#latenightnotes

You and I, we connected, F. my friend called you boytoy (it was just a joke between the girls). But you... And I .. we brought each other out. Sad though. It's sad we hadn't fully healed. We were nice. In a way that we connected, we accepted (tried accepting) only that our fear of the last got in the way. The insecurities. You taught me how to speak again. And I wouldnt change a single thing about us. We tried we failed. We needed to heal. I need to heal, still. I wish you hadn't disappeared. I think of you time to time. Are you okay? Are you still doing that Jon you hate? Or have you gone for where your passion lies. We clicked you know. I think of you at times. Do you still spend days in your room? Phones away? Tired, frustrated, can't scream, spending hours in the shower just to let it all out? I wonder..what was.the point of sharing all these information because now I have questions. Why do we share parts of ourselves to leave nothing behind but the knowledge onyou really not liking saint's cake. Or your go-to coffee. Your video games and my math prep while I take breaks to learn what you play.i used to lose you but Id keep up. Because you love it and I want to learn what you love feel what you love know what you love. We both tried.

These little things.. such simple acts of addressing each other. Such complex bonds. And I am so scared of feeling it all.

This isn't a post just about you. These are what I miss. The hollowness and the cold. These are what my blanket's made of. And you know what, they are out there. But I am tired. I am tired of finding one person out of many many many. One person with whom it flows. It's so difficult to get swayed with the flow and once you do, you forget how to stand still. How to take one step at a time because you want it all, you want to give it all because it has been Soo long. To be accepted, to be taken in, a family, to be adored. I found someone else. It's tragic too. Maybe I'll write about it some other day till then, let's keep coping. Whatever coping means .

I’m starting to fall, and I think you might be too.  When you open your eyes, those puddles of blue scan across my pores, my wrinkles, my dimples.  I pick crusties out of your eyes and you cradle my face with a palm that radiates a heat so intense I can feel freckles popping up all over my cheeks.  We feel the callouses on the tips of each others fingers, you examine all of my rings and I examine how silly my little fingers look compared to yours.

To get over insecurities. Simply forget about everything and learn to love yourself, accept yourself they say. Everyone deals with things differently but honestly my insecurities have taken control of my life so early on that evrything that i am is linked to them. They are not an " excuse for me to use when i dont wanna try". They are not as shallow as excuses. They are real. Like the blood in my veins they are my life, pumped into every part of my life. To avoid shopping trips because i disnt want to go through the pain of seeing others fit in everything and anything when i struggle to fins a size, to twitcht and pull down my shirt to hide my "fat", to avoid taking pictures with girls so that i wont have to go through the pain of looking at them later and hating how i am the fat and ugly oone in the bunch. Not wanting to paricipate in learning how to ddo back flips because i didnt want to be lifted and let people know how heavy i am. Its heartwrenching when i try to open up and try to explain to people how i feel and in return i am told things like your just making excuses. They are not. They are the reason i act the way i do and they are the reason i cry at night. You dont cry for excuses.

When i say fit in, many tell me, you dont fit in you make your place but fitting in is not about being similar to a group of people and being apart of the group, its about being accepted for who you are and being apart of that group for that reason.

If you want to be interresting , let loose and enjoy yourself, talk to people i was told. Easier said then done when you are outgoing and love being around people. When your at least confident about one thing. Some dont understand that "interresting" is subjective. when i say im not fun, i get told its because i dont try well its ironic how i should "try" to be someone i am not when i was just told to make my place for who i am..

I am a failure, says the voice in my head. I am not good enough. Everything i love, want and aspire, my interrest, in everything i am good at nothing. Yes i love animals and i want to work with them but am i ever going to be able to do so? Am i good enough to get in to my program? So far i was told i am not. I love xrawing but am i great? No. Practice they say. If only practice can give you originality, if only practice can give you inspiration...

Maybe i jave the potential if i studied, i i worked hard. But i wonder how, how do i work hard and study when im working verh hard trying to convince myself life is worth living? When everyday, every hour is about how to survive. When does your mind have time to study? How to you get yourself to try when everything just feels blank. When you feel like doing nothing. Its not the type of doing nothing where one is lazy. Itz the type whwmdre you feel lime doing nothing because you cant bring yourself to. You can seem to motivatw yourself to even live, let alone do something.

Selfish... a word that has been echoing in my entire being for hours, months, years. Why is it selfish to want to survive..? Why is it selfish to put yourself before another? Why is it selfish to want to be happy? To be free of pain? Or simply numb to these thoughts?

Sometimes i make up stories in my mind where i am the min character, where i have a totaly different life, where i go through horrible things because uncounsciouly i try to relieve my pain through these stories. Trying to convince myself i could be feeling this pain instead. Sometimes this alter ego is like a sepwrated twin, someone that understands my feelings but has a different life.

Tumblr is kind of like my diary of sorts. I know some people see what i write but thats what makes this "diary" seem alive. I hope no one real reads this because its very personal but at the same time i dont mind because tumblr feels like a safe place where nothing is taken out of the site. I dont feel the need to talk to peopel bout his because ive tried explaining but all i ever get are anwsers that ztab me right in the heart.  Anwsers that hurt so much because its so full of misunderstandings and judgement. Even if i write a millions pages i would still be unable to properly explain all that drowns me inside.

Just a random thought before i sign out, the sentence structure and the grammar of this whole post is a travestie really.  Disasterous. But thats the beauty of a late night note right? Nothing is revised, nothing is thougth twice, only written down as soon as it passes the mind.

Well until next time.

Note to nothing, who haunts my days.