.A bitter Deja Vu.

✧˖° You're probably in the wrong spot ✧˖°

Not a lot of people live past 60 for whatever reason. This generation.

Why don't I have a house. Why am I not financially stable. Why haven't I Kickstart my career in photography.

I was proud, so excited.

It was looked at once.

I tend to think a lot about how I was so excited to plan a wedding and write things down. Explore places.

Where was the smile?

The suggestions and or ideas only being me.

Imagine walking through the Mac-O-Chee castle because it was the main spot for the potential wedding and you try to search for the excitement and what their ideas and or inputs were but all you get was "I'm just here".

I mean, is that weird of me?

Is it really that weird to want my first wedding to be an actual one and not in a court house because it's very important too me. One of those "It truly only happens one time" things.

Is it really that weird that I want to actually write in a planner with my significant other as they get excited just as I do?

To see them smile and throw out what they're thinking?

To see the affection radiate from their face because it's a whole ass deal to them.

There's just something about planning something so important basically by yourself. It doesn't feel alright.

It didn't feel right.

I'm 30 years old and that daydream sits in a plastic box with an occasional glance and you would hear all the time how they want to marry you and how you're their life but where was that smile when we were sitting in front of the owners talking about potential dates.

30 feels like a loss. The age itself I mean. For whatever reason, 30 feels like that validation of my failures and how I wouldn't be able to achieve and or fix anything after turning said age.

It feels hollow.

Too old for certain things.

Despise.

Baby.

I feel like someone who wouldn't hesitate to take their own life but I'm physically forbidden from actually doing so.

I can't show it.

Why? I don't fucking know.

Which blows my own mind because holy shit the way I always want to run my hands through hair, over skin, through fingers, over clothes. To move. To be dominated. To be the dominant one. My mind is probably so vulgar it'd wipe someone out because that's not what you'd expect of me.

Listen. All the time. I think about it SO MUCH.

I don't want to find it suspicious when someone uses their phone.

I don't want the sound of trains at night to put images in my head.

I don't want to feel like I have to hide from something when meeting friends.

I don't want to listen to my children say they don't like me.

I don't want to be called an idiot by my daughter.

I don't want to feel like I'm the only one who should do the laundry.

I don't want my youngest to speak too me like I'm a piece of shit.

I don't want my children to try shutting the door on me while speaking to them.

I don't want them to disrespect me.

I don't want to hear my children say they hate me.

I don't want to feel like I'm playing puppeteer with a dead body.

I don't want all of these things all over my floor.

Where do I put them.

Why is everything so crowded.

I'm having trouble trying to find it.

The point, I mean.

I know there's a point, really big points with absolute value but what's my point?

Why do I have to be this tired.

I can't explain this feeling to anyone either. No matter as to how I explain, express, how many directions I go, it will not explain how it feels like agony. How it feels like everything is hollow and I'm not meant to move this body. Like it's forbidden. This agonizing, torturous resentment, sadness, anger. A sorrow so heavy it's like living 10 lifetimes through each and every moment and never being able to forget each detail.

How do I explain this sadness without someone experiencing it themselves?

"Oh, you're depressed" "Depression isn't real" "Anxiety isn't real" "You're just anxious" "Why are you so anxious?" "You're just stressed"

- Sometimes it deteriorates my mental state knowing how genuinely invested I am with the way I value friendships.

I always think back to what someone had told me, about how I never think about anyone else, blame those closest too me, never make time, I'm toxic positivity.

I almost feel stupid.

Like a 12 year old losing their friend over a note.

Am I trying too hard to just get a response?

Being a parent is coming back in after watching them wrestle each other before getting on the bus, turning on that speaker, playing your Spotify and making that cup of coffee while trying to contain the needed scream. Trying to breathe because you don't know how to be gentle.

How do I get them to respect me. To respect the words. To listen, care, share, not use everything with a tattle or hit on the other person.

How do I get them to see how ridiculous this is. They're so angry with each other all the time.

The youngest talks to me like pure shit but so polite and thoughtful in front of a teacher.

In one ear and out of the other 24/7.

Where is the patience. I find it slipping so far lately and I dont want it to lash out.

I did it again. May this be the last time as well.

° Tuck my hair away behind my ear.

° Rub my back.

° Stare at me with such longing it makes me embarrassed.

° Seeing your smile out of pure excitement just to see me.

° You WANTING to involve yourself in anything and everything to do with me and my hellhounds.

° Be so obsessed but not in a toxic way.

° Consider the relationship a priority, top 3 at least.

° Be clingy.

° Lay your chin on my head while standing behind me.

° Randomly hug me.

° Hold my damn hand because you WANT to.

° Show me you want it. All of it and every bit of it.