the 10, 17 in the morning hour
this is a private journal that might one day be famous - but it won’t be because it won’t be - therefore, this is a private journal. Stop thinking of a nonexistent strangers perception of a blog post that they’ll never read.
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its only just us here, sitting together in this moment, trusting each other, knowing each other and feeling each other’s soul in the closest way. the coziest, warmest and most lonely way.
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since its just our room, our space and our trust in this space - talk to me. don’t fear us, don’t worry about us. we know you, we’ve been with you and we’ve forgiven you because we love you. this is space that I hold for you, this is the space that I will always hold for you - because can I remind you? i love you. tell me what’s on your mind.
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okayyy, let me relax. my shoulders are tense and I can’t really focus - I dissociate a lot!! UGH, okay? Will you still love that I can barely understand anything anyone is saying. Imagine having a dream of meeting the coolest people you’ve met so far in life, but, imagine having this dream for your whole life and then once its finally actualized into reality imagine not being able to hear a goddamn thing they say because your head is so fucking weighted down from the past. Imagine that - having a piece of your dreams and not even being conscious - she’s not even present. she’s barely there. yell all you want, tell me my failures, I’ll barely remember what you’ll say ... ok, I’ll remember it but maybe once I’m done remembering this memory of my ex holding my hand and telling me that I’m the prettiest girl he’ll ever know... giving me a back handed foreshadowing compliment. once I’m done replaying him, then I’ll be present I say. but wait it gets worse, it wasn’t just him. it was her, him and then all of them.
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wow-it must suck having to care about the people who no longer care about you and have created an entire reality where your energy is no longer felt. but you still remember their smell and how the weather felt when you were with them, don’t you?
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always, that’s the hardest part about loving people more than you love yourself - they will never be there when you need you, but they’ll be part of the reason you need you.
w.i.
