“Yes, for those who wonder there are other journals online. Sometimes I kind of leave bread-crumbs to get home to them for you. Sometimes I just space out. I also have a pen and paper diary and some letters and what not that I have been typing on my typewriter”
are they still there? i can’t get through nights like this without them. it’s sad how bad it gets.
is it really that bad that i just want some affection? to feel like i don’t have to fight for your attention?
this is so empty
you and me- i mean
we got so
lost
somewhere in the midst of
heart vs. home
but you learned long ago
neither are safe for the soul
he says, “i love las vegas in 24 hour increments”
but, i could never love a city that never had my back.
I miss when people missed me being happy. Does that make sense?
i’m talk to myself, of course it does.
I wonder if you’ll still laugh like this when I’m gone for good.
i am getting so sick and tired of everything. really quickly.
i want to get out of this place, i can’t stand it anymore
I feel more okay with who I am now- sure, there are still a million things I could list that I wish I could change. But, I’m becoming more comfortable with my thoughts and my emotions. I am beginning to grow used to the fact that I will get fucked over and screwed, and people will put me down and leave me there. But I’ve also grown used to the fact that I’ll have friends who will always be there- maybe not physically, but in my heart and mind, always, and that when people put me down there will be one to pull me right back up. Now I know this is full of too many cliches to count, but this is the only way I can think of explaining it. I am becoming stronger. I am beginning to learn how to fend for myself, and to not let people take over my emotions, at least not the wrong people.
I feel (somewhat) okay.
…..
old stuff i’ve written, but i don’t remember writing?
Sometimes,
I just want to scream at the top of my lungs because my head is so jumbled. I feel like I’m losing control over myself because I can’t control my thoughts. I want to write everything down on a piece of paper and watch it burn, as if making it all go away. I’ve forgotten how to make sense, especially to myself.
I guess I’m obsessed with the words because I will never truly know what they mean, past the capacity of my thoughts and imagination.
Or maybe because they scare me, in a way that maybe they are who I am (becoming). But I could never explain it, at least not so that you could understand it, or I even.
