yikes.

just a place for me to put my thoughts & stuff. mainly whiny bullshit though. main blog: moonlightes

[fivefortythreeam]

11:14 pm, April 10th, 2016. I've hit rock bottom again and I've hit it hard. My mind feels like there's constant screaming and my body feels completely empty.

[fivefortythreeam]

11:21 pm, Easter, 2016. this isn’t edited or reread or anything.

occasionally I’ll realize just how much I look at the floor instead of up ahead. so much of my life has been spent staring holes into cold linoleum or dirty carpet of an indistinguishable color. I’m too afraid to look up. I feel like I’m not supposed to be looking up. If I look up then someone will pass by and wonder why I’m looking at them or why my face looks the way it does. I guess it’s like how I used to always hide my hands up inside long sleeves. I don’t know why I’m trying to hide though. I’m longing desperately for the right person to notice me, feel the kind of longing you can’t just push aside for me. I want people to remember my face and think about me when they think of things that they can’t explain. Like how much they love the way the bottom of their feet look when they’ve turned pink from being under the covers for too long. I want to evoke the kind of happiness and relief in someone that I feel when I think about being alone barefoot on a dim beach with absolutely nothing better to do. Everyday my idea of love changes, and I’m being to drift from the idea that there is the absolute perfect person for you out there that will go to any depth to be with you, and will understand why you think the way you do. I’m starting to believe that that kind of connection doesn’t exist. All that there is is the span of mediocre relationships to those that are one in a million. Life doesn’t promise you shit about who you’ll end up with, if anyone. So I’m gonna keep looking down. I’m going to keep looking down and just hope that the universe will throw someone at me. Someone with more courage to look up than I do.

[fivefortythreeam]

11:44 pm, February 20th, 2016. Loneliness is such a crushing feeling. it suffocates me as I'm laying in bed and it makes me numb to everyone around me. I wish so desperately to be with people and be happy. High school is filled with kids who go out and have fun with their friends and enjoy their lives, and I want so badly to be them. I just want to fucking live my life while I'm still young and without responsibility. But instead I'm at home by 11 o'clock, wishing I was anywhere else in the world.

[fivefortythreeam]

11:40 pm, February 1st, 2016. an ABAB rhyming scheme poem about a universal truth assigned in my AP English class. I will spend hours regretting my decisions watching water drip in the shower as embarrassment stings like incisions there are many things in my past that I wish to forget but life continues to move fast and I cannot waste it on regrets

[fivefortythreeam]

10:33 pm, January 7th, 2016 I haven't written in awhile because I haven't allowed myself to lay down and think for a couple days. I feel things too deeply, and I don't do well with losing people for that reason. I stumble upon people who just get me more than anyone else, and then when they leave I shut down. I'm never searching for my person, but I keep meeting people who make me feel like it's them. Emma said that she sees me fall in love with people, and how attached I get because of how in love with them I am. And maybe I don't have a person. Maybe I'll just live my life falling in love with person after person, and just moving on when they're gone, but holding onto hundreds of happy memories with different people. It just makes a lot of sense to me, and it helps me cope when I get caught up in thinking about the guy I was with on New Year's Eve. I just have to move on, and be happy I had a chance to love him for a night.

[fivefortythreeam]

7:58 pm, January 4th, 2016 I've been thinking and processing too much the past few days, so anything I write wouldn't make sense and would just trail from thought to thought with no correlation. but I'm getting better. I'm telling myself that I'm getting better. I've just realized that where I'm going with my life is not where I want to be, and that I need to come to terms with the way I love people and the ways they love me.

[fivefortythreeam]

1:20 am, December 30th, 2015. This just really fucking sucks. I can't tell you how much I'm in love with you. Partially because I can't explain it, and partially because you probably really don't wanna hear about it. I want consistency but I only want it with you, and I hate myself for letting you back in. I've known for awhile that you're my person. But you have so many other people in your life, and you're hardly ever not drinking. You say it's getting better & that you love me and always will, but I don't know whether or not I can believe you. You're so volatile, which scares me. I'll always mean it when I say I love you, who knows if you'll mean any of this tomorrow. I like to think that I'm special to you. I guess we'll find out in the morning.

[fivefortythreeam]

12:23 am, December 29th, 2015. I have my own set coping methods. It's taken me a few years to figure them out, but I have them. Coping methods are a security blanket. And even if they're silly, they're coping methods. To fuck with the way someone copes is really fucked up.

[fivefortythreeam]

12:17 am, December 29th, 2015. I can’t figure what I’m scared of or what’s really holding me back. I would say I’m afraid of falling in love but I don’t think that’s it. I think I’m more afraid that I won’t fall in love, and then what will I do? I don’t want to hurt anyone, and I put that above my own happiness so often that I’m just miserable while everyone else is enjoying themselves. I don’t know if it’s selfish to dislike that, but it’s the truth. I worry so much about if everyone is having a good time, but I’m almost always have a really bad time. And I won’t tell anyone that because it’ll ruin their good time. I’m rambling at this point, I’m sorry that this one doesn’t make much sense.

[fivefortythreeam]

12:21 pm, December 26th, 2015. None of this really matters. I think everything through and write it down, I proofread it to see if it sounds right, and it doesn't matter. Nothing I say matters, and nothing I do will matter either. So why bother, honestly. What's the point in trying to understand your life when it might never make any sense.

[fivefortythreeam]

12:13 pm, December 26th, 2015. I find myself always wishing or thinking that my life is one big movie, and every time I cry, or sit in numbness, or pain, it's just a still from the movie. And people watching the movie will feel sad, watching the lowest points of my life, and sympathize with me while soft music plays over the image. So every time something terrible happens, I think about how the viewers will love it. But there are no viewers, and this isn't a movie, and I'm just stuck without knowing if anything will turn out okay.

[fivefortythreeam]

1:44 am, December 26th, 2015. A letter written to my ex to let him know that I still love him. Colton, I've written this to you in my head a hundred times, and it never sounds exactly the way I want it to. But I'm gonna go for it anyways. And I was going to actually write it down as a letter and give it to you when we got back from school, but I can't wait that long. And you probably have that feeling where you know something bad is about to happen, but I had it while writing this, and will probably have it when I send this to you, so it's only fair that you have the feeling now too. Except I hope this isn't something bad to you. And to me. But mainly to you. I know that I'm stalling but I don't wanna say this because I have literally no idea how you'll react. I mean, I have an idea of how you'll react but I hope that's not what actually happens. Alright. I've been thinking a lot about you lately. A lot about you, and why I was so stupid this summer. I don't know why I thought that just ending things, and not even trying to fix them, was a good idea. I guess I just thought that's what you wanted, and I think it was what you wanted. But now I just keep thinking about how happy I was with you, how happy you make me, and how my life was so much better with you in it. And how I'm so dumb for just letting you go, and thinking that it'd just be a break. And for taking you for granted. You're incredible, Colton. And I feel like I didn't tell you that enough, and didn't tell you how blessed I was to be with you. I'm thinking about actually sending this to you at some point and I feel sick because I know that you really shouldn't even give me the time of day because of how terrible I was. I was an awful, awful person last year, and I have absolutely no excuse for being so horrible. I don't know why I thought what I did was okay, or why I wanted to do it. I've realized how stupid I was, and how I didn't like who I was. I pray about it every day, and I pray that I'll never go back to being that person. And I've changed, and I feel like a different person. You have no reason to believe me, or trust me on this, and the only way I can show you that I'm a better person now is through my actions. Basically what I'm trying to get at is that I still love you. I know that I told you a part of me always will, but I didn't know so much of me would. This whole thing is so cheesy and stupid, but I can't stop thinking about it. I'm so mad at myself for ruining everything between us. But I think about you and, I really can't explain what I feel other than I feel like you're my person. And I feel sick to my stomach knowing that I somehow left you/let you go. And I feel so so terrible about telling you this because I have awful timing what with Kendra & Morgen & freshmen girls and all that crap, and I know you didn't want anyone else to tell you that they liked you but, hi, here I am, and I'm sorry but I'm also not sorry. I don't want telling you this to ruin the little bit of friendship we have right now, so just tell me that I'm an idiot and to go away if I have ruined it. Because I know that this is so stupid, but you know that I'm not very logical. I'm letting you know because a) I feel like I'm gonna bust if I don't and b) I wanna know if you'd even consider giving me another chance. If not, just let me know. I just want you to do what you think is best and what makes you happy. I miss you so much, & I just want you to know that the door is still open. gabi

[fivefortythreeam]

1:24 am, December 26th, 2015. I don't like who I am. I don't like how dizzy I get from my medication, I don't like how I never enjoy anything, and I don't like that I don't get suicidal, just panicky. I don't like how I can't sleep at night, I don't like how I look, and I don't like how easily my feelings change for people. I don't like how cloudy my thoughts feel, I don't like how opinionated I am, and I don't like how careless I am. I don't like how sad I am for no reason, I don't like how I yell at my mom, and I don't like how I want people to feel bad for me. I don't like how I can't end this with a statement starting with "I like...".

[fivefortythreeam]

1:47 am, Christmas Eve, 2015. I wish I could forget what being in love with you felt like. As long as I remember, I won't be able to figure out how to let you go.

[fivefortythreeam]

8:42 pm, September 26th, 2015. During a period of disassociation. I'm mentally detached. I feel as if I'm just in some body and I don't know the people around me, and I'm trapped. I feel like I'm this separate being altogether. I'm sitting in the back of her car and I'm trying to not cry. Her father mocked me and put me on the verge of a panic attack. I do not want to go to this bonfire. I feel like my brain is seeping out my ears and my eyes and my nose. I'm expanding in a way that my mind and body cannot contain. I don't know the people around me or the skin I'm in.

[fivefortythreeam]

sometime in October, 2015. I've decided that maybe writing haikus about what you do to me will make it beautiful. the sad news is that no matter how I phrase it my thoughts aren't pretty They are destructive They're a false hope in the nights Where you won't call me Maybe it's because The thought that you wouldn't hurt Gave you the power to All of this is vague That's why I don't like haikus They aren't the real truth They hide my breakdowns To people I hardly know Behind their phone screens They make it so that Anyone reading these thoughts Can relate to them But they don't know him Or his sweet smile in the dark The way I know it I cannot stand this This isn't how it should sound All short and sweet-like My pain is not short My pain is ninety nine days And we're still counting

[fivefortythreeam]

11:55 pm, October 19th, 2015. I can't write haikus about the way you make me feel. Haikus are short and vague so that anyone reading them can somehow relate, and that goes against everything we stand for. You understand me more than anyone else ever has, and that's why it's so hard to let go of you. Because even if you aren't acting like it, you can comprehend almost anything I'm saying and everything I'm feeling. But the miles between us and the effort that doesn't exist on your end is making it really difficult to believe in you. I believe in the you that's selfless and knows no boundaries. But you're so trapped by your addictions, and you won't let anyone get close to you even though your whole life is a cry for help. You won't let me in anymore. You wanted to commit to me but now you can't even commit to a conversation. I'm just left here floating through clouds above the oceans thinking about how you are sinking down below me. Just let me help you.