Category Archive
The following is a list of all entries from the Sorrow category.
Letter to B
I’ve been wantign to sit down and write this for awhile. But, I could never find the point. Why should I pour my heart out in a letter that you’ll probably never read, and if you do, all you’ll see is a page of lies?
I want to be honest with you about everything; I want to come clean about everything, but with so many lies between us how are you supposed to know what’s true?
I see you in the hall and you just look straight ahead, avoiding me. And somehow that determined set in you jaw gives me a bit comfort. Becasue you looking straight ahead, avoiding my eyes, means that you did see me; you still noticed.
It’s hard to tell exactly when I went from being the girl you feel in love with to the girl you now, probably, hate. I’d like to tell you taht I didn’t know I was changing for the worst or that I tried to stop it. But, we both know thats not trues, and I’m committing to the whole honesty things now. Not only that, but we both saw the destructive path I’d stumbled onto. You tried to save me; I know you did. But how do you save someone from themself if they don’t want to be saved? All I can do now is say thanks for trying, and tell you that I don’t blame you for giving up on me.
I keep trying to think of how I want to say what I’m going to tell you next, but all I can think of are cliches. I don’t want to say ‘have a nice life’ or ‘I hope you’re happier now’. I want to use my own words, and I want it to sound sincere, because it is sincere.
I could tell you that I love and that I will always love you in some way, because you are my first love, and it would be the most truthful statement of my life. But, you wouldn’t believe a word of it.
I am so sorry for everything. Simple words for all the shit I’ve pulled over the last few months, but that’s all I can say. There’s nothing I can do to right what I’ve done. I can’t take it all back, no matter how much I want to.
You’ve walked out of my life, maybe forever, and I hope that when I tell you I’ll miss you, you believe it. But, I have to let you go, and I have to move on. Whether I’m moving on for good or just for now, is still the biggest question in my mind. But, I won’t ask you. I can’t.
Last night we talked alot more than we have in long time, and even today you didn’t ignore my texts. I wish I could talk to you in person, but you’ve asked me not to.
There are so many things I want to say to you, and there are so many questions going through my mind. I don’t say it all, but I still say too much. I’ve asked a few questions, but mostly only the ones I already know the answers to.
One question. That’s it. I’ve only asked one question in the last few days that I had no idea what the anwer would be. There were things that made me think it could be either answer. So, I sucked it up, I asked, and you said…you don’t know. I’ll ask when the answer is more clear.
Last ngiht I didn’t ask you if you still love me. I’d already assumed that you don’t. So, I asked you to just go ahead and say it, so I can just accept it. I thought, it would just be you confirming what I was so sure was true. Now, I know better. I know that part of me was holding onto some hope that you would say you do still care. The smarter part of me, knew you’d say you don’t.
Maybe, now I’ll be able to move on. I’ll have to let go. I thought I’d already let go; I told myself I had no right to still hold on after everything that I’ve done to you. But, now I know I was still holding on tight; I think I still am and will for awhile.
When, I see you, it hurts. You look so angry and so hurt and just unhappy most of the time. And, I know that that’s because of me. Sometimes I see you smile, though, and I see you laugh. And, I hope that you’re not just putting on an act this time, like I’ve seen you do before. I hope that you really are happy now. Because, I don’t want you stay unhappy because of what I did.
I love you, and always will in some way. Good-bye.
Admitting I Don’t Care Anymore
Why is it that no matter what I do, Brandon forgives me? I don’t deserve his forgive over and over. He’ll be mad for awhile (mostly with good reason) but he always gets over it with a little timeHow can it be that someone’s (besides God’s) love could be so unconditional? Lord knows, that when I’m doing the stupid stuff,I know it’s wrong and I know I shouldn’t be doing. But, when I’m doing it, I don’t care. What’s scary, is that I’ve hit a point where even when I wake up the next day, when I think back I still don’t care. I used to kick myself in the mornings when I’d wake up and remember the stupidity of the day before.
It was barely even 24 hours ago that we were arguing about the almost-topless pictures. (apparently I’m a tease, and they tell me this like I’m supposed to care; yeah right) And, he asked me to be his girlfriend again. As long as I promise not to do the stupid shit again he’s good.
And, now we’re back together. Again.
I think he loves the person he wants me to be, the person I used to be, more than the person I am. Sometimes, I want to be that person, too, but even if he can’t accept it, that girl is gone. Most of the time, I’m fine with the person I’ve become, or maybe it’s just that I don’t care enough to be better anymore.
The don’t-give-a-damn, self-destructive girl that I’ve slowly turned into is easier, and sometimes more fun, to be than the good girl I used to be, and could be again if I would just try. Sadly, though, I really don’t feel like putting in the effort to be that person.
I should feel ashamed for sending those pictures, but really I don’t even care. And, that should should scare me.
The only reason I’ve stopped doing some of the bad stuff, is the fear of leaving my home town. That scares the shit out of me. I guess, if you’d ask Brandon, though, he’d say I just stopped letting my mom catch me.
But, I’m done now. I may not feel like trying to be the good girl, but I don’t have to be the bad girl either. I just have to surround myself with the good friends again, and push away the bad. It’s easier with the right people.
Depression Part Two
In Depression part one, we left off where Brett had just asked me how bad I thought my depression is. (I had to go because my mom needed the computer.)
“Well, I think, that if you think you’re depressed then are. You know your body and you mind better than anyone else. You know if your sad or not….
….I think that really you’ve been depressed for a long time. That’s why you’ve always had problems with your sleeping and with your weight. I think that when you had to quit dance, that’s when you really started going down hill…”
That’s what my stepmom said. At least, that’s al ong the lines of what she said. I put it in different words for two different reasons: first, I can’t remember exactly what she said, and second, what she said was what I thinking but couldn’t put into words. I completely agree with what she said, and I am so glad that I have her to talk to. She has been a great friend, and a big influence in my life and in the choices that I make. But this post is not about that, so let’s get back to the subject at hand.
Depression. It sucks. Obviously. But, you don’t really know how bad it sucks until its you. Some days you don’t even want to get out of bed. Not unusual for a teenager maybe, but with depression its different. It’s like you can’t get out of bed. Just the effort to pull the covers off yourself and get your feet on the ground is almost too much. You just want to throw the covers over your head and curl up in a little ball. Nothing seems fun or worth it anymore. I used to write all the time. It was my favorite thing and I was/am good at it. In the past five or six months, though, I haven’t really written much at all. I would sit down to work on one of my stories or to start a new one, and I would just get so discouraged. It just seemed like a long boring task, when really it was just the opposite. But, I would put my laptop away and I’d forget all about writing. The same goes for my art. I was always doing either pen & ink or chalk & charcoal. Then, my art started to lose its meaning and I stopped caring about it. It seemed pointless and trivial. I’d always loved it before, but then I just lost interest in it. Life itself became a useless, boring task.
So, now I’m back in counseling and I’m feeling better. Talking to Brett really helps. I go about every 3 weeks. And, after every session it’s like a weight has been lifted. I can tell Brett things that I would normally keep bottled up. It helps that he can’t tell because of the whole confidentialitly (I can’t spell that word) but he’s also easy to talk to. Oh, and I asked Mom about what he can and can’t tell her or anyone else. She said that he can only tell if I’m a danger to myself and/or others. That’s what I thought but I wasn’t really sure.
I’ll keep updating about the depression, though. So until later….
