Maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m the one that needs to do more meditation and more soul searching and more reading and more writing, but I think I’m just tired of it. I’m tired of always being the one to “dig deep.”
I’m tired of always being the one that puts in a hundred and twenty because everyone else doesn’t cut it.
I’m exhausted with being the one that is always on time and always has to wait. The one that really goes home when they say they’re going home. The middle person. The one that always listens. The one that for some reason actually gives a shit even though that is most of the time not returned. I don’t understand.

I’m always the one who is falling apart, I feel like. I never know what to do about this.
Crying in bathrooms and carrying makeup with you so that you can fix it should you smear it with crying it ridiculous and getting old.

I really want consistency in a positive way. Not consistently rude, selfish, ignorant people.
I want the reap what I’ve been sewing already. There is always light at the end of the tunnel, but sometimes this just feels like a dead end.
But who am I supposed to bother with these thoughts?
Certainly not anyone who happens to have even the slightest thing going on. Which would be everyone.
News flash:
We’re all going through some great battle. I hear about yours all the fucking time and you complain and complain and complain and complain about NOTHING. Boohoo, you hate this and you hate that.
Shut up and listen to me for a minute.
Seems like if I do just decide to plow through someone else’s day and just talk about me, they get offended at the thought of us not discussing their terrible lives.
I have feelings too.
I have needs too.
I find things out, I’m not stupid.
I feel like… everything ends at some point. It could be great, but it’ll just end anyway.
I’m losing hope and don’t know who I should dare bother with this anymore.
I’d hate to hassle a loved one.

Fuck it.

-Me

He holds me when I’m crying and listens to my girly meldowns.
He makes me breakfast or any other meal when I ask.
He takes me on dates.
He makes reservations.
He surprises me all the time.
He remembers anniversaries.
He trusts me.
He’s seccure in himself.
He kisses my forehead and my cheeks.
He holds my hand.
He holds my face when he kisses me.
He tickles me just to hear me laugh.
He’s funny.
He laughs at my jokes.
He watches girl movies with me.
He thinks the weird things I do are cute.
He thinks I look pretty with or without makeup. And tells me so.
He notices when I change my hair, or my makeup, or am wearing special perfume.
He gives me massages when my back hurts and when it doesn’t.
He takes care of me when I’m sick, even if he feels awful too.
He makes me mix cds filled with love songs.
He kisses me infront of his friends.
He stands up for me.
He plays with my hair until I fall asleep.
He dresses well all on his own.
He has great hair.
My mom loves him.
His parents love me and I love them.
He will lay around with me all day if I ask him to. Or even if I don’t ask.
He kisses me before he leaves for school in the morning.
He buys me jewelry.
He takes me places.
He holds my hand when I’m getting tattooed.
And not one day has gone by where he hasn’t told me how much he loves and cherishes me. Not one.

How did I get this lucky?
So many girls want a boy just like him.
And I got him?
Is lucky even a big enough word?

I am going to marry this one.

Some things have been bothering me as usual, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.
I just don’t understand some things. It’s very confusing how things seem to get fixed and then when they start looking up, they just fall back to little pieces like they were never fixed to begin with. I suppose I should be thankful for what I have, however. An amazing mom, she understands anything and everything I am going through or have been through. There aren’t many things I keep from her, and the things I do keep are more for just personal reasons rather than fear that she will get mad. I keep telling myself that some things should be private although I tend to hate that.

I have a great brother. Who is also super understanding and a blast to hang out with. I wish he hung out more. His work schedule is silly however and that keeps us from kicking it more often. Still though, if I knew we were going to hang out, I would stay up till he got off of work more times than not.

Then theres my boyfriend. Also amazing. Sometimes it’s hard for me to wrap my head around how blessed I am in the friend/family/boyfriend department. He is so great. There aren’t very many things he does wrong, and if he somehow does, he always makes them right. I try not to be retarded and bitter from dating an asshole for so long because I know that the current boyfriend, and man I am going to marry are the furthest thing from the asshole I wasted a year with. I feel bad whenever I get overly protective about stuff and get all momish on him. I never mean to. I just can’t help it. I’m so protective. I have so much invested in him that I just can’t bear the thought of something ruining that. He is far too good of a catch to let go. So, I’m keeping this one.

I’m pretty happy with the way things have been going lately. I’ve stepped out of my comfort zone a little bit with a few things and am honestly proud of myself.
Also, I have finally gotten to the point where I just don’t give a rat’s ass about people that suck anymore. It’s the best feeling. I just… dont… care.
I can’t explain it, but it’s a fucking relief, I can tell you that.

Then… on to the touchier subjects… Maybe I’ll feel better when I get this out. It’s not as if anyone reads this anyway, so I guess I’m in the clear.

I’m beginning to become increasingly worried that there is for some reason no way I can fully repair the relationship with my dad. I seriously don’t know what else to do. I txt him atleast monthly to ask how he’s doing or tell him I thought of him or ask when he’ll be in town. He txts me back, which always excites me and makes me delightfully happy and feel all warm inside. But he never makes plans, even when I ask him to. I just don’t understand what I’m doing wrong. I thought I nailed the meet and greet with WifeFace. But, apparently not. Although, she was the one that wouldn’t stop talking over my dad or discussing politics. Two things my dad hates doing at the dinner table, but was totally fine with her doing. I’m gonna be honest, it also really pissed me off that she interrupted me to correct me on a “fact” that I was unaware of. Probably because it wasn’t a “fact” in the first place. She wanted to tell me that gymnasts were PRONE to eating disorders. Is she serious with that? She’s got to be kidding me. It was so rude and my dad didn’t do anything to defuse the situation. I was baffled. However… at the end of the weird and somewhat uncomfortable meal she hugged me and told me I needed to come to chattanooga to visit and that I should bring my boyfriend.
I would love to do this. And have told my dad about a thousand times that I would love to do this. It never happens. I have no idea why. WHAT am I doing wrong here, honestly? I kissed ass to WifeFace when I didn’t even want to meet her, I somehow forgave him for telling me on Christmas Eve that he was getting married on the 10th. I also forgave him for not telling me he had moved. Who doesn’t tell their kid they’re moving away? I forgave. I just accepted what was happening around me like always and got on with it. Why can’t he just invite me for the weekend? Just one weekend. That’s it. I just want to be a part of his life.
I want this to stop being a constant stress in my life.
But, I don’t want to just give up on it and let it go. I don’t want to have to awkwardly be walked down the isle by someone I barely know by then when I get married. I just want him to be as excited about my life when he’s away as he is when he actually makes dinner plans with me. That’s all I’m asking for. Just shoot me a note asking how MY day went or how the person I’M in love with is. Just be involved. I don’t know how else to put it to him… I’ve tried email, phone calls, meeting up in person, txt messages. Everything.

I feel bad for not getting him a chrismas present.
I didn’t even know what to get. He didn’t call. It killed me. He never calls on special days, and I never know why.

I really miss him. I’m afraid that every time I see him he will look older and older and then just one day not be there. I’m terrified of this. I’m so terrified of only knowing my dad well enough to sit down and have dinner once every five months up until he’s gone.

I want to be a daddy’s girl.
But even more than that,
I want him to want me back.

The End.

I keep promises.
I remember birthdays.
I love harder than I can even express.

But I am never. never. good enough.

One day… I will get something perfect. The sun will be shining and the sky will open up and life will be amazing. One day.
One day… I will meet all of the expectations I have hanging just above my head.
One day… I will make it on my own. I will swim instead of sink. I will keep my head held high.
One day… I will be able to meet the standards I have set for myself.
One day… I will find a place where I fit.
One day… My life will stay full of love and happiness.
One day… Someone won’t give up. They’ll stay.

Fingers crossed.

“You are so negative. You need to look at the brightside more often.”
That haunts me. Because I wasn’t negative at the time. And I don’t consider myself a negative person today, either. It hurt because it was a ridiculous incorrect statement that was said in form of a fact. Me, the negative one? How? How was I the one that was negative? Christ, we barely spoke. I’m the one that cries in the shower so that no one will know when I get out. I’m the one that keeps it all inside. I barely say anything at all, or atleast I didn’t. So how could I be pinned as the negative one? And isn’t pointing out something someone else is doing that you don’t like negative? But what if they’re not even doing the thing you “pointed out”? Because I wasn’t. It hurt. And it changed everything instantly.

Everything got pushed further back into my thoughts.
If I could be called negative and told I was taking things for granted when I barely spoke… Could I be called the same things if I didn’t speak it all?

Nope. It worked. “You’ve been being really positive lately.”
Have I? I just stopped talking.
I didn’t know that was the trick to it.
Hey, this pretending isn’t so bad. I think I’ve got the hang of it.
“Good morning!” “I’m great! How are you?” “I rule. My life is perfect!”
This isn’t so bad. And then disaster hits.

No one told me that all of those thoughts, all of those feelings that I pushed away…
They each weighed just a tiny bit on my heart.
And then they built up after time.

And the weight gets too much to handle.
And I end up crying. Hard.
Then after a few days… It goes away. Like I have a clean slate, almost.

The next thought comes, and I tuck it away.
This seems easier than “complaining” like everyone else does.
I don’t want to ruin anyone else’s day.

And most of all,
I just don’t want to be pinned as the negative one ever again.
It was one of the heaviest thoughts of all.

All my life I’ve wanted to own a venue. “You should do that!” “Go for it!” “Great idea!” “You’ll be so good at that!” ….
And then suddenly.. OhNoNo, that won’t work.

I didn’t go to public highschool. Therefor, I am not smart.
I don’t understand why no one gets this. I am not book smart. I’m just not.
I am well spoken compared to most people here. That is it.
I cannot go to college. It’s not a matter of if I want to or not, its that I literally, am NOT SMART ENOUGH.

So, thats out.
And apparently, I’m just a royal fuck up that can’t get anything right.
Ya know, no big.

My dad was right.
MY FUCKING DAD WAS RIGHT.

I shouldn’t have ever had dreams, I shouldn’t have ever been told to follow them, I shouldn’t have, I shouldn’t have, I shouldn’t have.
I feel so stupid.

I should’ve just gone to public school. Graduated highschool. Gotten into college.
Gotten a normal fucking 9-5 job.

I’m not even good enough to get that.

I am fucking worthless.

I feel like I’m being forced into this day in-day out adulthood that I never wanted.
The thought of getting a job I don’t love makes my stomach turn.
I try to stay positive and I try to stay upbeat, if nothing else, for everyone else.

But, honestly…
This terrifies me. I do not want this.
I do not want a 9-5. I do not want dress clothes. I do not want coworkers and bosses and bullshit.

I’m not smart enough to go to college. I don’t have even the first idea as to how to jump into this and land on my own two feet.
I feel like giving up.

I want so many things.
I want someone to have a 6th sense about ME.
I want someone to call ME to see if I’m having a good day.
I want my heart to stop hurting.
I want this winter to be different.
I want to own a venue. A successful venue.

I want someone to understand.
I want someone to notice when my heart is hurting.
And if they notice, I want them to care. Not scold me for letting it show.

I want different. Just different.
I want to be doing it right.
I’m tired of these damn bumps in the road.

I’m tired of being up at night, with a sick feeling in my stomach because I’m worried about someone. And an even bigger stomachache knowing that they aren’t thinking about me.

Will this ever stop?

I try to make it but it never seems to stick.
No matter how many times I fight worries and ignore anxiety and push away nightmares.
It comes back.

It just keeps coming back.

I medititate and I journal and I workout.

Nothing.

I still end up caring more about others than they do about me.
I still end up never being the one that gets called “just because.”
I still come up short.

I am terrified.