Read at your own expense. Some poetry is simply inspired by sad things, and mine can be quite dark. If it offends you, I'm sorry. I write soley on how I am made to feel. This is my outlet when I'm in pain, and I will not harness myself in order to try and extend anyone elses blind happiness.
I'm a proud 30 year old, small town, free-spirited, body-positive feminist who believes no dream is too big and the most important values in life are fairness, equality, and honesty. I was Indiana born and raised, although I did spend about four years living in North Dakota with my husband while he was in the Airforce. My husband and I have been married for 8 years now and have three puppy children; Benny (the Bassett), Ollie (the Yorkipoo), and Rex (the Mastiff). I attended Ball State University where I acquired my Associate Degree in General Studies after my Architecture and Psychology majors didn't pan out. I've been working second shift at the same medical manufacturing company for four years, and honestly, at this point in my life, I'm totally fine with it. I'm diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder and hope that by embracing it and learning from it, I can help others who are going through the same things I have.
That person in the mirror,
posted by Heather @ 2:34 AM
4 Comments:
Today was another day of bitter contempt, but I have the best of intentions.
I get so sad when I see everyone with someone because the someone I've been loving keeps looking for someone else.
I can't blame him for waiting, we're young, marriage failures at our age were at about 80% the last time I checked.
I just wish I could find something that works.
Wish I didn't have to keep falling in love just to teach myself to crawl back out.
I want to say 'I love you' and have it mean 'forever'.
Guess college isn't really the place to be looking for those significant others afterall.
It seems like everyone here has their own plans, or they don't plan at all but they know what it is they've been waiting for when they see it.
I just keep losing sight of what I'm doing.
All I've ever wanted was to be happy WITH someone.
I've done plenty on my own.
I just want someone who will stay.
I'm so tired of people leaving, so scared that every person in my life is meant to.
At least I can say I've had someones.
I just wish I could fall in love with someone who will love me long time :)
I want a guy who's going to respect me.
I want a guy who's loyal.
I want a guy who will talk to me about anything and everything.
I want a guy who will think of me before he thinks of himself.
I want a guy who will put himself in my shoes.
I want a guy who will be himself but no longer have those guy impulses that always seem to break my heart.
I want a guy who will have fun with me just because I'm his favorite person.
I want a guy who will do anything just to spend time with me any chance he gets.
I want a guy who will be there when I'm happy and especially when I'm sad.
I want a guy who will give me his whole self.
I want a guy who will accept me as is.
I want a guy who won't run from a fight just because it hurts too much.
I want a guy who will compromise.
I want a guy who will do silly things just to make me smile.
I want a guy who can be serious and honest even when other people are present.
I want a guy who will give me all that he can without expecting anything in return.
I want a guy who will do what he does for me because he wants to not because I told him to.
I want a guy who will always tell me "goodmorning" and "goodnight" no matter where he's at or what he's doing.
I want a guy who doesn't hide his pain.
I want a guy who will broadcast his love for me (because he wants to, because I'm that important to his life).
I want a guy who doesn't need physical satisfaction to be intimate.
I want a guy who listens to exactly what I'm saying and asks me to explain without getting offended if it's a matter I'm afraid to discuss.
I want a guy who realizes that I'm human and I've been hurt and I will do anything for him if he'll just love me as much at the end of the day as he did when it started.
Monica Drake (Oakland University) wrote
at 9:46am on September 15th, 2008
I'm sorry that it's taking me so long to write back to you. I'm at my internship right now (shhh haha), so I can't write you a full-blown message back. But my boss is on the phone, so I figured I'd write back to this, haha. I've just had a stressful weekend. I was gonna write to you last night, but I was completely brain dead and knew my message probably wouldn't make much sense, haha. But that is exactlythe kind of guy I want too. Always remember that I'm in the same boat as you. Whenever you see couples holding hands and feel alone, remember that you're not alone because I'm here and I know exactly how you feel. I know what it's like to see people deeply in love and wish I had that too. But just because we don't have that doesn't mean we're not amazing women. Sometimes I can't help but judge myself based on what guys see me as, and I know you have the same tendency too. But we are fucking amazing women, lol. And I know you don't like to hear "Someday," but someday we will find men who will appreciate that. Until that "someday" comes, you know I'm here, and I know exactly how you feel. You may feel like everybody has somebody. But I don't have a "somebody." But I have you. And you have made me feel more loved that any stupid boy ever has. And we can help eachother make it through while we wait for that someday.
"They didn't agree on much. In fact they rarely agreed on anything. They fought all the time and they challenged each other everyday. But in spite of their differences, they had one important thing in common, they were crazy about each other. "--The Notebook
“Well that's what we do; we fight. You tell me when I am being an arrogant son of a bitch and I tell you when you are a pain in the ass. Which you are, 99% of the time. I'm not afraid to hurt your feelings. You have like a 2 second rebound rate, then you're back doing the next pain-in-the-ass thing…So it's not gonna be easy. It's gonna be really hard. We're gonna have to work at this every day, but I want to do that because I want you. I want all of you, forever, you and me, every day.” --The Notebook
"I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair, I hate the way you drive my car, I hate it when you stare, I hate your big dumb combat boots, and the way you read my mind, I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme, I hate the way you're always right, I hate it when you lie, I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry, I hate it when you're not around, and the fact that you didn't call, but mostly I hate the way I don't hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all."--10 Things I Hate About You
"That's when I realized I'm part of the problem. Not because I remind you. But because I couldn't join you. So I left you alone. Don't give up, okay? "--What Dreams May Come
"You taught me the one thing, the only thing, I should always remember.
Which is?
I forgot. "--What Dreams May Come
"Thank you for every kindness. Thank you for our children. For the first time I saw them. Thank you for being someone I was always proud to be with. For your guts, for your sweetness. For how you always looked, for how I always wanted to touch you. God, you were my life. I apologize for everytime I ever failed you. Especially this one... "--What Dreams May Come
"I forgive you.
For killing my children and my sweet husband?
For being so wonderful a guy would choose hell over heaven just to be around you."--What Dreams May Come
"Is that a kind of occupational hazard of soul mates ? One's not much without the other?"--What Dreams May Come
"Love is passion, obsession, someone you can't live without. If you don't start with that, what are you going to end up with? Fall head over heels. I say find someone you can love like crazy and who'll love you the same way back. And how do you find him? Forget your head and listen to your heart. I'm not hearing any heart. Run the risk, if you get hurt, you'll come back. Because, the truth is there is no sense living your life without this. To make the journey and not fall deeply in love - well, you haven't lived a life at all. You have to try. Because if you haven't tried, you haven't lived."--Meet Joe Black
"Dear Holly, I don't have much time. I don't mean literally, I mean you're out buying ice cream and you'll be home soon. But I have a feeling this is the last letter, because there is only one thing left to tell you. It isn't to go down memory lane or make you buy a lamp, you can take care of yourself without any help from me. It's to tell you how much you move me, how you changed me. You made me a man, by loving me Holly. And for that, I am eternally grateful... literally. If you can promise me anything, promise me that whenever you're sad, or unsure, or you lose complete faith, that you'll try to see yourself through my eyes. Thank you for the honor of being my wife. I'm a man with no regrets. How lucky am I. You made my life, Holly. But I'm just one chapter in yours. There'll be more. I promise. So here it comes, the big one. Don't be afraid to fall in love again. Watch out for that signal, when life as you know it ends. P.S. I will always love you "--P.S. I Love You
My dad grew up an army brat. He was popular in school, always handsome. He was an awesome athlete who could have played professionally. He wanted to go into the military himself, wanted to be a professional baseball player, or a physical therapist. Knee and back injuries and his father's disapproval wouldn't allow it. So he went to college for two years to get a law degree then dropped out after he got my mom pregnant. He used drugs, became a border-line alcoholic, and a womanizer. My mom and dad separated after about three years. He suffered depression, lived alone for the most part, had many girlfriends. He was my hero til my freshman year when I realized my hero was still human. There are several occasions when I remember my dad with a beer in his hands, but I will never forget the night I stayed up in a house I wasn't familiar with, waiting for him to come home safe. A daughter isn't supposed to be the one losing sleep over her father because he's out too late bar hopping. A daughter isn't supposed to watch her father cry because he's so drunk he becomes an emotional wreck, especially when she's already on medication to fix herself. I always wanted to be strong, good enough, perfect in my father's eyes. Then I realized I was already so much better than him. It made me sick, made me hate him. For the way he treated my sister when she failed first grade, for the way he treated my grandmother when she wanted to take care of him, for the way he talked to my mom because she wanted him to be responsible and act his age. I used to want to be just like him, but now that thought terrifies me.
My mom grew up in a strict household. She didn't have a lot of friends. Everyone talked down to her. She would pretend to be sick so she wouldn't have to go to school where the teachers harassed her, and her mother wouldn't believe her when she told her. My mom was trained, obedient, timid. She's always walked the line, or so I thought. She was an athlete, miss congeniality, an honor roll student. She went to college, I assume because her parents wanted her to, but she too dropped out. She got pregnant, not once, but three times. She aborted her first child. Paid for it herself while all my dad did was sit in the car. She miscarriaged the second, and my dad still wasn't there. My grandma made her feel like she deserved it. Then there came me. Her pride and joy. My dad only married her because his family guilted him into it. I don't even think he was there when I was born. No one was there for my mom, only 21 and so alone. My mom took up smoking to cope with the things my dad did. He wasn't around much. So it's really no suprise to me if she was dating my step-dad before her divorce was finalized. She remarried a year later. I hated her for it. I blamed her for my dad leaving. She made sure the refrigerator always had food for me, made sure my sheets were clean, made sure I had running water. She took care of me even though I told her I hated her. Even now, she's the reason I have a good paying job, she's the reason I'm in college, she's the reason I can see a counselor, the reason I'm not pregnant, the reason I'm alive. She's been there for me despite all of the mistakes I've made. My dad doesn't ask about my personal business. I figure it's because he doesn't want to be nosey. Our lives are pretty distant, but my mom tries so desperately hard to hold onto me because I'm all she's ever had. My mother loves me despite how hard I push her away. My counselor says I'm angry at her for staying. What kind of daughter feels that way?
My step-dad and I have never had a very close relationship. When he came into my life, I was still daddy's little girl, and this man who moved in with us was an intruder. He was standing in the way of my [thought to be] perfect life. In reality, he's been more of a father to me than my real dad. He's helped pay for my schooling, my food, my clothes. He's been at every sport event, every dance recital, every graduation. He's tried on many occasions to get close to me, but he is merely a character in the background of my life. I hated him so much when I was little that I tricked him into thinking I was going to give him a hug then clawed his face til he bled. I don't remember the incident, but I remember my mother telling me what I'd done and thinking that I didn't doubt it. The anger I had toward him surpassed any rational thought. He had done nothing but love my mother the way she's always deserved, but he was not my father. He could not relate to me on the same level. He was a stranger, but a stranger with a heart. He's my grandparent's age, grew up in an old-fashioned family where they went to church every Sunday, had sit-down meals with the whole family. He was drafted into the Vietnam war when he was 18. He never got a chance to go to college. His younger brother died when he was young in an accident. He doesn't talk about those things much. I sense they're sensitive subjects. I really know very little about this man, other than he was married once before, has a daughter, my step-sister Angela who is in her 30's with a little boy named Gavin. My step-dad is stern, wise, loving, and an all-around good man. I wish the circumstances were different, but I feel there's a wall between us that may never come down.
My grandpa was a police officer for nearly forty years. He nearly died about six or seven years ago from a heart attack, most likely due to his diabetes and smoking. I never knew he smoked before that day. I only knew him as the bear in the bedroom that I'd jump on and wake up before making his morning coffee. My grandma was a teacher's aid for about forty years as well. She struggled with her weight, always focused on her makeup and hair, but wore sweatsuits and floral print. I never noticed how hard it was for her to get along with my grandpa. How little they agreed on. She was all that kept him in line. My grandparents basically raised me before I got into junior high. My mom would drop me off at their house before she'd go to work. I'd eat breakfast there and watch cartoons before going to daycare or school. My grandparents were always there to pick me up. More food and television and games, a little kids paradise. My grandpa built me a tree house. My grandma showered me in gifts. They took me places. Took me to swim lessons in the summer, bought me flowers at my recitals. I was their princess. They didn't know when I was anorexic til my mom took me to the doctor and told them. They never mentioned anything, but I could see it in their eyes. They didn't know about my self-injury. My mom has told them about my counseling and medication, but I know she hasn't told them about my suicide attempts. I feel like a prodigy in their eyes. I can never do any wrong. Even when I came home with tattoos and piercings, and they wondered how their beautiful little girl could become this rebelious woman, they stayed proud. I was their only grandchild til my aunt had her two little boys. Now my grandparents are busy with baseball and basketball. I only see them for get togethers and holidays. Our visits generally consist of dinners and movies and lots of catching up, who I'm dating now, how my grades are doing, if I'm liking my job. Still their princess.
I have a baby sister, Amanda. She's my half-sister technically, but tecnicalities don't matter with us. I remember when she was born. I waited all night with my dad's family in the waiting room of the hospital. I was only about four years old. I wanted to hold her like everyone else (my cousins, one a year older and the other four years older). They wouldn't let me though because I was too little. I began throwing a temper tantrum, screaming, and flailing myself about. That was the first time my dad ever whipped me. He thought I was jealous of the attention she was getting, and maybe if I'd been older that would have been the case. However, all I remember thinking was "that's MY baby sister, and I can't even touch her." She was born nearly 8 weeks premature. I, of course, didn't know what that meant. And once she got home, it really didn't matter that she was premature anymore. There were times I remember that no one was home, and I would have to change her diaper or put her to sleep or feed her. I was too young to have that responsibility. I don't even think I knew how to tie my shoes yet. I remember she fought with me even then, trying to get away and laughing when I would get mad. There were many years when we didn't get along because she would push my buttons to see how far she could go to get some kind of reaction from me. I hated her after that because my dad would let her off easier than he did me and because I had to share him with her. But after a while, she stopped being a brat and suddenly became fun and interesting. We were able to talk together. We'd talk for hours and laugh ourselves to sleep. We'd play games, and everywhere I went she went. She looked up to me. Looking back now, I worry what she saw. She's asked me about my relationships, sex, drugs, self-injury. She says she's hurt herself. She's boy crazy, talks to guys who are nearly four years older than her. She's always been one to follow peer pressure. And now she's worried about her weight, always skipping meals or not eating cause she's trying to be a vegetarian. I know my sister does not think like me, but I see a shadow of myself when I look at her occasionally. There are things she doesn't know about me, things I will never tell her. Her mother hated me. Her other half-sister introduced me to sex. We were both too young to really know what we were doing, too young to consider it molestation, but it's something I will never forget. I love my sister, and I hate to lie to her. I just want to protect her from the things that will hurt her. I want her to live her life on her own terms without any influence from me.
Emma was my best friend for over five years. She's older by four months, but I always felt like I was the one to protect her. I didn't realize how much she held me together. I remember laughing and giggling, playing with homemade flags in the front yard, waving at the cars passing by, water balloon fights, and sleep overs. She knew me when I was innocent, confident, happy. She was there when I changed. She watched me dwindle away to nothing. I never thought about what I was putting her through. I can't imagine watching your friend literally become a skeleton, a ghost of the person she used to be. She never quit loving me, never got scared and ran. She was there, understanding and loving. Til I pushed her away. October 3rd. I was called to the counseling office my 8th grade year because people were concerned about my poetry, black clothing, black makeup, and the self-inflicted wound on my ankle. I found out she was one of the people who had told. I felt like she'd betrayed me. I felt like she was a rat. I felt like she was trying to hurt me, but I knew she was right. She was really trying to help me. One of the few people who took me seriously, knew me well enough, and loved me so much that she knew I wasn't well. I was the one who was a bad friend. I kicked her out of my life because I didn't want help for a problem I didn't believe I had. I wanted to keep my secret life of pain, and she'd made me feel like a freak. I regret pushing her away more than anything. Now, nearly six years later, we're both doing our best to clean up the messes we've made. I just wish I could have been there for her all along.
Tiffany is like my sister. We used to hate each other. Grew up down the street from one another, but we were on completely different ends of the social spectrum. She was in the in crowd and I wasn't, but somehow we came to find that we were a lot happier as friends. In 6th grade, she and Emma and I were an inseparable trio. We didn't care what anyone else thought because we were untouchable. We were our own people. We watched out for each other. I could always count on Tiffany to make me smile. We were rediculous, absolutely stupid at times, but we had fun. I was never more carefree than I was then. Totally comfortable in my own skin. After junior high, however, things changed. I can't help but feel responsible. I became a wedge in our relationship. I wanted to force everyone away so that I could disappear. I thought if people weren't attached to me that I wouldn't hurt them, but closing them off was the worst thing I could do to them. I of all people should have realized that. The one person who didn't expect me to be any certain way, who held such a high regard of me no matter what anyone else thought, was the one person I should have held the closest. Now I feel like if I'd been that friend she needed rather than throwing away our friendship and my morals then maybe we would still be happy the way we were then. At least now she's happy, but I still feel that wedge that separates us. I wonder and worry if it will ever be the same.
Chris was my first love. No matter the guys I talked to before him, the kisses, the dates, the phone calls, Chris was the one I learned to think of before I thought of myself. I wanted to make him happy even when he didn't do the same for me. Actually, a lot of the times I remember he was upset because I was paying too much attention to my other friends or school or being with my family. I remember walking all the way to the next town to see him because I didn't have a car. I got in trouble because I lied to my mom about where I was going. I learned to lie a lot that year. I was happy though. Chris came just in the nick of time. I'd just started my counseling. October 3rd. That day will never be forgotten. It was the end of my life as I knew it. Chris and I broke all the rules. He was my chance to be myself versus who everyone else expected me to be. He was a bad boy, a trouble maker, adventurous. I lost my virginity to him just a few days before his 15th birthday. We'd been together for about 6 months. I wanted to do something to break me of the "goodie goodie" "teacher's pet" label. It was painful and not at all what I'd expected it to be. That was the day I lost my independence. I didn't want to have sex again, but I did because it made him happy. I learned to fake it. It wasn't long before he'd come over while my parents were away only to come and leave. I don't know if he actually ended up cheating on me. He never said, only laughed. Even then I didn't break up with him. I didn't break up with him until the silence started hurting too much. It was a mutual break up. It wasn't the break up that made me crazy. It was being treated like I didn't exist. Like I was garbage that could just be thrown away. I was disposable to him, not a person at all. After all I'd done, he could just forget me and treat me like a whore, "a dirty skanky whore". If love was so cold then I had nothing left to look forward to. I'd given myself to something that was evil, and I didn't want to live that life anymore. I forgave Chris, but I couldn't forgive myself. I'd put myself in that situation. I was to blame for being a fool.
Then there was Max. My longtime crush from 6th-12th grade. He was the guy I believed was totally out of me league. Popular, smart, attractive, funny, and very sweet. When he and I started dating, my life was finally turning back around. It was just before junior year of high school. We were working together at Golden Corral. We spent so much time together, going to the pool, going to each other's houses, movies, parks, eating out, shopping, bowling, whatever. We were pretty much inseparable. For the first time in a couple years I had a best friend and someone who loved me, someone who was there for me. We'd go to school together in the morning, eat lunch together at our same table, go to work after school got out, and I'd sneak out of the house at night to drive around town with him. He became my life. He helped me stop hating myself because I was so busy loving him. One night we were sitting in his car in an empty parking lot, and a cop pulled up with his lights on. We thought we were going to get in trouble for being out past curfew (cause we were still under 18). It ended up just being that someone else got pulled over for speeding, but in that moment he felt the need to tell me that he wanted to propose to me. He said it was just the adrenaline...Not long after that we got suspended from school for practically having sex in the parking lot. It was a stupid decision, and it showed just how immature we really were. My mom forbid me from seeing him. I lost a lot of freedom. Couldn't even talk to him on the phone or computer. We only saw each other at school after our suspention was over. We'd been together for six months at that point, and there was a lot of strain on us after everything that happened. We had sex for the first time, and later he told me I'd pressured him into it. I realized at that point that I didn't know what he wanted versus what I wanted. I thought we were on the same page, but it became more and more clear that I was wrong. I hurt myself. The first time I'd hurt myself in nearly two years. I burned my forearms with my hair straightener. They're the most severe scars I have, and I did it because I felt like I was losing him and because I felt like the world was turning against me. It wasn't long after that when we started arguing, stopped talking as much, and he finally broke up with me. I cried for weeks, skipped school, but did everything in my power to be strong because I wanted him to stop seeing me as a "narcissistic recluse". Everything I did was still for him even after he stopped doing things for me. The guy I'd fallen in love with wasn't there any longer. He did do one thing for me, in the end, that I didn't understand until sometime afterward. When he finally went away to college, he quit talking to me. He only came back to see me once, and he made it clear that things were no longer the same. We were not going to be friends because being friends was too painful. He couldn't stand my hurting myself, and I couldn't stand his not loving me. I'm just greatful he didn't put me through the mind games that so many others have. I was able to cope and heal and move on with my life, but I no longer knew what to do with myself. No longer knew what I wanted or what was expected of me.
My best friend Brandon was key in my life senior year of high school. I remember when we first met on the school bus freshman year. We didn't talk much until the next year when we became lunch buddies. It's hard to believe now that Brandon has become someone so very important to me. He was the chubby dorky kid with glasses and soft funny hair. And he always made me smile. He started working at Golden Corral, and I can't believe it took me as long as it did to realize he had a crush on me. Senior year he pursued me relentlessly, which is ironic to me because he already had me so close, closer than anyone ever had before. I confided my everything to him. For the first time in years I had someone to be an idiot around without worrying they'd get bored or annoyed. I could be myself completely with him. But I wouldn't give him my heart, that part of me that had been wounded. I locked it away, out of reach. I was afraid that I'd not only get hurt but also lose a friend, an irreplaceable friend. It didn't stop us from trying. He was my date to homecoming, and it was the best homecoming ever. From dinner, to the dance, to the bowling alley, to the kiss. It was a kiss that seemed to last five minutes but was probably only 15 seconds. That's how our relationship has always been. He knows me better than I know myself. He loves me unconditionally despite all the times I've hurt him. I remember when he told me he was going into the airforce. I wanted to cry, I wanted to get mad, I wanted to talk him out of going, but I felt selfish. For once, he was telling me about this thing that he felt so passionately about, and I was wanting to keep him from it because of my fears. I didn't want to lose him, but I couldn't give myself to him entirely, so I let him go. He had a girlfriend for over a year, and there was a time when she wouldn't let him talk to me and tried everything in her power to keep me from him. I guess she knew us better than we knew ourselves. I remember one night when Josh and I weren't talking, and I walked across the entire campus crying. Brandon and I hadn't talked in a long time, but he was the one person I knew I could call and count on to make me smile. He did. 1500 miles away, he's still the one person who can snap me out of it.
My roommate, Kay. She was my first friend when I came to Ball State, and she's still the one who's standing by me. There have been plenty of times when we've been downright mean to one another. I've called her out on things because I know it will hurt her, and she will say things to me without thinking about how I feel. Yet we still love one another because we're steadfast in our friendship. I know what she's gone through, and she knows me as well. No matter how much we disagree, and no matter how much we get on one another's nerves, we won't abandon each other. There are times that I swear I hate her. I get so mad I can't stand her and don't want to be around her, but I'm so very thankful that she is my roommate. She puts up with a lot from me, and I'd miss our laughs, silly inside jokes, talking ourselves to sleep (the way my sister and I used to). She's a deep person, and I hate it when other people who don't know her judge her. I wish her family would love her better, appreciate her the way she deserves. I get so mad at guys when they take her for granted and focus on their own wants and needs versus trying to give her what she's asking for. I see so much of myself in her, and it makes me sad but it helps me also. I learn from her, and I hope she'll learn from me. She's a pillar in my time of need, even when I won't tell her the things she'd like to know. It's hard for me to open up to her because it's been so long since I've had a girl friend to confide in. And it's always the same old things with me. I just wish I could put on a smiley face for her, but it seems so false to hide the truth.
Josh Mang. The most amazing, unique, fucked up individual I've ever had the opportunity to meet and love. He's the first guy since Max that I have fallen head over heels for just with one look. I don't believe in love at first sight, but I admired him. He emits an aura that lures people in, or just pisses them the fuck off. He's an attention whore with a major hero complex. He has a lot of drama in his life, both serious and unnecessary. But he is inspiring. He talks the big talk and walks the tough guy walk. He's every bit of badass. He's fun, entertaining, interesting, intellectual, headstrong, and passionate. Josh has lost love in the most tragic ways, but he's treasured its value every chance he's had. He's lost friends too young, but he won't let their lives be in vain. The world has taken a lot from him, but he is not bitter or weak. He has shown me what I want to be. He has given me the chance to love relentlessly. The worst of me got the best of us, but I know we will both be okay. He has his freedom, and I have my life. I believe we will always reserve a part of ourselves for one another, but our beliefs and paths are diverging. Fate has something in store for him, and I just don't think that same something is meant for me.
I wrote this note with the best of intentions. Anything negative I said was not meant as an attack, just a realization in my eyes. I have a habit of immortalizing those I love. However, I want people to see me as I am, mortal, flawed, full of mistakes, but still a human with heart and beauty. All of these people I've mentioned, I love for what they are as well as what they are not. I am passionate about people, relationships. I believe I will learn more from them than anything in life. I believe people are far more beautiful and uniqe than any painting, any city, any building, any experience. These people I've mentioned are not the only ones who matter to me, or the only ones who have caught my eye, but they are the ones who have taught me the greatest deal in pain as well as love. I am every bit of who I am today because of the experiences I've shared with them. My life has been sheltered, but I've had the opportunity to meet people of all different backgrounds. Whether they realize or believe it, I'm entiwned in them. They are my contengencies, and they will never be forgotten.
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