I don't feel as lonely anymore. If you're a puddle, no one will want to swim in you. I want to be the expanse of an ocean. Greater than love.
I'll be thirty soon. I can't believe how old I look for my age. I just gained a new forehead wrinkle the other day. I'm going to try to just accept myself. I stopped dying my greys because I'm sick of conforming to societies beauty standards. My friends and family have made pretty insensitive comments like oh god you're too young to let yourself go or wow time dye those suckers, bud. (that one did make me laugh). I feel like society accepts men going grey like it's sexy but for a woman it's not? Maybe I'm wrong. I feel so insecure but I'm tired of trying so hard. I don't know what I'm trying to say here.. I'm confused. Happy holidays folks!
I am a lot more hurt and probably scarred from adverse events and illega conversion therapy bullshit than I want to or can admit. l got so scared that I didn't let anyone in my home. I feel so uncomfortable now and want those assholes to have the potential to be in prison. I wish someone was inviting me to brunch because I feel so alone now. I hid it for a while but the burn is deep.
I have a decent job, and I am grateful...but when I put on my tie in the morning I cant help but sometimes feel like a fraud...an imposter. I slither into my costume like a reptile to join all the other reptiles in this real life game of mortal kombat...without the weed and potato chips.
I feel like I am becoming my role/title....soul sucking office zombie living off the commissions of products that you cant even physically touch... Waiting for a baby boomer to retire so that I can replace them in that quest for upper mobility and higher taxes. I have become the enemy that I loathed during my teen years. I used to laugh at guys like me. "Yeah, whats wrong with that guy? Looks like he's got a stick shoved up his *s s" If I had a conversation with my old self and my current self, my old self would probably throw a che guevara book at my face. But then reality sets in. Obligations and deadlines overflowing at the rim. Angry clients...in-laws...Co workers that don't shut up.
When I was 23 years old (circa 2008), I used to work as a barista. We had a pretty good crew. After work we would smoke a few joints and crack jokes about asshat clients. The kinds of people that would shit on us for not getting there milk at a certain temperature. Ironically, I have become one of those people... Slowly. So kids, when you see someone like me on the skytrain....just remember...I too once had a soul.
I often catch myself asking this question. Mentally scrambling to remember what I was last thinking about before being distracted. At least that’s what I thought. Today I realized I needed to answer myself. “I am here”. But where is here? Somewhere that isn’t mine. If this space isn’t mine then where do I go? I am here but I don’t belong here. Where do I belong?
Sometimes I wait till my husband is asleep to please myself and get a good deep sleep. It’s not that I don’t love him with all my heart but he takes awhile to come.
They say you see the whole of your life replay before your eyes. I hope it's true. You see, when I die, I want to relive my youth, remember all of the things I've forgotten, and see again all the people I've ever loved in my life.
Ever since I was twenty or so I gave had a recurring dream about my death. As I age occasionally the dream recurs and each time I get a little more information, the dream is slightly longer. Now I get around a minute or so leading up to my death.
I was invited to a Christmas party next weekend and I just can't. I don't understand how others can. It's not that I'm anti-joy or even anti-social I just am weighed down by all the shit going on and I feel it all so deeply. I weep so easily. My relationships are suffering and I feel mostly alone.
I can’t move on from people, they can screw me over, steal from me, or use me and still I just want to run to them and be held and feel better. I can try to move on for months on end but the feelings always there somewhere inside and I don’t understand why, someone with any dignity would never talk to these people again, and even if I refuse to let myself talk to them I know if they reached out I’d probably go running right into the fire to get burned once again