Trying to Live the Life I Want to Live

Sorta Okay.

So an… incident, yeah let’s call it that, occurred today that I REALLY want to spill all over the internet. I won’t though because I can be the better person in this. I mean, how hard can it be? I already am the better person…

Now I just have to keep telling myself that until I don’t feel like I’m lying.

Sometimes I just don’t get why people do the things that they do. That’s okay though, I mean, I already know that I probably never will. And that’s okay, because really? Why would I want to understand someone who would say something like that about someone else un-antagonized and without the decency of doing it to my face.

…yeah. 

My mom and sister have been really awesome about it for me though. so, at least not all family has to be a bomb. :)

Exception to the rule.

I didn’t have allergies until I was in 8th grade. I remember this vividly because the first year I got them, in spring of 8th grade, they hit and they hit hard. My parents were actually worried about what I was sick with to the extent that I could not go on the civics field trip to Philadelphia. No, instead of seeing the Liberty Bell and eating philly cheesesteak, I was at home using what felt like a tissue box per hour.

For awhile the doctor had me trying different medicines, trying to find a combination that would give me relief from my severe symptoms. We found one and everything seemed to go relatively well.

Or so I thought.

Apparently I had not even noticed the effect the medicine was having on me. I would get up, take a pill before heading to school and when I came home I would go into my room and take a nap. That nap would last until dinner time and then I would go eat, maybe do some homework, shower, and go back to sleep.

I was not a person to take naps, so this springtime habit was not natural and I was so affected by the medicine I was taking, that I didn’t even realize that it made me drowsy and pass out as soon as I got home from school. (My dad informed me of the habit after years of taking the medicine.)

The last time (the first time this year) I took the medicine was a week ago. And I felt like sleeping the entire time despite having gotten a solid night’s sleep. Thus began my quest to find a non-drowsy allergy medicine I could take.

This is what I found.

The medicine I was taking has only a 10% chance of causing drowsiness and it is not as severe in effect as other non-drowsy allergy medications.

I am the 10%.

Joy.

So my sleep filled days will continue, until I grow old and my allergies leave me once more.

Writer’s block?

Do you ever have an idea? Say for a story. And you can feel it inside you, eating you up, even when you aren’t sure what the story is. And you try to put pen to paper, to bring the words that are burning you to life, but you can’t. And it settles in and you can feel it constantly and all of the emotions of the story, every little thing that will effect your characters and the world they live in just weigh on your mind and heart.

This story’s been eating at me for a couple of days now. And I really hope that it either lets itself be written soon or else goes away, because I am so incredibly sad. It hurts so much, and I have no idea why, and my hands are practically itching to write down a story but nothing will come.

I don’t need to have ever been in a relationship to have lost someone, I’m pretty sure this is what it feels like.

Waffle.

back and forth, back and forth. Writing or acting? I’ll probably end up with writing, I’ll probably work for a couple of years and try to get published at the same time, and then hopefully before I get too old I’ll be able to switch over and live solely off of writing. If/when that happens I’m going to dye my hair a lot because I never got the chance to before and I can’t now that I’m graduating college.

Carve Another Tally on the Inside of my Soul

There are a lot of things that life throws at us. I think people are the most deadly. People are the ones that we let in close, knowing that they can hurt us, and yet we trust and care and love them regardless. 

I always liked the phrase “kill me with kindness”, I don’t anymore, I didn’t realise it didn’t mean you didn’t actually die, it just feels like you are. I think the worst thing about it, is that it’s impossible to sever the tie you forged with the person. You keep loving them, and perhaps you always will, but I wonder if you will remember as well, years down the road, how it felt to be killed with kindness. How much it hurt, and how it hurt just as much to smile and accept what was happening, and try to move on.

People change, I didn’t used to understand that, I’ve gotten better at accepting it. It’s really hard though. To accept changes, in people, in relationships, and to move on with a smile. 

Loving a person seems to simultaneously make it so much easier and so much harder. 

I opened myself up, did it willingly, handed away the knife and pointed out all the places to strike that would hurt most. And somehow without using the knife, without targeting any of the places and ways I pointed out, I still feel like I took a blow, even though I was offered nothing but kindness.

I hope to one day, not just love someone, but to fall in love with someone. At the same time, I wonder if by then I will have any more heart to give, or if they would even want someone as hollow and scarred as I am.