What’s Wrong With Me?
Something is wrong.
For the past couple of weeks, all I feel is negativity. I hate being a negative person; I’ve spent far too much of my short life pondering on the bad, to waste any more time on it now. I want to be happy, I should be happy… But I am not.
Everyone around me seems to be a source of displeasure, acrimony and agitation. Even when I finally thought I had found the friend I could confide in during these rare moments of emotional catastrophe; all I want to do is tell her to “fuck off”. I see her name on MSN, or I see her around school, and I fill up with dread.
I thought it might have been due to her own “problems” she had, and her constant dribble about them to me. It was depressing to say the least. To be bombarded with so-called problems, or issues which she herself created, and brought down from temporary moments of happiness, it was frustrating. To hear “I am really sad or hurting right now”, when I’ve just had to endure the far more problematic issues of my Mother and finances, it made me angry. Yet, because she was feeling “down”, I didn’t dare put my problems on to her.
It would appear however, that this recent lapse in social skills, and emotional intelligence has transpired itself to a far greater scale. Everyone is the source of something negative, everyone is person I want to avoid. I have no desire to communicate with anyone, to be spoken to, to be seen, or anything. I want nothing more than to go on walks listening to Mozart, or finding something to read and hermiting myself away on a comfy sofa, in a quiet and unvisited room.
I suppose it doesn’t help either, when my sleep is disrupted too. I’m finding it nigh on impossible to get to my “sleepy place”. Y’know what I am on about, like a scene or scenario that no-matter what, you can place yourself, and whoever else you like there, feel happy and relaxed, and drift of to sleep. My place is impossible to reach, and if I am there, then bad things follow me. My mind is obviously in turmoil, and I don’t know what to do about it.
All in all, it’s producing a worse-off version of myself every single day. I feel distant, troubled and space-out. I feel emotional, but dead at the same time. I feel angry, but passive.
I’m fed up of it all. I’m fed up of having to constantly accept dormant apologies. I’m fed up of having to hear other people’s problems, whilst struggling with my own. I’m fed of only having one parent. I’m fed up of waking up in the morning and knowing that beyond my morning dance around my room, nothing else will make me happy during the day. I’m fed up of not telling people the truth when they should hear it. I’m fed up of being put to blame for every single thing that goes wrong. I’m fed up of being the “dependable one”, of being the daughter of the most dependent person one would ever have the misfortune to meet. I’m fed up of dreaming about the possibilities of meeting my other parent, and what life would be like if I knew him. I’m fed up of the memories, of being the unwanted step-daughter. I’m fed up of Christmas; I’m not a Christian, I don’t want meaningless presents, I don’t want Turkey, I don’t want to pretend to be around family who don’t really like each other. I’m fed up of being set-up by the girl who I want to be with. I’m fed-up of being made to feel guilty whenever I feel either all, some or more of these things, and being in this mood.
I even feel obliged now to apologise for this moan.
x
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Tags: Christmas, Depressed, Family, Friends, Guilt, Life, Problems, Sad, School
I Fear I’ll Turn Into Her
My Mother. Over eighteen years ago, she conceived and gave birth to me (and oh, doesn’t she remind me of that). She’s brought me up, clothed me (for sixteen years – past two years it’s been down to me), fed me (for the most part – but it depends if she’s spent all of her money), and well… Tried to be there.
The truth is, I don’t think she has ever really been there. Her alcoholism is destructive, and it has been since I was about six/seven. I didn’t know it then, but her alcoholism and depression resulted in her cutting. I’ve never told anyone that before.
I found out that nugget of disturbing information about four years ago – also when she was drunk. I’ve never properly reacted to it, but since she made me aware of it, and she made me aware she had scars on her arm, I now cannot help but notice them all the time. In the summer, you see them a lot more. Her dark tan makes the white dead tissue stand out, like trophies in a cabinet.
She told me, it was her drinking and depression that led to that. It was a bad time, she had just divorced my step-father, had several miscarriages, no money and two young kids to look after – all at the age of twenty-five. It’s not an excuse, but it’s a perspective.
That was the mid-nineties. It’s now nearly the end of the noughties and where are we?
Well, she still drinks, and she’s still depressed; and I’m shit scared that one day she’ll go back to cutting again.
Even so, she doesn’t need a blade to stab away at herself or other people, me, to hurt. Oh no, her tongue, her vicious temper, and putrid venom are more than enough to tear herself and other apart.
Her drinking is vile. I hate it, I’ve always hated it. The family hates it, even she Ma Mere, hates it. So why then, has it turned into some form of a joke? Why is it acceptable for a person, a mother, to be allowed to destroy herself, hurt those closest to her, and to waste the little money she has on something which I know will ultimately end up killing her.
Her Doctors, they always ask her, she always lies. When I go with her (which is often), they look at me, and I know that they know, and they can see the same in my eyes.
I’ve tried everything I can think of to get her to stop. Occasionally it’ll work, may be for a week or two; and then the long drunken nights resume. It used to be worse when she would wake up to see me off to school, still drunk, stumbling and swaying around the kitchen, smelling like piss-puddle, slurred speech, and nothing but “You don’t know what it’s like to be me… No money etc etc” – those would be unbearable. I would still have to walk into school and pretend that everything was fine, smile and continue on with the day, but dreading my return. Would she remember what she said?
It was this that put me off drinking. When all of my friends were getting drunk when we were sixteen/seventeen – I would be sober. I couldn’t stand to think of myself to become what she is. I would fear that I would fall into this trap of drinking – my grand mother also spends a large proportion of her time drunk too, and so did her mother etc. I didn’t want to “catch” her alcoholism; I didn’t want to bring myself anywhere near her level.
It took me a long time to realise that I can still drink, have fun, relax and have fun, without turning into her. I was scared that if drunk, I would behave as she does, I would spit words of hatred and disgust, I would hurt everyone around me. I would hurt myself. It scared me.
Then, I got to the point where I had to let myself go. She can’t control me forever, right?
It worked for a few months, but now, after the way I saw her behave, I don’t know anymore. It’s an easy cycle to fall into, and I don’t want to become a victim. I’ve already spent far too much of my life playing that role, hurting, crawling in my own self-pity, wallowing in hatred and anger. I don’t want to return to it. I don’t want there to be an excuse for it.
I tend to see so much of herself in me. We’re two very similar people, both quite reclusive, and stubborn. We keep most things to ourselves, and although we don’t like to admit it, we both put on a false front – everyone must always think we are stronger and better than what we are. We’ll never admit to our insecurities, and we both love power – power makes up for everything else.
It’s a horrible path that I am on, and one that I fear will guide me in the worst possible direction.
I refuse to live in constant fear of myself, but I feel that this is already manifesting. What do I do to stop it?
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Tags: Life, Teen, Personal, Alcoholism, Alcohol, Alcoholic, Mother, Parent, Self Harm, Cutting
It’s this:
When I joined Facebook back in 2006, I filled out the normal sign-up form, and profile questions. I got to the question that asks you to state what gender one is interested in. Three years ago, I was still hesitant, I was still in a cloud of denial, and questioning. I knew what I wanted to answer, but I didn’t know whether I should or not.
I promised myself that after I came out to pretty much everyone now, that I would finally fill in that little section on my profile. “Why do I need to hide, or deny who interests me?” I thought, but every time I came to hover over “Save changes” after ticking the “women” box under “Edit profile”, I couldn’t do it. I clicked the home-page and resumed Status reading.
This week, after three years of denial, of false attempts, after struggling, questioning, denying, lying, and pretending, I’ve achieved the one thing that used to scare me the most.
I’ve told everyone I love women, and it feels amazing!
x
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Tags: 2006, 2009, Coming Out, Denial, Facebook, Female, Girl, Lesbian, Life, Sexuality
Feeling Inferior
Inferiority; knowing you’re not as good, useless, hopeless, and the one who has to pretend that it’s okay. It’s such a horrible feeling, isn’t it?
This feeling of inferiority struck me on Friday night. It had been arranged that some of my friends and I would attend a “Rave” in London. To be honest, I wasn’t looking forward to it. Don’t get me wrong, I love my friends, but there are some situations I don’t find myself comfortable around them. The idea of being around them, whilst they are drunk and care-free, and I, sensible and sober, it wasn’t one I was holding too high on my agenda.
I had to make the best out of a bad situation… I had already paid for my ticket. There was no backing out now.
I stepped into the club, and instantly felt that it was going to be a night that I wouldn’t want to remember. There was no atmosphere, the music (to put it bluntly), was verging only slightly better than dismal, and the people… Rarely do I ever feel so out-of-place.
Everyone was so young! Granted, it was a 16+ event (I would much rather go out to a proper club night, but none of my friends are of age yet). Okay, it’s only a two-year difference, but still. There’s such a difference, and one I cannot stand to be stuck in.
That wasn’t the worst bit though. The worst thing about the people, was that it was 99% heterosexuals. Never, have I felt so insecure around a collection of straight people. I’m not a particularly “up-front” person as it is, but simply just trying to “find” someone when you’re stuck in “Straight-land”, is utterly horrible. It’s near impossible to tell who is and who isn’t gay as it is; but when pretty much every single other girl (other than myself) seems to be getting off with a boy (they’re sixteen, they still are only boys), it’s unnerving.
That’s not to say I don’t like heterosexuals, but it’s an odd place to find yourself in. All the boys know that they can go and snog, or grope pretty much all of the girls there, and all the girls know they can do pretty much the same with boys, and I’m just there thinking “When is it going to be my turn?!?!” – that’s unnerving.
What I think really made a bad night worse, was having a friend (who is bisexual), playing the “Number Game”.
Yeah, I didn’t know what it was until Friday either. A game whereby a group of friends try and snog as many people as possible on the night.
No, I didn’t join in.
But… I did have to hear a running commentary on how many people my bisexual friend had snogged. Sometimes I was even taken as a witness – the last thing I really want to see is her and her tongue shoved down a spotty-faced adolescent boy.
It gets better though, once she had found a girl, right in the middle of one of my favourite songs, she took hold of me, stopped me dancing, and shouted in my ear that she had got with a girl.
FUCK YOU! (Is what I thought)
Apart from the fact that I don’t care about her crappy game, more importantly, I don’t need it shouted in my ear that once again she’s managed to “pull” or whatever, and I haven’t. Seriously, why does she think I need more reminding about how shit and desolate my love life is, without her making it worse.
In all, I think there was about fifteen-hundred people there that night, and I have never felt so lonely in my life.
I literally spent seven hours, dancing, or at least trying to dance to the crap that was being pumped out of the speakers, hoping that no-one would ask me if I was enjoying myself… For I feared that the reaction would spark some sort of emotional break-down.
The only person there who bothered speaking to me (beyond my group of friends), was the gay man behind the bar. Maybe he sensed how lost I must’ve felt in such a bizarre environment.
It wouldn’t have been so bad if I had been able to take myself out-side, sit and ponder to myself for a bit. Away from the people, away from the crap music, away from her. But I couldn’t, once you went outside, it was a no return policy. And seeing as I was stuck in the middle of London, at half three in the morning, with no knowledge on how to get home, it was a dead-end situation.
So now I make a promise to myself:
“I shall never go out to one of those stupid raves, I will only go to proper nightclubs (and if possible gay clubs), and in the event of “her” informing me of crap whilst I’m trying to make the best out of terrible situation, that I have no need, or desire to know, she’ll be told to fuck off imminently.”
My life honestly has to get better than this!
x
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Tags: Lesbian, Friends, Heterosexual, People, Rave, Night Club, Bisexual, Music, Clubbing, Raving, LondonGirl, Inferior
I Feel Nervous.
Tomorrow I’m going to see that woman I’ve loved for years. Big deal, I see her most days… Yet for some reason, I actually feel nervous.
It’s a weird, and strange feeling. I mean, I’m not too much of a nervous person – awkward, yes – but I like to think of myself as fairly composed. I speak to her often, and I’m around her often; but the fact I feel nervous, is making me feel even more unnerved.
I think it might be because I fear that she might find out about my love for her. I fear that she can read me, or someone else might make a comment – and that will really leave me in the shit. I cannot honestly imagine anything more embarrassing, or horrible than her knowing – which I know sounds completely weird… But it would be so terribly awkward.
There are just somethings that you don’t want another person to know about – and this has to be one of them.
I’m hoping I have nothing to be nervous about, but the possibility of something going against my favour is greater than I dare to think about. And if other people can randomly pick up that I have a thing for her, or as one girl put it “You’re in love with her”, then surely she must’ve picked up the same vibe too.
Not that I want to sound perverted either, but I hope she hasn’t ever caught me staring at her. I don’t believe she has, but God, she would think I am some sex-craved weirdo.
I think I am just going to try and hope for the best. If it does go all tits-up, then I’ll have to think of a plan. But yes, positivity is the key (as I like to say), and so yes, tomorrow WILL BE FINE!
Hopefully.
x
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Tags: Lesbian, Love
What To Do?
I’m stuck.
See, in a world of endless opportunities, it would appear that very few, if any, ever come my way. All around me are people, who literally see the world as their oyster; yet I’m here, patiently waiting for my turn.
It’s not right.
It’s been a bother for some time now; and a bother which the darkening, and freezing days of the approaching winter, make me realise even more than ever how bloody awful it is to have no one to call my own. It’s the worst feeling in the world, and yet it’s made worse when I am surrounded by people who are either happy and loved up, or could be the possible relief to my endless stretch of single-life.
There are two people who are particularly painful.
The first, well… She’s my first true “love”. Okay, she may not be aware of it, but she is. If anything, she was the true “eye-opener”, the one who called me to question all I had previously thought, and hidden about myself. The one who made me feel things for a person in the way that I never thought possible. She symbolises everything I aim to have in my life; and she’s the source of not only a lot of knowledge, but passion. She’s the drive, the fuel to my engine. To think of a world where I did not meet this woman, or a world where she would no longer exists, actually causes me pain.
It’s quite ridiculous how long I have pined for this woman. In fact, I would even go so far to admit to myself, that it is rather quite sad. But no one else I know, or I have ever known has had the same effect as she does to me. When I see her, my heart literally sinks; I feel like I am melting, and even in my darkest, gloomiest, hormone-driven moods of disgust and loathing, there has never been in a time in nearly three and a half years, where her presence or view instantly wipes my mind clear.
But, she’s way out of my reach… And I’m not even too sure if she’s gay (or at least bisexual). The hope (if there is any), is extremely limited; and the rest I’m afraid only exists in my imagination, and sub-conscious.
Then, there’s the second. Now this person, she’s more of a tease. For over a year now, she’s teased; and she bloody well loves it. I can definitely tell you she’s gay… She also has a girlfriend. See the problem there?
I wouldn’t mind either, if she didn’t stop with the teasing. If she didn’t just stare down my top, or do those slight “brushes” with her hand, when-ever she thinks no-one can see. Or when she’s drunk (this is always the best bits), when she throws herself upon me.
Of course though, I am the sensible, sober one. No matter how many times she throws herself at me, I’m always battling my conscience – “You can’t, you can’t think of her girl-friend” (who also happens to be one of my friends.
I don’t want to sound like a total bitch, but I can’t help it. I want her… Even if sometimes that means hurting my friend. It’s horrible!
What’s even worse, is thinking “Oh yeah, her girlfriend is not coming out with us tonight – more fun for me!” – it scares me!
But what can one do? It’s an impossible situation; I’m single, and craving someone else, and she’s there tempting me delicious offers. I could just keep saying “No”, but we both know that I am always saying it with half-meaning; we both know that what I really want to say is “Oh, yes!”, we both know it. More often than not, my lack of physical action, demonstrates it. It’s a battle of the mind over the body.
Even-so, it’s pitiful. I mean, I don’t ask for much… Just someone who I could snuggle up to at night; go out with for a quiet meal, or trip out somewhere. Someone who I could cook for, and plan my weekends around. Someone who I know that if I text them at two in the morning, they’ll text back, and there will always be kisses at the end. Someone who I can call my own. Someone who can make me smile, and give me enough reason to wake up every-morning, despite the dark and the cold.
Is that so much to ask for?
Something has got to change.
x
Filed under: Friends, Life, Love, Sexuality | 2 Comments
Tags: Lesbian, Life, Lonliness, Love
Liquid Heart
Have you ever come across a person in your life where they literally melt your heart? Where at just the briefest glimpse of their hand, hair, arm or face, sends a tide of shivers down your body? When emotions erupt, and the dormant feelings of lust, love and desire develop into a cascade of passion and emotion beyond measure?
I have.
I say this, yet only about two and half years ago I was a complete skeptic at the even existence of “love”. I mean, how can we – human beings, with brains and intelligence – become to benign and hapless, purely due to a single emotion?
I realise now that I was horribly wrong. And in fact, imagining a world without love, is a pretty depressing image. None of that excitement, lust, passion, desire, or even confusion. Let’s not forget the pain either, pain is part and parcel of love, and world without the feeling of pain, due to loss, or heartbreak, is not a world I want to live in.
I speak of this now, because recently I saw someone who I haven’t seen for about six weeks now. She, has to be my first real love. Of course (or at least I hope) she doesn’t know, for that would turn out to be highly embarrassing. She was the eye-opener, the one who made me realise that before, all of those other women or girls who I had looked at, or known and felt something towards, that it wasn’t just closeness to people, or whatever else you can confuse a crush with, but something real. I looked at her, and I realised that I wasn’t just admiring her, or getting confused about; I was looking at someone who I wanted to hug, touch, dream about and cuddle at night. Never before in my entire life had I looked upon a person I knew, or didn’t know and think “I would like to hold you”, or “I want to cuddle you at night”, or “It doesn’t matter, I’m here for you”. I saw for the first time, that it wasn’t just fascination in females, but a desire to be with them… A desire to be with her.
Back to the story. Well, I hadn’t seen her for six weeks; and during that time, she had done her usual routine within my head, popping in and out, causing disturbance to me, making me wish I could be with her, keeping me awake in the middle of the night; but as I had learnt from other long departures from her presence, I had to void myself of all of the emotional strings I have. They can become far too heavy to carry, and to withstand. I learnt that last Christmas where I became an introverted hermit for the two weeks, whilst I was trying to console my wounded heart.
Yet, the other day I saw her; and all of those repressed emotions, all of that energy and hunger I have for her has resurfaced – and God do I feel alive!
It’s crazy! It’s half two in the morning, yet I feel so energised and empowered. My mind is constantly flashing images or things about her. Or even worse, creating imaginary conversations that I wish we could share.
My heart actually feels like it has dissisipated into a feather-tonne. It feels soft and warming to my body, yet is a burden to me. I may be happy, but mostly, I am incomplete. Seeing her again was just a painful reminder of much she is the missing piece to my human jigsaw. Everything about her perfect. Her imperfections only make her better.
I need to stop wallowing don’t I?
I see the next few weeks and months as being a test to this. Not that there can anything be achieved, but I can live in hope right?
… Well I think I will regardless! We all need some hope in our lives.
x
Filed under: Life, Love, Sexuality | 2 Comments
Tags: Lesbian, Life, Love, Lust, Romance, Women
Destined To Never Be Happy!
It’s a rule of mine (for both this and other blogs I have), to never write something on the heat-of-the-moment. Hindsight, and a calmed, relaxed mind have far more to offer, and far more rationale than my present slightly hyped-up, pissed-off state.
See in life, as much as I hate to recognise or even admit it, I’m one of those people who others naturally assume will have to give-in. Yes, I can be a loud-mouth, and I don’t think it’s a particularly good idea to get on the wrong side of me, but in general, there is the consensus that “it doesn’t matter what she thinks or wants, we’re going to get our own way”.
And y’know everything is like this. From my mother to my friends, even to some teachers, they all assume this of me. Maybe I give out the wrong signals, I don’t know. But I hate it! I hate being the push-around, the person in the background, and the person last consulted or asked about anything.
Take for example my friends. They’re a lovely bunch, honestly they are. Some of the best people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing and being around… However, take a few new additions into our “friend group”, and things have all suddenly changed.
I’ve been swept under the carpet.
Rarely am I told about plans, and if I am, it’s always at the last minute. Or even better, as it was last week, not even asked out! That has to be the most niggling thing. Last week, AS results day, and I didn’t even know until about twenty-four hours previously, but one person in the group had for the past week organised with the seven other people in the group to go out to a club Results Day night. Was I invited? No. But were people she doesn’t even like invited? Yes!
I mean, I don’t even know where I stand with my group of friends anymore. Do they even want me around?
And then comes the “giving in” part. See, I’m pretty much always the one who has to concede. Yes, I’m horribly stubborn, but why is it me? I always have to give in, always, always, always! And if I dare argue or speak out against it, I’m “causing a problem”, or “making a fuss”, or something. No one else would put up with it. In fact, no one else what would put up with half of the things I have to… But it would appear it’s fine, it’s only me.
I’ve had enough. It’s gotten to the point where I have spent ten consecutive nights in during this Summer Holiday, because I no longer feel part of the group. Whenever I am out, I wish to be at home. I can’t stand being around a group of people who sit around, get drunk or high, and to be honest, continually take the piss out of me.
I don’t feel respected. And if I dare retaliate, or lightly take the piss out of someone else, the emotional barriers come tumbling down, or I’m “not being fair”, or “taking it too far”. It would appear they can’t handle the taste of their own medicine.
The worst part is, is that it’s been ten or so days since we’ve all been out together, and tomorrow we’re off on a trip. It’s been planned for the best part of a week; and to be honest, the only thing I have been somewhat looking forward to. However, I’m sitting here, thinking about having to endure being around them, and I just think “I want to stay home”. I don’t though. I want to go out. We’re going to one of my favourite places, but my mind is yelling at me.
I fear I am going to end up in a horrible argument. I can see it happening, and I can see me getting terribly angry (something I hate doing), and then just cocking everything up. Yet at the same time, I can’t leave this without anything being said. I’m annoyed, and as much as I told myself I wouldn’t be, I’m upset. I’m upset at not being asked out to the Club, I’m upset at being pretty much ignored for an entire week, and I’m upset that even the one thing I have been looking for, has been tarnished by their lack of any care or thought for me.
I sound horrendously self-centered, but am I wrong to believe that for once in a while, it would be nice to have something go your own way?
x
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Tags: Anger, Argument, AS, Friends, Girl, Happy, Holiday, Life, London, Lonely, Over, Problems, Push, Results, Sad, summer
First Date?
I feel bad.
Yesterday, apparently, I went on my first date. Me, being the loveless being that I am wasn’t even aware that two people spending the day together, was considered a date, was quite horrified at this. I didn’t want a date, well, at least not with who I spent the day with.
Not, I don’t want that to sound horrible, but you know, she’s not my type. In my inexperienced eyes, I merely assumed that us meeting up together was just both of us trying to avoid the day being bored. We’ve both not done much this week, and both wanted to get out and do something… But I didn’t realise what I had let myself in for.
I don’t know what to do. We ended our day (which was alright, but it was certainly lacking in any depth of conversation, and spark), with her telling me she “likes me”, and that we “should meet up again”. How do I let on gently that this isn’t what I want? That actually, I was dumb enough to assume that our day our was little more than both of us trying to satisfy our minds out of a constant state of intense summer boredom?
What the hell do I do?
I feel bad. I feel like maybe I’ve wrongly put someones hopes up, and I know I didn’t respond particularly well to being told that she liked me.
It’s times like these how I wonder how people even manage manage to go on numerous “dates”.
x
Filed under: Life, Love | Leave a Comment
Tags: 17, Anonymous, Blog, Date, Female, Gay, Girl, Heart, Lesbian, LGBT, Love, Seveenteen, Teen
Intrinsic
Life. It’s a fascinating thing, isn’t it?
You see, one can be as bold or as temperate as they wish in life. No matter what is thrown at them, they will take in the stride they have become. For the bold, it will be full of vigour, and lavish openness; for the temperate, it will be with scarcity, doubt, and aging hope.
I’ve never known where I stand in this spectrum of things. Yes, I’m aware of my moments at both ends of the scale, but for the whole, where exactly do I stand?
I won’t deny it, and I don’t pretend to; sometimes attention is amazing. It’s what I seek, what I want, what I drive for in my engine of a mind. I think the same applies to the majority of people. We all need attention every now and then; even if it’s not constant, but on the occasion where we do want it, we lavish in its expense. We ponder over our own achievements, greatness and dare I say, the failures of others around us.
We’re all selfish really.
But, for the majority of the time, I so often find myself withering away at the opposite end; the timid, temperate sort.
The fault with me, is my caution. Yes, it’s never good to live too care-free, completely at a loss of caution, or consequence; but to live within the constant boundaries of caution? To see ones life to be so heavily restrained and guarded by nothing more than my own mind? That’s a useless and pointless way to live… But I do!
Knowing what I want (or more precisely who I want), is a realisation which comes with so many problems for this aspect of my personal self. My heart and mind are at a constant war, where heart seeks for peace, and non-violent protest, my mind marches on with it’s nuclear weapons of self-destruction and bondage.
I don’t want to be at war with myself. I want my mind and heart to co-ordinate each other, towards the people who I want, the people I love, the woman I love. Is that too much to ask for?
I don’t want to be selfish, but at the same time, I want to live free from the self-made restrain jacket, which I’m too tightly bound by, to release myself from. I want to be on even par with either side of the scale.
But… Where do I start?
I know where I want to start, but automatically it puts be too far on the edge; an extreme opposite to where I generally find myself sitting. I need an easier task, I need to gradually break my shell; wear my new shoes of freedom with care and love, in order not to scuff up the rest of my life.
How does one openly admit a love they have been denying, hiding and protecting for over three years? How does one suddenly say “Mind, yes you! Stop ruining the one thing I truly know that I have ever wanted; let my heart win for once, you pathetic swine!”?
Intrinsic matters call for intrinsic answers.
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