Self-care.
I gave myself time,
but it kept taking so long.
I gave myself life,
but I desperately wanted to share it with someone.
I gave myself love,
but I felt so lonely.
I gave myself hope,
but I couldn't shake my fears.
I gave myself dreams,
but didn't know how to make them come true.
I gave myself a blueprint,
but couldn't figure out how to build.
I gave myself a deadline,
but I stared at the ceiling instead.
Most of my work fills my head until it spills out of my eyes, ears, and mouth. Just overcome emotions, unresolved issues, and feelings that I can't seem to put a finger on. The story from yesterday? I just tried to wing it with good feelings and peaceful music. There was no direction in sight as I typed away at the keys. I had no vision or idea of where I wanted it to go. I didn't even know if I could allow the character to take me anywhere. I thought about how much I miss running, the perfect setting for where I could do it, and I just wrote.
Those who can't do don't teach. They write.
That's my pessimism talking, or let my therapist tell it my depression talking. I didn't start this blog to be a victim. I actually started this blog to document my life as a survivor of many abuses and traumas I've experienced. I've lived through hellish situations. Usually, when I share my story with people, the first question they ask is, "Why aren't you strung out on drugs somewhere?" As if I haven't considered it. But that's the part they don't want to hear.
What fresh hell is this?
Another gem from my therapist. It sounds so meaningful when she says it. When it comes out of my mouth, or I repeat it in my mind, it's nothing more than redundant. The words aren't enough. It's affecting me physically, the trauma: the headaches, the pain, the despair. Most times I don't even want to admit it to myself. How dare I not have it together and conquered all of my fears by now?! I started this blog seven, eight, or nine years ago. It's 2018. What the hell am I not figuring out?
I should've...
The hardest part about finishing college was finishing college. Everyone around me told me it was taking too long. That I wasn't actually getting it together or fixing anything. It's so easy to focus on a goal because people are telling you you'll never actually achieve the goal. Giving disbelievers your ass to kiss is a beautiful feeling. But there's only so long I can focus on those who don't wish me well. It gets old fast.
Honestly, I'm still trying to figure this shit out.
but it kept taking so long.
I gave myself life,
but I desperately wanted to share it with someone.
I gave myself love,
but I felt so lonely.
I gave myself hope,
but I couldn't shake my fears.
I gave myself dreams,
but didn't know how to make them come true.
I gave myself a blueprint,
but couldn't figure out how to build.
I gave myself a deadline,
but I stared at the ceiling instead.
Most of my work fills my head until it spills out of my eyes, ears, and mouth. Just overcome emotions, unresolved issues, and feelings that I can't seem to put a finger on. The story from yesterday? I just tried to wing it with good feelings and peaceful music. There was no direction in sight as I typed away at the keys. I had no vision or idea of where I wanted it to go. I didn't even know if I could allow the character to take me anywhere. I thought about how much I miss running, the perfect setting for where I could do it, and I just wrote.
Those who can't do don't teach. They write.
That's my pessimism talking, or let my therapist tell it my depression talking. I didn't start this blog to be a victim. I actually started this blog to document my life as a survivor of many abuses and traumas I've experienced. I've lived through hellish situations. Usually, when I share my story with people, the first question they ask is, "Why aren't you strung out on drugs somewhere?" As if I haven't considered it. But that's the part they don't want to hear.
What fresh hell is this?
Another gem from my therapist. It sounds so meaningful when she says it. When it comes out of my mouth, or I repeat it in my mind, it's nothing more than redundant. The words aren't enough. It's affecting me physically, the trauma: the headaches, the pain, the despair. Most times I don't even want to admit it to myself. How dare I not have it together and conquered all of my fears by now?! I started this blog seven, eight, or nine years ago. It's 2018. What the hell am I not figuring out?
I should've...
The hardest part about finishing college was finishing college. Everyone around me told me it was taking too long. That I wasn't actually getting it together or fixing anything. It's so easy to focus on a goal because people are telling you you'll never actually achieve the goal. Giving disbelievers your ass to kiss is a beautiful feeling. But there's only so long I can focus on those who don't wish me well. It gets old fast.
Honestly, I'm still trying to figure this shit out.
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