THOSE WHO SUFFER LOVE
Holy fuck.
I just read through my whole old diary. Funnyteapot. (Don't ask)
My OLD old diary. From the very beginning of the year.
That's a scary thing right there.
Change kind of hit me pretty fast and reading that took me right back to everything that happened.
I was so....I don't know.
Lost.
That seems like an overdramatic phrase.
But it was true.
I needed something bad. I needed something to base my life around. I needed to learn about a lot of things.
It's like a lot of things that should have taken me a long time to figure out just...Appeared.
I don't really know what provoked it.
I found what I love. And I realized a lot about myself through it. It showed me a lot about the world that I wouldn't have ever seen.
And, as also overdramatic and hideously reflective that sounds, it's true.
It took something unfamiliar to let me see what was right in front of me.
I was a mess. I still feel like a mess, really. But a mess who's got all these amazing people all around her to show her exactly who she is.
I always said that I could never say what I felt. That nothing I said ever came out the way it was supposed to.
It's all I don't say that says what I mean.
In my first diary- I was so lost. I was avoiding all I wanted and I had these incredibly mixed emotions about a lot of people.
Now, I wouldn't feel that way. I know better now.
God, doesn't it seem like I'm just pointing out the obvious. Don't I sould like a Hallmark card?
Even at the beginning of this. I went through my 'Pissed at the Whole Fucking World' phase.
And kind of just got it all out of my system. I stopped needing to prove myself to people.
You read those entries. Every time I said how I wasn't this or wasn't that, I just wanted to seem cooler.
And now...
Well. Now I'm just trying to combine what I was, and what I am, and what I'll never be.
When that happens...I'll let you know.
Who knows. And the rate I went this year, that could happen tomorrow. Or in five years.
I just have to stop guessing.
I'm sorry to bore you.
It's just scary to see yoruself so easily laid out in front of you in approximately four hundred different diary entires.
Weird.