Wrote this listening to:
My Professor speak about Rigoberta Menchu.
I been having some trouble.
Let me tell you where all of this is coming from.
Im struggling with two binaries.
Im conflicted between “Love and never stop” and “Enough is enough”..
I thought about myself in high school. I thought about my failures and hardships in life during my time in High school. Traumatic events, boys, friendships, family deaths. You know, life’s package?
After thinking about a series of unfortunate events, I thought about what brought me to go this far back?
Healing. I was looking for answers. I was trying to figure out how I got over things so fast. How I was able to be okay so quickly. It got me this far, but how? And how is it that I couldn’t remember?
It took some breaking down to do. With the help of Jennifer of course. A session.
A lot of it had to do with space. My household was never a place to express oneself. So I guess the masking became routine. Night times were my time. Thats when the writing began. I was angry all the time. Everything moved too fast for me. It was routine. I woke up, went to school, slayed, I played volleyball, hung out, and then went home. I was never alone either. Privacy didn’t exist in Apt 2A. Constant in and outs of my room for pencils or the remote. I was used to it. Headphones in always. I had a group of surface leveled friends, now that I think about it.
College was different. My experience so far has been very interesting. Its been challenging, emotionally mostly. Barriers have crumbled and vulnerability has my name all written on it. I have been challenged to come face to face with my emotions and battle them if I liked it or not. I have learned how to speak, how to tell my story, how to love, how to build and set foundations. It was all something new and it felt good. I loved it, but after a while it began to take over. Work wasn’t getting done because for once, I was open and it all became uncontrollable. I wasn’t aware of how much would unfold. I don’t regret anything.
I went as far as telling an individual that I was indeed in love with them. I was able to live and survive on nothing but love. It was every where. It was in the grass, in the glass, in the books, in the stories. That all came to end when the only thing that made me feel safe at the time played with my emotions. I was as honest and happy as I could be and when things couldn’t go the way I wanted them to then I ran. I ran as far as I could possibly go without completely losing the person. It was hard. It was natural.
Now Im stuck. I can’t go back to 100% because it was just played with. I don’t think its the person, but I think its me. I think I am literally just tired. Im tired of expecting. Im young though, and although I have a lot of things to look forward to, shit like this still matter. You know?
Im sort of numb. I lost all feel, I have no energy. I was giving it my all and nothing. It’s not quitting, but more of a long rest.
After a while of always trying to be enough and never succeeding, you begin to question your own actions, the self. But why? Im fine the way I am and I learned that I can’t mold myself to be someone I’m not. No matter how much attachment, love, history, passion is there.
It just isn’t fair to me anymore and I feel like I’m hurting people in the process.
Solitude. Refocusing. Recentering.
I’m just a work in progress.