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grief

the reoccurring theme in my life; grief. I didn't know what this was until sincerely middle school, and I didn't explore it until adulthood, but my whole life has been a long episode of reoccurring grief.

Displayed as a child through emotional dysregulation, anger, lashing out, crying, not listening, not communicating to my elders, doing whatever I wanted. Then as a teenager through rebellion and secrecy, hidden behind the mask of a perfect child.

I'm not sure what did it. But I remember feeling like I needed to hide my grief. I felt shame about my grief and I don't know why. Maybe because I didn't want to feel different - that's exactly it. I had an idea in my head that society had no problems -- but at the same time "people have bigger problems than you" or "you never know what someone is going through" echoed through my head, making me believe the things that made me sad didn't matter.

#diary

i'm a wreck

#diary

Dear Eva,

He's already told you he doesn't want a relationship. He's too busy for you. He has other things to focus on. He is independent by nature.

"not right now at least"

what does that even mean

I tried to move on. I'm trying. I planned a date and cried about it, went on the date and he took me to a stupid place we've been to together. And then I cried driving home thinking about you. Why is it like this.

I want to tell you and talk to you, but you won't care.

#diary

Dear you,

That was child's love. I was looking for something I didn't have, but wanted so deeply. We were kids, you definitely couldn't give to me what I really wanted and needed.

In hind sight, I used you to fuel something extremely unhealthy inside of me.

#j

the memories come and go but they come in extremely vivid waves

hi old friend

Kill the part of you that believes it can’t survive without someone else.

Sade Andria Zabala, War Songs (via wordsnquotes)

thursday

*wakes up from a nap angry and not knowing what day it is*

tylerknott

Remember the months when our fingers were lonely, our hands were empty?

Daily Haiku on Love by Tyler Knott Gregson (via tylerknott)

I talk to my mom once a week. Maybe. And it's either her nagging or yelling at me. I don't know.

#diary

I wish I didn't have such a shitty childhood. Or at least I wish I didn't remember such a shitty childhood. I wish my brothers weren't such shitty brothers. Up until middle school I had to deal with their fucking abuse. I never had someone to tell it to. I thought it was normal.

#diary