Bright Lights, Big City

[bright-lightsbigcity]

Entry 32: Warmth

Happiness was a wonderful warmth. It was all consuming. It was a narcotic that one hoards and saves. It can be so light and it can be so strong. But damn, when it's gone. You never realized that it was blinding you. Keeping you from seeing and working through all the other darkness. 

Learning to live in the dim. 

Sadness can be peaceful and cold can be calm. Frozen statues glow in their own way. They stand, unbreakable. Strong, ridge, unmovable. But this sun, it melts and it erases so much. What was once chiseled away lies in melt for one puddle cannot be distinguished from another. 

So you feel the warmth and you want to believe it is good. It should stay. But daylight has a dark side. And we never know which side we are going to get. 

Warmth will never let you burn with it. And the cold will never let you move. Our emotions control us.

Ambivalence sustains us. 

To be warm is to give up control and lay aside your strength. Cold is hard and unbending. End in ash or end in time. 

Oh this warmth was good. Oh this cold was quiet. Oh to be, part of both and live at peace. 

[onlinecounsellingcollege]

“It’s okay to be sad. You don’t owe anyone a performance of being okay when you feel like you’re falling apart.”

— Daniell Koepke

[bright-lightsbigcity]

Entry 31: rigid cold and dead

I have a pain.

I want to take the dagger by its hilt. Lace my fingers around the staff. I want to hold my arms outstretched and close my eyes. I want to thrust the point of the blade into the middle of my chest. I want to pull the blade out and drop the dagger. I want to collect the blood in my cupped hands. It will spill over the sides. I want to cry with relief and wait until the pain of a beating heart disappears. I want a body that is rigid cold and dead.

[bright-lightsbigcity]

Entry 30: I get it now

That feeling of not being able to do anything right. Yes. I get that. More often then not. 

I remember siting in a coffee shop before work, getting it right. 

I remember sitting in the passenger seat in Oakville, getting it right. 

I remember standing at work, before the morning chats, getting it right. 

I can do it. And when I can’t. I feel as if I never have. All my past moments are forgotten. I am a terrible person. The shadow of my failures are strong. Or so they seem. Like the wizard, hiding behind a curtain. Presenting himself as a bigger better version of himself. To insight fear. That is what my failures do. They insight fear. That I will never be and have never been loved. 

I didn’t really know love. At all until I spent time figuring it out. Actually thinking about it and what it means. Is love that important. Or can you make do with passive cohabitation? I have an altered reality on this. I am a twisted person. My crazy is hard to love. Even by me. 

I think I get it now. The hardships and the lessons learned. I think I understand what it all means. The growth in who I am turning into is happening. I am the grown up in the stories I read. I am the experienced. The leader and the mature. The one with all the answers. I know this because I ask questions. And in asking questions I have learned how to answer. 

I get it.

[bright-lightsbigcity]

Entry 29: Put to-get-here

It’s been a while. I remember this going well. I remember emotions falling into words so easily. I was all put together, even though I wasn't. Now, I am put together. Now, I know what I want. Now, I have what I want. 

Things are different. I feel different. I can cope with more, believe in myself more and anticipate more. I can deal. 

Ugh, I still don't feel like I am enough of anything to be different. How many changes have I really made? I'm stubborn and explosive. I found a voice to scream louder not be better. I mix those too up a lot. That’s not good. None of this feels good. Shouldn't I just know when things are .... good? 

Why does growing up feel like throwing up. Copying others and beating down the competition. You learn your strengths so you can shine brighter, not level up. 

I am this same little girl, in this same little bed. Nothing seems in control. I feel so alone in this journey. What is my purpose?

[bright-lightsbigcity]

Entry 28

Somebody once told me that it’s better to write things down than to type them. But my brain thinks faster than my hands can print. Because of this, I don’t get to say all that I want. And I do have a lot to say. 

I have been stabbed. In back. It is a sharp knife. I am no longer a child because I am terrified of everything. Isn’t that what adulthood is? Being constantly afraid. I hate everything. Life sucks and the world is an unhappy place. All I see is pain. The optimistic child that I really never was has completely vanished. Not that she was there to begin with. I am an old soul they say. I have seen many things and this has taught me to be smart. But I am as smart as I am dumb. I am as adult as I am a child. I am losing at life. Yes it is a competition. Yes I have failed. Don’t rub it in. Don’t tell me I’m lucky. 

[bright-lightsbigcity]

Entry 27: I thought this had ended but here I am again

It’s one of those days where I just want to stab myself in the eyeball. I can’t put into words exactly how annoyed I feel, I just feel it. I listen to everyone else god damn needs all the time. Everyone else has so much other shit going on and I jump at the chance to make the feel better. God, I have no one. I used to have this one person but he can’t help how I’m feeling. Completely and totally misunderstood. Like a an abstract painting. A stupid, complicated, hot mess on a piece of paper that no one can interpret and if they do, they’re wrong. 

People suck. Today, people suck. Family sucks. I have such a dysfunctional family. It has ruined so many different aspects of my life. As an adult, I’m getting so good karma back from it all but not enough make me feel any better. 

A large lump in my throat exists every time I think about how shitty I feel. Everything sucks. I just feel so damn broken. I’m angry. Incredibly angry about everything. I want to sit in the dark and cry. 

What the fuck is happening anymore? 

[bright-lightsbigcity]

Entry 26: Exit

I talk about running away a lot. Sometimes literally and sometimes not. A metaphorical restart on life. Going back and changing the choices that have led me here. I am poised and I have chosen. But there is a certain pleasure in running. Freedom. Quiet. Choice. It wouldn't be painless but it would be just enough to make you feel alive. Like you can take care of yourself and your problems are your own. A sense of identity that wouldn't need to be changed or altered to fit others. To be accepted. It can be your individual way to rule your world. And no one else's. But could you do it alone?

[bright-lightsbigcity]

Entry 25: Balance

Hate isn’t consuming unless you let it consume you. Hate is a simple truth. It is as simple as love and passion and dedication. Hate is not anger or pain thought it may be caused by such. Hate is a statement of feeling. You do not have to justify it, nor do you have to ignore it. You are allowed to hate and be hated. Because you are allowed to love and be loved. The world is not made out of love or hate. It is a balance. I hate some people. I have reasons but I do not need them. I do not kill or harm them. I am not plagued by my hatred because it is a truth of my life. The person who I have become and who I love has to hate this person. If I did not I would be dishonest with myself and the person that I try to protray. I hate. I love. And that is not a bad thing. 

[bright-lightsbigcity]

Entry 25: Numb

Being angry doesn’t make anything better. You don’t even really feel better. You just feel helpless and stuck. I wish to question all the decisions that I have made because it could have been better, if only I...? What? Left? Ran away? Gave up. Jumped off a cliff. Climbed out a window. Took a risk and failed. 

I truly thought that I had. I could be daring and safe at the same time. No. You can’t do that. You can’t be happy and sad at the same time. People think they are but their just numb. Numb people are the most emotionally intelligent. They felt their own pain and they made it stop. Everyday doesn’t hurt but it doesn’t feel good either. That’s okay. 

Days begin and end the same. It’s almost peaceful. 

[bright-lightsbigcity]

Entry 24: 20 years

Do feel the cold now? It started on the inside. Didn’t it? 

You’re not talking but I can see your thoughts. 

Do you see better now? Your eyes are closed. 

It feels good to cry. And then it does’t. 

How much longer? Do you think? 

Time has passed, yet you still feel small. Maybe you never stopped being small. No one ever built you up. No one tried. 

[bright-lightsbigcity]

Entry 23: Silence

It is silent. Where it once was loud. Screams. Tears pouring out. An explosion of heartache. The goodbye singled the end. There was silence. It is nothing. Where it once was wild. Music. Dancing through the days. A time of peace. The goodbye singled the end. There was nothing. It is painful. Where it once was pleasure. Peace. Swing sets and picnics in parks. A time of euphoria. The goodbye singled the end. There was pain.

[cloudedsunshine]

She was a lightening bolt who was told to turn down the light. They never knew, she could burn them all

Lauren (via cloudedsunshine)

[bright-lightsbigcity]

Entry 22: Sunday

The end and the beginning of a week. A period of your life that contained moments of misery or love or anger or nothing at all. To reflect on ones life through weeks are similar to photos and journal entries.

My life is a week. Sometimes they are long. Sunday's are new weeks. I suppose that is subjective to other people. But I have chosen this day because it is a reflection of everything. As well as a day of beginning.

[bright-lightsbigcity]

Entry 21: Dark Days

[bright-lightsbigcity]

Entry 20: Hate

I understand hate. I’ve hated many people. But none more than this one person in particular. Anyone who knows me in the slightest knows who this person is. I don’t hide it. I may have hidden it in my youth. But not anymore. Now I am an adult. Which means very little - yes I know that - but I feel like I have more power as an adult. It’s a lie. Adulthood doesn’t give power. Children have more power than they will ever know. And I wish that as a child I could have stopped this person that I hate. I wish I knew how she would ruin my life. But then, I wouldn’t understand hate. And maybe that’s a good thing.

[bright-lightsbigcity]

Entry 19: Enough

Everyone thinks life shouldn’t be as hard as it is. But no one really knows how hard life is actually supposed to be. There isn’t a scale or a medium to measure. It’s life experiences that ruin you. My life has barely begun and I want it to be over. This isn’t depression. This is exhaustion of being treated like crap. I just want it to end. And I can’t wait anymore. To try and leave or escape. Be adult enough. I’m never going to be adult enough. I will forever remain a stupid little girl in their eyes.

Enough of this crap. This is not how I want to live. I am tired of coming home and being miserable. This isn’t a family. This is a hellhole. At least once I’m gone, everyone will be happier. Because I’m the root of their problems. I’m the trouble maker. I can’t do anything right. Now ever. So I should just leave. The emotional damage is done. I am empty.