floating mind

Can I surrender to my heart’s changing, opening up to itself now?

I am breaking free. I can and will live according to My truth. I can cut through the noise in my mind and actually listen. I can get out of the mental prison in which I have put myself for approval I cannot receive as I can only be a bad imitation of what is wanted by others.

I hope maybe the same thing can happen with anyone that reads this. It takes time and I'm still working on it. But every time I look back at where I used to be I see how much I've grown. Maybe we can grow into the people we want to be one compassionate thought at a time together.❤️

I haven't written anything in a while. I haven't thought I've had anything worth sharing to say. Lately though, I have been thinking about what is worth sharing. Funny stuff? Relatable stuff? Does a thing have to be 'worth it' to share it? Maybe not. Depends on you. I mean, a lot of what people talk about is just whatever they want, right? Whose to say people will like it? I mean, someone has to, right? There's so many people in the world at least one other person will see value in your thought. Who's it for anyway? You? Them? It's you, isn't it? I guess that really is what makes it worth sharing. The fact you had the thought and decided 'I feel like putting it out there!' That's a good enough reason because that YOUR thought and everything else is just... not important.

I wish I was more confident. Confident enough to carry my height and side with the high head and straight back it deserves. Confident enough to say what I think and own it. Confident enough to not feel the need to soften what I say because I don’t think it carries enough weight. Confident enough to know that when I don’t want something it’s okay to not take it. Confident enough that when I realise there’s something about myself I actually like I don’t immediately try to shut it down and explain it away. Confident enough to know something about myself and have no one shake that knowledge. Confident enough to know that I’m not fucking perfect but I’m good. Confident enough to change what I can and accept what I can’t change. Confident enough to look at my future and believe it can exist. I really fucking wish.

As much as I’ve come to understand that being like everyone else is really not a bad thing, I still wrestle with the fact that no one will ever want to write a book about me but hey, we all gotta start somewhere right? And for me, realising that average isn’t bad is my start.

I couldn’t believe this shit was happening again. I couldn’t believe I had let a guy into my heart when I knew it was going nowhere again. And I kept trying to talk to him even as he got less consistent, as it went from replying the next day to not responding until I’d triple texted. I could not believe I let myself be an idiot again, believing when he told me ‘I was just busy,’ or ‘Ugh, I was so tired I fell asleep as soon as I got home.’ I believed this fucking guy even as I saw the snap stories with the friends he could make time for. I believed all that shit. I thought ‘he still likes you, he does! he just has a lot on his plate right now i’m sure.’ I was a stupid 17 year old chasing another guy that wasn’t there again. And I stared at my phone, at yet another message left on read. I berated myself. My anger at us both boiled. Why couldn’t he just tell me he was losing interest? Is that so hard?! But fuck him. I was the idiot here, I ignored all the signs again. I got all the more enraged! How could he! Did he know how many other people wanted to be in his place! Did I know how many other people wanted to be in his place...? Rage gave way to sadness and self loathing, Why was I like this? Why didn’t I just let go. I start to type to him. “if you don’t like me anymore, why didn’t you just say so?” I cried myself to sleep that night. The next day I woke to a message from him. I couldn’t believe he’d taken less than a day this time. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you.” That was all I got. I removed everything to do with him that I could find; it was all deleted, thrown out, returned. It’s been months now and I still think about him sometimes. Him and the others before him. They’re at the back of my mind as I get ready to meet this new guy, hoping he has the guts to say something when things change, when he realises he likes me more or likes me less. 

Eventually, someone realises the relationship has to end and it’s done. The bridge gets burned. And you look back at it and realise just how shitty it was. And sometimes, if you’re lucky, you look past the ways they fucked up and realise how much you were fucking up too.  

And who I want to be

I look into their eyes looking into mine. I think it means something, the way they’re looking at me. I have my hands in theirs, wrapped up, safe. They tuck my face in the crooks of their neck. They kiss me softly after they say goodbye and watch as way make way to the door. They laugh with me when I’ve done something silly. They are reassuring when I feel anxious. They want to know more when I tell them stuff. They seem genuinely interested in me. So, over and over, I let them in. They raid the rooms of my heart, make it home, whether or not they realise it. Then one day, they get and they leave. And everything that meant something means nothing. Every act of affection, every word of concern, it all comes to nothing. Today I stare in the mirror and I vow never to let them in. No more will words move me. Their eyes staring into mine will no longer see anything. Their lips gently grazing my forehead will no longer stir my heart. Wanting me to meet their friends will become another nothing. Never again will I be affected by the things that seem intimate. My heart will be stone and my touch will be ice from now until the day I die.

You that feeling when you’re in a group of friends and everyone’s talking so you decide to talk but then no one’s listening? It feels that way when I make posts sometimes. Well, sometimes. I make a video, post a selfie, write a poem, share random crap about how my day was going and I know that like maybe one person will notice. It’s like standing in an auditorium for a thousand people but having an audience of one person. It feels like I should just shut up, stop singing, stop typing, stop sharing. But I keep sharing. And I keep wondering why I’m sharing. Then I realise I’m sharing because I feel really good about something. Or I feel really bad about something. Or I just have an opinion. I feel. And maybe, just maybe someone will feel with me too. Maybe someone will like that selfie I like. Maybe someone can relate to my opinion. Maybe someone can soothe my pain or be comforted by the fact they aren’t alone. Maybe no one will even notice, but I got it out. The feelings are to big to keep to myself and I have to put it out to the world, even if only one other person will actually see it.

Now here I am, thinking about you, wondering what you’re doing, trying not talk about you, trying not to talk to you, hating myself for loving you still while you go about your days forgetting I exist. 

She’d drowning for a while now. Drowning, lost at sea. Sometimes she’d think she found something, safety. But no. Nothing. She keeps trying to fight for life, for air, and not water in her lungs. But it’s nothing but her and the water. And she’s losing it. She’s losing consciousness. She can’t do it anymore. She’s going to give in. She’s gonna stop fighting.

I looked outside and couldn’t find the sun. All I could see was rainless clouds. When I woke up this morning, I thought I’d go for a walk later. But later had come and I wasn’t going anywhere. The mood had taken over me. I thought of everything. The person I had unexpectedly and swiftly drifted from, the people I still had but I was too scared to have, the uncertainty of the future. And I was filled with an overwhelming sadness. A sadness that soon became too much to bear. It gave way to numbness, emptiness. I could no longer feel. I could not feel my emotions. I could not feel my fingers. I had grown cold inside. My friend tried to get my attention but I was no longer present. My mood, like the day, was cloud too thick to see the sun.

stood outside the church, waiting for the music that would cue my entry. This was supposed to be the happiest day of my life, but my heart felt like a rock in my chest. I stared at the door, unwilling to move. My maid of honour gently grabbed and squeezed my hand. She knew the pain this was causing me. I was to be wed to a man I barely even knew, a man I definitely did not love. I looked at her, tears in my eyes. I really did not want to do this, I no longer had a choice. I took a deep breath and pulled my hand away ready to walk in. I hoped no one would somehow see the sadness through my veil as I walked down the aisle, everyone looking at me with smiles on their faces. I got to the front and saw my parents. Resentment filled my heart. Why was I being forced to do this? I got to the front and went through the motions, the vows and everything. Well, I did at first. Then I couldn’t. I couldn’t do it anymore. I looked around me, at the bridal train, my parents, the wedding guests, my groom to be, and I just could not do it anymore. I turned away from the unloved man, away from the unwanted marriage, and I ran. I took my shoes off and I ran away from that man, from the charade. I ran into the car I was supposed to walk into with the man that would have been my husband. I drove that car, with words ‘just married’ painted on the back, to the beach, hoping that the person I loved would know to come meet me there. I was going to get away from all this and I was not going alone.

I hadn’t thought about her as a friend in years. I just thought she never liked me. And sure, we make acquaintances and when they stop talking to us, it doesn’t matter. But we got close. We got really close. Then we fell out and drifted. A mutual friend told me she did not really care. I carried that bitterness in my heart for so long. So, so long. I felt horrible for caring about someone that did not care about me. That always seemed to happen to me, caring deeply and thinking they cared too, thinking I was special too, just to find out I was just another person to them. Disposable. Forgettable. Then one day, after I’d been thinking about her all day, I got drunk, like I always do, and I messaged her. I thought ‘fuck it’ and I sent her a message. She responded. I almost didn’t expect her to. I asked her about that time, about our friendship. And she told me all the ways it was special to her. She told me about all the stuff she did with me that she never really did with anyone. Months later, I felt the pain of losing someone that cared just because I thought I was nothing to her.