

why is it that I always turn to tumblr when I want to write about you?

I secretly hoped you would still be able to find my writings

I regret the mouth vomit from this morning, I wish I could’ve whispered it into the wind hoping the words would find their way to you. perhaps I said too much. perhaps I rehashed too much of the past. 

perhaps.

now I may never hear from you again. 

and just like, the wounds have opened up again and the realization that I may never get over you...sits in front of me, attempting to form itself into something tangible.

maybe if it was tangible - I could destroy it

I didn’t know I was going to cry like that. I didn’t know that I was still harboring onto that pain. I didn't know that I still loved you that much.

perhaps.

perhaps I'm clinging onto the memories of my “first love”. I can’t bring myself to rip those pictures up, I just can’t. they’ll be hidden forever in “my treasures”, sitting there, tempting me to look at them. 

I probably come off as the crazy ex girlfriend. I wouldn’t blame you for thinking that. I was a crazy girl when I was 20 years old. easily swayed by the lifestyle that promoted “letting loose and forgetting real life” - if only I had had a better grasp on reality.

I've experienced so many amazing things over the last 5 years. things that most people wait over half of their life to see and be a part of. and yet I still feel like that 20 year old girl. ashamed of the damage I caused and forever clinging onto the guilt of the heartache I caused.

maybe this guilt reminds me that I'm human.

perhaps.

it’s so easy for me to focus on work. so easy to forget that human relationships exist. why put effort into other humans when you can give your all to your career?

I hate that I'll continue to cling onto those 5 texts you sent me. you seemed calm and held your composure. but for all I know, you could be wishing me dead or that I never existed. 

it didn’t matter what you said - I 110% believe that I destroyed your life and the karma for that? the dreams. the most recent dream [which spiraled all of this], there you were, standing in front of me wearing a colored sweater. your hair, slightly at that skater length but not too long, just enough to create those little curls I loved so much. those green eyes peering directly into my damaged heart and you gave me the warmest smile. 

it felt so real

and that’s why it hurts. 

because it wasn’t

I hate that I remember the night we met so clearly. so silly that we were complete opposites, but for some reason, the universe told us to look up - and there you were. the person that was going to be forever imprinted as my first true love. the person that I was going to eventually destroy. the person that I will forever love. 

I say I don’t regret things in life. but I regret losing what we had. I thought that I would eventually get that idea out of my head but every now and then, it resurfaces. 

perhaps.

perhaps this feeling will fade once work begins to get busy again.

and in a years time, these emotions will come flooding back. and I will spend exactly 5 hours and 42 minutes sobbing over you. knowing that you will never love me the way that I still love you. 

rinse. recycle. repeat.

thank you for responding to my text. I'm glad to know you’re alive and that you felt civil enough to acknowledge my existence. I hope that someday these memories will fade, not disappear but fade. into a shadow box that I'll hold onto for the rest of my life. 

because it’s not fair. it’s not fair for me to emotionally invest in other people when I’m still clinging onto the comfort you gave me.

I don’t want to forget you but I wish I could numb this agony.

there’s no point in me continuing this entry lol. we all know I'll be back. with the same wave of emotions disguised in eloquent words and enhancements for aesthetic purposes. 

ciao bella.

why is it that we oftentimes go into our darkest places in the wee hours of the morning, shortly before sunrise?

what does it mean?

I finally went through my old Instagram photos.

I felt some pretty odd sensations.

watching the delete option appear, was like watching all the stages of grievance at once. some clicks were relieving, others...made my throat close while tiny tears started to form. I couldn’t get myself to delete certain photos. maybe i’ll try again tomorrow.

it was like staring at piece of my past I wish I could change but given the chance, I wouldn’t dare.

i’m happy. I think.

revisiting the creases in time where the edge of the universe meet with the palms of your hands. like someone breathing down your neck, only to turn around and catch a glimpse of your shadow.

the scariest aspect of having anxiety is when you begin to create these scenarios in your mind, and soon enough - they begin to evolve into self-fulfilling prophecies. and it’s really fascinating how much of your breath is connected to your emotions...so the true power of living (literally) lies in how you control and are aware of your breathing.

breathe through it

I don’t know if i’ll ever get over that chapter of my life. I don't think it’s necessarily a bad thing. but I think deleting the majority of those photos was a step in the right direction :)

I can’t handle all of these emotions.

I should probably go home and get some rest.

it felt really nice to write again. I need to do this more often.

ciao bella.

it’s been awhile tumby.

I think I realized why my anxiety has been worse than usual in the last few months. I stopped writing :3 I miss the days when i’d fill my leather bound journals of nonsense and ramblings.

isn’t it a little weird how we all have this innate desire for affection, and yet, our current society attempts to condition us into these...I don’t even know what you would call it...love yourself-be single-yolo-polyamorous-ego on the surface-sack of bones? and I won’t lie, I’ve fallen prey to it. I get so caught up in these moments of numbing myself out, that when I start to feel certain emotions again, I just get so uncomfortable. almost as if you’ve failed yourself in a way.

as if loving yourself isn’t enough.

the worst part about being so empathetic towards humanity, is that experiencing your own emotions, sometimes isn’t enough. and it’s really fucking awful haha. like I already have a hard enough time processing what’s going on inside my head. I've reached this threshold of existence where I simply cannot allow myself to be as emotionally available as I have been in the past. I don’t know if you’d call it being vulnerable, but it’s definitely not about being naïve.

i’m just tired of explaining haha. i’m tired of opening up and telling the story of how I came to be the person that I am. it’s a lot.

and when you begin to tell yourself these things, it just becomes a reality. you do not have the ability to love.

I know that’s a very emo thing to say lololol but in a way, it’s true. I don’t know how to explain it. I don’t know how to explain anything.

maybe it’s because this last one got me fucked up. being trapped in something for almost 2 years when you knew you wanted out from the beginning. but every time he’d cry or threaten his life, the guilt just continued to eat me alive. I really thought he was going to kill himself.

but here we are. it was like one of those sticky gummy hand things you’d throw on the wall xD that hand smacked me in the face and was like “BOOM BITCH. Here are some feels out of nowhere! May the odds be ever in your favor.” like why. I did not ask for this D: I get so sick to my stomach sometimes. not in a bad way, but I think it’s just really overwhelming to have feelings for someone again.

i’m probably going to wake up tomorrow, read this, and have to reevaluate my life a bit xD

ciao bella.

it was all a dream.

i used to read Word Up magazine. Salt-n-Pepa and Heavy D up in the limousine.

lol jk. i wish.

everything is...every thing is...every, thing, is - replaceable.

things // money // feelings // people 

except for CATS. my cats are irreplaceable. 

i write this as tom tom’s cat butt is 39% on my face. with his claws attempting to puncture into my silky flesh - this is the definition of love.

maybe my voice professor was right. maybe i should’ve been a writing major. but fukk - as someone who understands and values technique, you cannot sit here and tell me that there is a right and wrong way to write. 

and i simply cannot agree that there is a right and wrong way to act. who are you to tell me that my art [which is subjective] doesn’t display passion? that this isn’t where “my heart lies”?? i lost faith in everything i knew as soon as i went to college. 

13 years.

thirteen years - i ruined my mind and psyche over it.

they don’t warn you about the politics in art that arise when you become an adult. they don’t tell you, that as an adult actor, you’re going to feel exactly the same as when you were in high school. they don’t tell you, that even in stage performance, if you’re not beautiful & skinny - you won’t book work. 

i went from booking show after show to commercial to industrial to indie films...only to boomerang into a pit of uncertainty. as an adult actor, i got so lost in my mind that i couldn’t handle it anymore. something once innocent and filled with a raging fire...quickly turned into a cacophony of doubts and voices unexplainable. 

how the fuck am i supposed to believe that my craft is my own?

no one from that program even speaks to me anymore. they just see me as some burn out party girl who goes to music festivals and does the marijuanas. 

i don’t even smoke D:

i will never regret the day i found SIMshows. that company has played such a pivotal part in my life. that company gave me reason and gave me purpose. i never thought i’d ever want to go back to school. but shit - because of them, i do.

finding someone who understands isn’t easy though. someone who is somewhat sane and isn’t addicted to drugs and fucking on warehouse floors. 

so what do you do?

fill that void with airline tickets, 4am well drinks, and exchanging eye contact and shy sighs. 

“all you care about is that.”

‘i’m sorry.’

“you’re supposed to put me first.”

‘i’m sorry.’

“how can you put our relationship last?”

‘i’m not sorry.’

i’m done letting men dictate what i should and shouldn’t prioritize. especially men who act more like my children than my partners. i’m not ashamed to say that i’ll put my work before anyone else. my work defines who i am and my happiness is the ultimate.

even if it means being alone. even if it means yearning the occasional satisfaction of affection. fingertips grazing the small of your back while your toes start to slightly curl - every moment in slow motion - bitten lips and clenched souls. dripping with empty promises***

^^^is it really worth it?

i’ll continue on. i always said that no one ever truly knows anyone. and i think that’s okay.

i think it’s enough.

i’ll continue on.

ciao bella.

even after all this time, you still haunt me.

a dream. on christmas eve. 

i mean, you have got to be kidding me.

the dream was so vivid. i replay it, over and over in my head. 

i could see that your face had aged. the lines in your face when you smiled. the facial hair poking through the sides of your face but not fully grown. 

i wanted to write this post a few hours after i had woken up...but i couldn’t bring myself to. now, i have forgotten the majority of the dream-but maybe that’s for the best. 

the only image that replays in my mind...is you sitting next to me, on the left hand side. our arms were slightly touching. we never kissed, we never hugged...we simply just sat next to each other. making eye contact as you smiled that smile of yours.

and i remember thinking, “This is our second chance. You gave me a second chance.” 

but in the dream, i then received a call from Colton. telling me he was in danger. there must’ve been a lot of black ice on the ground while he was driving back to us. and i remember feeling this heavy weight, tug on my stomach. like, i needed to make a decision.

you or him.

and while i may have been physically with you...my emotions, my heart...my cotton mouth...it all pointed in the direction of Colton.

so i don’t know. maybe this is a sign from the universe. that i made the right decision. but at the same time, i always feel so conflicted. i still miss you. i still think about the last few months we had together and about how awful of a girlfriend i was to you. regardless of whether or not i had already fallen out of love. i made you the monster i had painted you out to be in my mind. maybe we were both toxins. like, how in the hell did we think we were going to work out?? I was 18, and you were 22...i was a child. and i admit that. i wasn’t anywhere near to being an adult. i didn’t know what i wanted yet i expected so much out of you. and i’m sorry. i’m so so sorry, and i’ll never stop being sorry. the things i wish i could’ve said to you, the things i wish i would’ve done differently. 

but life is all a learning experience.

at least, that’s what they say. 

i don’t know why i haven’t fully let go yet. i really don’t. i mean, times may be rough with Colton sometimes...but i’m happy with us. i have many regrets about what happened between you and i but that’s just what happens in life. i can’t change it now.

but i just wanted to say i’m sorry. i’m still sorry. i’ll always be sorry. i don’t even know why i’m wasting my time writing this when i know you won’t read it. maybe it helps me release some of this guilt that i have. i was so awful to you in the last month. i completely treated you as a ghost...and that was so wrong of me.

you’d be so proud of the accomplishments i’ve made. how much i’ve matured. how i view money and finances. what i want to do with my life and music. 

why can’t i just let you go.

anyway, i can’t write anymore. i’ll just keep rambling on and on and just lose my shit. wherever you are, whatever you’re doing...i wish you well.

always & forever.

ciao bella.