| I'm just figuring stuff out.
I guess. |
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| tweIvethirtyfour: I cycle. I admit this. I hate being content because it means there's nothing to move towards. Nothing to work for and that leaves you at a stalemate.
tweIvethirtyfour: And I've been content. And then some drama flared up. And I love drama. In order to push through it you have to at least enjoy it... Because people who truly hate drama avoid it at all costs and thus feed the fire because nothing is ever settled and loose ends are never tied.
tweIvethirtyfour: And I've gotten through the drama. And I've gotten most of my relationships and such at least stable. But I'm at the point where I don't know what to think.
tweIvethirtyfour: I've got nothing left to really fix, except for myself.
tweIvethirtyfour: Which leaves me looking at my own life instead of my life through the lives of others... Which lets me dwell on my own weaknesses and insecurities, most of which I honestly cannot fix on my own.
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Honesty, it's interesting. |
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| I'm in a mood of sorts. I've so much to say... But I'm not sure how to articulate my thoughts. The words aren't flowing, and my emotions don't tend to make sense to the general public.
There are people out there who I don't give enough credit to. There are tons of them. Those people who will hold your hair back as you're puking your guts out and hugging the toilet--asleep under the sink in a hotel bathroom. Those people who will hold your hand and help you up a flight of stairs when you've just finished watering the bushes with vomit and wandering around without a shirt on because of this chain of events. The same people who will cover you with a blanket and slip a pillow under your head when you've passed out on the floor. Those who can be the biggest assholes in the world--but the moment you begin to cry they hold you close and tell you that you really are an okay person and they apologize for ever hurting you. The people who hug you when your mother brings up your choice of underwear at the dinner table in front of your grandparents.. And those who tell you you're being a dumbfuck when you're being a dumbfuck.
You get the point. And if you don't... Eh.
I've found myself thinking a lot lately. Incoherent thoughts, though. The kind of thinking where your thoughts are running around in circles but not a single thought can be pinpointed. Yet when you're through, you feel as if you've come to some sort of conclusion. I think I'm trying to figure myself out... I'm more complicated than I thought.
But at the same, I've realized that I am increasingly simple. Once you know my quirks and know my general OCDs... Getting along with me should be easy. I'm brash, I rarely offer empathy or sympathy. But I'm real.
The other night I was sitting on my friend's porch. Talking about a habit of mine. This habit... It's not an addiction. I go through the actions but I am not one of those people. But while talking with her--I realize that as regretful some of my choices have been--this is where I need to be. Making it through highschool without a single detention or suspension is overrated. My record is clean... for the most part. A 4.0851 grade point average, fourth in my class, distinguished honors, Honor Society... the whole list. But the rest of the top ten standing on stage, what's tarnishing their records? What is it that gives them a story?
I needed to get in trouble. I really do believe that. It's cliche--but I haven't been the same since. It fixed my relations with my parents. They never believed me to be the "perfect little child" that many have me pegged to be. They know I'm not squeaky clean. But I think this made me real to them. A human, an "adult" whose made--and learned--from her mistakes. I call myself an adult rather loosely--I'm not. My license says I'm eighteen. This means I can buy cigarettes, lottery tickets, porn, vote, and it also means I no longer get to go to juvie if I find myself getting arrested.
But the number eighteen has nothing to do with being an adult. A simple number cannot define a word. I'm legal. Great, I can no longer have sex with minors... and old men can now legally have sex with me. Again, does this make me an adult? Not in the least.
But really, I think I'm growing up a bit. It'll be awhile before I'm done with my reckless stage. There are a plenty more mistakes I need to make and an infinite number of lessons I need to learn the hard way before I can really move on and progress with my life.
Many would describe me as an independent individual. And I suppose that in a sense, it's a valid tag. I can take care of myself, I don't exactly need someone to hold my hand through everything. For the most part, I can walk ahead without checking behind me to make sure the rest of them are still following. The issue, however, is... I'd much rather someone be holding my hand through it all. I like knowing I've a following. I don't like being alone in my decisions. I am dependent, so long as I've someone around me. I don't actively look for a following... I just pray they're there, and I appreciate it when they want the things I want.
I have my walls and I have my reasons. Are they valid reasons? I'm not sure, honestly. I've been hurt, yes. But I've hurt more people than have ever hurt me. I drop people from my life as some sort of precautionary measure. What'm I protecting myself from? I'm not sure. Probably nothing. I'm trying to become more open. I'm trying to give life my all.
"I never thought you to be that type of girl..." Said by a close friend of mine. I laughed when he said it, but given some thought--I'm not that type of girl. But who is that girl? Is she slutty? Does she lack confidence? Does she feel the need to do such things as a symbol of her eccentric-ness or her unique-ness?
Because that isn't me. I've said it before and I'll say it again-- this was for me. Half the people who knew of my plans said I'd never go through with it. Half flat out said don't do it. It'll be ugly. It won't look good. That's trashy. Others went the route of the guy mentioned early. Flatter me, compliment me, say I'm better than that. But I'm not. I'm human, and I'm selfish. I do things for me. I needed to prove something to myself. I needed to do something that wasn't for the good of anyone. I needed to blow fifty-five dollars somewhere with no chance of ever getting my money back if I lacked satisfaction or if I found a flaw.
Because life doesn't have a money back guarantee... and life inherently does not care if you're happy or not.
Life gives you choices, and life gives you room to make shitty choices. Life allows a person so much... And most people never take it and run with it. This is me running.
Just realize--I'm a child in essence. I want to run away, but I forget that I'm afraid of the dark. I want to get the hell out of here, but I forget that my parents won't be coming with me to make me dinner and do my laundry. I want to grow up and make decisions, but I forget the level of responsiblity associated.
I'm childish, selfish, and I have the flaws of a human being. And I enjoy making mistakes.
All I ask is that you hold my hand... And call 911 if it ever gets too bad.
Oh, and don't be afraid to call me a dumbfuck. |
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| I did it.
And it's kinda empowering.
It's a huge toldyaso to myself.
And it definitely kills insecurity. |
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