feelings 1:12 a.m.

I don’t like this feeling.

I don’t want to feel it.

And the worst part about the feeling? I know that I’m going to keep feeling it.

I don’t like talking to some of my friends about it. Becuase it feels like I’m being “overdramatic.”

Am I?

Am I just taking things out of proportion?

Would you feel the same way if… I don’t know how to give this story without context. But I don’t want to give context because I’m just so exhausted, not only over this issue but the fact that it’s the same damn person every single time. It’s the same person who makes me feel like shit.

I don’t think it even really matters what happened but more so how I keep letting it happen.

I keep forgiving Phoenix for everything he puts me through. And not because he deserves it or solely because I have feelings for him. But because I feel like my emotions aren’t valid.

I mean if I thought of him as a friend would I still be hurt over everything he’s done to me? I’m not actually sure. I feel like I would still be hurt but not as much.

But the problem is, he keeps hurting me. And I keep letting him.

Whenever I find a reason to be mad at him, it never sticks around. It’s an excessive disturbing cycle. I get mad, I might rant to some of my friends, I think of all the crap he’s put me through, I “think” I’m ready to hurt him as much as he’s hurt me, and then… he talks to me and I submit. All it takes is one mere act of him sending me a message and maybe at first, I’m like “You’re a piece of crap.” But eventually, he warms up to my heart again and the cycle restarts itself.

I’m tired.

I know I can never stay mad at him. But I should. Because he keeps treating me like I don’t have feelings. Just the other week I told him that he hurt my feelings (kind of in a joking way but also in a serious way) and he made it into this game and told me to “toughen up.” He’ll never take anything seriously. He thinks all my feelings and emotions are a game.

Whenever he tells me a lie, he never feels bad. He never thinks twice about hurting me.

I don’t want to do this anymore.

Word of advice? If someone has treated you like shit in the past, they’ll keep treating you like shit.

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Fake Friends and Forgiveness

So this might not be like a new experience story because of course, I see some of my old fake “friends” all the time.

And my interaction with her isn’t haunting me and I’m not overthinking it. I actually considered not writing about this because it’s not really a big deal to me and I don’t want to make it bigger than it actually is.

It’s not the interaction itself but how I reacted in the mere second I saw her.

I feel like you should have some background on this fake friend. We became friends freshmen year and I actually thought she would stick around for a while. Of course, our relationship wasn’t perfect no relationship ever is. But I never thought that there would be months that we wouldn’t talk to each other or instances where we see each other in school and act like we weren’t close. Or at least she acts like we weren’t close.

But honestly, it’s not like she was an amazing friend to me. In my sophomore year, (my current worst year in high school) I sat with her at lunch because my best friend didn’t have the same lunch period as me and I was still kind of a newbie to high school so I didn’t really have any other friends. There were days where it was shocking when she came to lunch or she told me where she was at lunch. She just left me some days to sit at a table alone. One of these instances involved her sister seeing me and telling her that I was alone which then made her call me near the end of lunch and tell me that she was in the library. She never even told me she was in the library in the first place, only after her sister saw me alone. A pity call.

That was literally the worst period of my life. I thought I wasn’t worth enough to even be accompanied at lunch.

But our friendship kept going (on snapchat) because I tend to forgive and forget. But then she started hanging out with other people and finding her “real” friends. It always felt weird seeing her snapchat stories of her having fun and doing so many things while I sat at home with anxiety. It didn’t feel weird it felt like crap. But to see her with all those friends?

What was so wrong with me? Why did she want to throw me away like I was a useless piece of garbage?

In December, I don’t remember who talked first but it happened and the conversation lasted for days. I tried hard to talk to her even in times when I could feel that she didn’t want to talk to me. Even in times when her replies shouldn’t have deserved anything more. But I didn’t want to just leave her on read and let whatever our friendship was to come to a definite stop. It was honestly nice to talk to her again. It felt like old times.

But it didn’t last.

Nowadays, I barely think of her (except of course when I’m checking that dumb, needy app) but that doesn’t mean it still doesn’t hurt. I even find myself not being able to look at her story because of my hurt feelings.

Back to the present. I see her when I go to my fifth period out of nowhere. I can’t really avoid her or pretend I didn’t see her because the hallway is pretty empty and she already caught my eye. She smiles and seems excited and opens her arms for a hug. I don’t really know what

I don’t really know what happened in that moment. When I hugged her, it didn’t seem fake on my part. When I smiled at her, it felt fake at first and then it felt genuine. Then she said a joke about my smallness and I retorted back a joke.

I tried to be hurt. I tried to be fake. But it didn’t work. I was real. My smile didn’t feel fake.

Maybe it’s because everything happened in seconds and it wasn’t even a long interaction, but how I reacted is bothering me.

I always forgive and forget so easily.

I forgave and forget all the crap that Phoenix has put me through, but that’s partially because I have feelings for him so I can’t really allow him into the circle.

But why do I always forgive and forget? Even if that person doesn’t deserve forgiveness?

After that interaction, neither one of us is going to reach out to the other. So why did I feel the need to be genuine with her?

Why wasn’t I able to give her a fake smile? Why wasn’t I able to give her a fake hug? I mean I know I’m capable of it. I always fake smile whenever a family relative criticizes my weight (like it’s any of their business).

Is it weird that I want to be fake? It’s not really that I want to be fake but the fact that in literally a mere second I was able to forgive someone who made me feel like crap is bothering me. I was able to forgive someone who I wasted so much of my time and energy on. I was able to forgive someone who made me question my self-worth.

And I don’t like that.

Because there have been instances where all I do is forgive people… no there haven’t been instances— it’s my whole life. It’s my life where all I do is forgive people for hurting me.

Why?

Because I don’t want to make it into this big thing. I don’t want to be “overdramatic.” I don’t want to make them feel uncomfortable. I mean our thoughts are way way way deeper than life actually is. If life was tv, our thoughts would be a soap-opera drama while our real lives would be a comedy. I don’t want to make the situation worse than it actually is.

I don’t really feel like my feelings are acceptable. Yes, it would be worse if I held onto most things and had grudges.

But I don’t want to keep getting hurt. I don’t want to keep forgiving someone so much to a point where I’m losing a piece of myself. If I keep forgiving people who don’t deserve to be forgiven for what they did to me, what does that make me?

A good, forgiving person who had the company of someone who saw me as “not enough.”

Because even if I’m the one who keeps forgiving. The other person is still the one who is 100% unfazed of hurting me. They are still the person who has lost nothing. They are the person who “got rid of garbage.”

I know this from experience: If I keep forgiving and forgiving one person all they’re going to keep doing is continually hurt me. I can’t let that into my life. I don’t want to.

Honestly, I’m doing that right now where I’m constantly forgiving someone who continually makes my mind hurt from all the overthinking. And it sucks.

It’s really not fair when it comes to fake friends and just fake people in general. You give them literally your all and all they can give you is nothing but pain and hurt and a piece of your heart missing.

It’s funny. You would think that once a fake person is out of your life everything is great: the sky is clearer and your headspace is better. But in a sense, it’s worse. Because whether you want to admit it or not— they took a piece of you. A piece that took you a long time to make.

A piece that you can never get back.

You try so hard. Some days, you might even fool yourself that it’s okay and you’ve forgotten all about the person and all they’ve done to you. But all it can take is one mere second for you to realize that it’s not okay.

And in that second you should realize: Yes, my feelings do matter. Yes, I am worth it but they are not worth my time. Yes, they did take a piece of me but I got a lesson from them.

Be honest with yourself. Use your feelings. I know, trust me, I know that there are times when you don’t want to be open and vulnerable with someone. Or you might not want to make something into a big deal.

But it’s better talking about it and forgiving the person because you’ve talked about it instead of forgiving the issue yourself because you feel bad for having feelings.

You’re human. Don’t bully yourself because you are and the other person tends to forget that. Things hurt you, things that the other person might not see as hurtful. But that doesn’t make it okay.

Things hurt you, things that the other person might not see as hurtful. But that doesn’t make it okay.

No one will ever know you better than yourself and if someone is hurting you and you’re questioning if that hurt is “acceptable,” it is. Only you know all you’ve been through. You’re feeling that way because of the past and you don’t want whatever’s haunting you to come true (maybe for the first time or to come true again). The other person doesn’t know all you’ve been through. All the anger, sadness, and pain.

You’ve been through a lot and don’t take away all that development away to just shun your feelings in the end. They are 100% acceptable and will always be.

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control.

To have something in control of your mind is exhausting and ironically…

hard to control.

You cannot control something/someone that controls you.

You submit.

And it’s the only thing you can do.

You submit so hard that you start believing and creating new feelings and emotions shaped to your controller’s beliefs.

Whether you’ve noticed or not you’ve started destroying and erasing pieces of yourself.

You’ve let your controller take over.

Have you ever watched a movie where a person is being mind-controlled and you’ve wondered well why can’t they just snap out of it with resilience?

But have you realized that the exact same thing is happening to you?

You’re being mind-controlled.

You’re being taken over.

You’re not being yourself.

Would you call that healthy?

Would you want that to keep going on?

Sometimes the thing or person controlling you isn’t always some guy in a cloak with out-of-this-world powers or a hypnotizing object. Sometimes what or who’s controlling you is unaware or not meant to control you, but you’ve let them control you.

It’s hard not to submit.

Submitting, nowadays, is easier than fighting.

But you should fight.

Because your mind deserves it. It deserves peace, calmness,

and it deserves not to be controlled.

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I’m Back… Hopefully

You’re reading that right.

So I don’t know if anyone’s noticed if I’ve been gone or if anyone remembers who I am. I’ve been gone longer than I… planned? expected? I never really planned or expected to actually be “gone.” I think the term “taking a break” would fit better.

Like I said I never really expected or planned to be gone or to take a break. But days just turned into weeks and then weeks turned into a month.

During the time that I left, I was going through some crappy feelings and I felt like I needed to sort that out. Because I didn’t just want to keep posting about some guy… I felt like that was… dumb? I just felt like the content of my blog would be downgraded if I talked about the same subject (Phoenix). And I know it’s my blog I should feel free to talk about whatever I want but it didn’t feel like that during the time that I left. It just felt like my job was to please people.

So I needed to take time away from posting, from the likes, from the follows, from everything. I needed to talk to my friends about him. I needed to not make my situation into a blog post because it didn’t help.

(If you’re interested in what did help this situation then, please keep reading.)

Because blogging didn’t help I thought that maybe I should stop making blog posts… Yes, I actually considered it. Because as weeks went by I didn’t really find myself wanting to go back to writing blog posts and I don’t know why… One of the reasons why I made a blog is because I wanted to get my feelings and thoughts out there and it helped. But if it couldn’t help me with Phoenix and that whole damn thing could it ever help me again? What was the point if writing out my feelings couldn’t help me anymore?

But then I forgot the other reason that I started this blog. Because it’s been like my diary. I wanted a place I could go to where I could remember everything that has happened to me and all I’ve been through. So hopefully one day in the future I can be like “Wow, I made it through.”

Today, I was scrolling through my old blog posts because I needed to find some poems to enter into this scholarship program and I found myself looking at all these stories and all these emotions and feelings and it’s. all. there.

What?

Me. I’m here. I’m there. My feelings. My emotions. My thoughts. They’re all here. There are so many pieces of myself on this blog. Not only that but who I am is here in this blog. And I don’t think I can let hopelesslystrong go. I couldn’t give this up. I couldn’t let this go. I forgot how much I could say without feeling the need to hold back.

Plus I don’t think I would be able to make that goodbye post and say goodbye to those of you who have been there to always make me smile (I would probably ask you guys for another way of communication so we would be able to talk) But still it wouldn’t feel the same to say goodbye to hopelesslystrong.

So I’m trying this again. And hopefully, this will be a new beginning for hopelesslystrong. And I knowwww I feel like I should have a new theme or a new background or something. But I’m pretty happy with my background so no drastic changes to my site lol. Just a new start, mentally, for this blog. So… a lot has happened since I’ve been gone:

Hopelesslystrong turned 2 years old! I’m so proud of this blog and what it’s done, not only for me, but for what it has done for others (e.g. when people tell me that my posts teach them something new). Being gone has made me appreciate this blog more and I want to say thank you to every one of you who have kept me strong because I could never be here without you guys.

The whole Phoenix thing is resolved. We’re friends again. I had to let go of the “chapstick thing” No, trust me he’s a good guy. During that whole time, he wasn’t talking to me and I wasn’t talking to him I had a lot of doubts and the one question that bothered me so much was Did it even faze him that we weren’t talking? Well, he told me that when someone is quiet with him then he’s quiet too and loses focus… I know that might sound like some confusing shh-tuff (my attempt at trying not to curse) it was confusing to me too, but he’s a good friend. Yeah, friend. He’s not really a good person to fall for though. Even though my heart might beg to differ. I mean I don’t think you would want the person you’re falling for to say that they were losing focus over you and your friendship together. But other than that, we hung out together after school and it was honestly so nice. We went to this huge library and just talked. We talked about our lives, our pasts, our fears, anything and everything and it was so nice. We talked for maybe 4 or 5 hours. It was just nice to feel happy without overthinking about it. But trust me, I’m a football thrown into the friendzone.

I took the SAT!!!! And I survived it!!! I honestly don’t know how. I burned my brain the week beforehand studying and my eyebags has eyebags. I don’t know how I did but I feel okay about it. I did what I could and I’m okay with it. I’m just happy I survived (really thought I wouldn’t make it out alive… okay stop being overdramatic Rebecca… I’m sorry)

I have no idea about college applications. That sentence didn’t even make sense. All that sentence means is college apps = ew. That whole thing is on my shoulders and I’m trying to take a college credit class but I’m kind of on uneasy terms with my dad and he’s the one I have to talk to about taking the class. I asked him and he said he would think about it but he hasn’t told me anything. I’m on uneasy terms with him because he wants me to be a doctor but… no, thank you. I cannot be held responsible for someone else’s life and I hate being around sick people. I already have the worst immune system ever. I’m thinking of majoring in forensic science and having a minor in music because I can’t let go of my dream. I also have a bunch of anxiety thinking of asking my teachers for recommendation letters and going to my counselor to talk to him about this.

Andddd…. it’s the last week of school this week! And honestly, I’m really ecstatic and scared at the same time. Happy because yessssssss I very much want this stress to be over. Also, I might get my license over the summer but I’m so anxious to take the test. But scared because I don’t know how many of you read my posts during spring break but if you did you would know I had the worst spring break ever. I was so mentally broken down. Because I never got out of my house and I hated seeing these same four walls and I really don’t want that to be my summer. I don’t want to have a boring summer, that might seem like something overdramatic like who cares if you have a boring summer? It just mentally breaks me down being and doing the same thing over and over again. I’m also scared because of the friends I’ve made this year. I think you might know where this conversation is leading. Fake friends. I think I can pretty much tell the “friends” who are going to turn into fake friends. But actually being extremely close to the possibility that the people I’ve made as friends are going to leave me in the dust make it all so tiring.

I thought that if there was a possibility that this come-back post was, in fact, going to happen that I would be in a happy place. But I’m honestly not in a happy place. I’m stressed and tired and I want to just give up sometimes.

But then I remember the small amount of people who have always had my back. I remember all those other times I wanted to give up but didn’t and there’s a reason I didn’t. Because I’m curious. I’m curious as to what my future has in store for me. Yes, even though school is going to be over, college decision-making is still going to be on my back and that stresses me out to no end. But I’m taking it one day at a time. And I know that God won’t let me down. My faith isn’t something I want to doubt or let go of. I think I’ve done that too many times before in the past.

So that’s what’s been happening to me in the past month, how have all of you been? I honestly hope you’re doing good. I’ve missed you guys so much! Hopefully, with everything on my plate, I’ll still be able to make blog posts because nothing is better than the feeling of typing endlessly not having to hold back on anything.

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weight.

Was I a weight?

On your shoulder?

On your soul?

Was I dispensable?

Was it nice when it ended?

Now you don’t have to put in any more effort.

Was I a burden?

You had to carry my insecurities and my secrets like a pack mule, now it doesn’t matter anymore.

Now that it’s done.

Was I easy?

Someone that could be easily fooled and played.

Target practice.

Was I nothing?

Just a useless pawn who, according to you, is devoid of any feelings.

Who apparently holds all the blame for everything.

Was I a back-up?

Just something that could be saved for later.

You have me in case it didn’t work out with someone else.

Was I naive?

Even through all my doubts, I believed all your lies.

I was falling faster than gravity would ever allow.

Was I the village idiot?

For believing that everything coming out of your mouth was the truth.

I played your games, unbeknownst to me that they were actually games.

Was I replaceable?

Once I’m gone nothing will change with you.

Because I was nothing to you in the first place.

 

Was I too broken?

Maybe you had to get out before you got too deep.

It was too much for you.

Was I wrong?

About everything?

For believing in a dumb reality and breaking down my walls.

Am I a weight?

no.

I am not a weight.

I am not dispensable.

I am not a burden.

I am not easy.

I am anything but nothing.

I am not back-up.

I am not naive.

I am not the village idiot.

I am not replaceable.

I am not too broken.

And I was not wrong. Nor will I ever be wrong.

I won’t let you do that to me anymore. I won’t let you lure me into thinking that this is all my fault. It’s not my fault.

I won’t let you control me anymore.

I am not a weight anymore.

You won’t be my weight anymore.

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all it takes is a day for things to happen.

I met you again on a Monday.

It was a weird day for me.

It was confirmed that we had four classes together that semester on a Tuesday.

Purely coincidental, right?

I realized that I started harboring feelings for you on a Saturday.

Was it only because I wanted to get over someone?

You remembered me on a Friday.

It was weird for us to be talking again for the first time in 2 years.

You smiled at me for the first time on a Friday.

We had Spanish presentations that day.

You said “Hello” to me on a Friday.

And that’s the moment I knew I was in for a long ride.

I saw you with your girlfriend outside the door of our first period class on a Tuesday.

And my heart broke in a way I didn’t ever want to feel again (but still keep feeling).

I told my other best friend that I like you on a Sunday.

I guess that’s when it became real.

I had to sit next to you in class on a Thursday.

Because the seat next to my best friend was taken.

I gave you the binder that you left in class on a Thursday.

But I never told you it was me.

I liked having a conversation with you on a Thursday.

It was awkward for me at first but you were still the same nice person from freshman year.

You moved to the right in the front of the room for me so that I could be able to stand next to you and see (because I’m short) on a Friday.

And I still don’t know what made you do that.

I realized you started bringing me happiness on a Tuesday.

And I vented to my best friend about how you would never break up with your girlfriend and it was hopeless.

You told me not to give up on a project on a Thursday.

So I didn’t.

I realized I couldn’t do anything about my feelings on a Tuesday.

Your smile and the way you looked at me didn’t help.

I found out that you broke up with your girlfriend on a Wednesday.

It was hard to believe, I didn’t think it would actually happen.

My friend told me to get your number on a Saturday.

And I thought how would that ever happen.

You accidentally bumped into me on a Thursday.

And it was hilarious because you felt so bad and thought you had crushed me.

I figured out our friendship was platonic on a Thursday.

And it hurt me.

I realized I didn’t want to lose your friendship on a Friday.

So I held on, even with my feelings, because of who you were.

Our Spanish teacher assigned your seat right in front of me on a Friday.

And I knew life was laughing at me somewhere.

You smiled at me for the hundredth (I didn’t actually count) time on a Thursday.

That’s when I realized that could be the one thing that could kill me.

Your ex-girlfriend got yelled at by her friends for not wearing her jacket on a Thursday.

She didn’t have it because you had it and my heart broke for the ______ time.

I listened to sad music and created a playlist on Spotify on a Thursday.

Because it hurt so damn much.

I had to avoid you and be abrupt with your questions in Photography class on a Friday.

But I had to ask you for help in that class and you cared.

We had a full conversation in class on a Friday.

It helped but I was very confused.

I got your snapchat on a Friday.

But only because my best friend wanted the pictures of the Spanish packet that you discreetly took on your phone.

I messaged you first on a Saturday.

That’s when our first text conversation began.

You made fun of how I almost fell off the hill on a Friday.

And I wanted to make you fall.

You stopped our conversation and left my side to go talk to her on a Friday.

Of course, why would you keep talking to me?

You asked me if I had depression on a Wednesday.

I told you the truth about my anxiety and knew that this wouldn’t be an easy crush.

I opened up about my anxiety to you on a Saturday.

And it was weird for me.

You told me you were interested in who I was on a Sunday.

And if my anxiety was convincing me that I was bothering you- you wouldn’t be doing your job as a good friend.

I found out we had no classes together in second semester on a Monday.

I felt my heart drop and questioned life’s intentions.

I told you that I was upset about it on a Monday.

I can’t believe I was that comfortable with you to tell you that.

You told me you would never forget me and that we would still message each other on a Tuesday.

It made me feel better.

You got yelled at by her to hurry up on a Wednesday.

And one of my classmates/friends asked me if you were back together with her.

You sat next to me in class on a Thursday.

Because that would be our last class that we had together, but the 45 minutes went by too fast.

My best friend told you that I could sing on a Friday.

And you said you were gonna hear me sing one day or another.

The new semester began on a Monday.

It broke my heart not to see you every day in my classes.

I missed you especially in Spanish class on a Monday.

Because you made that class bearable.

I saw you on the staircase with your new haircut on a Tuesday.

And I yelled at you for not responding to my message.

I saw you walking with her on a Tuesday.

And I knew, for a fact, that you would never miss me as much as I miss you.

I asked you how you would feel if our friendship ended on a Thursday.

And you told me you would be sad, real sad.

I thought my anxiety messed up our friendship on a Monday.

Because I was overthinking the fact that you didn’t talk to me for a week because your messaging wasn’t working.

I realized that I was scared on a Monday.

I was scared to lose you.

I told one of my friends who’s also your friend that I liked you on a Monday.

And she told me that you never got back together with her, you were just best friends with her.

I thought you weren’t trying anymore in our friendship on a Friday.

Did you even want to hang out and see me?

I turned around to talk to my friend just so you wouldn’t talk to me on a Friday.

Because I needed to protect my heart.

You told me you had your college life planned out already on a Sunday.

And I was jealous because I didn’t even know where I would want to go to college.

You hugged me on a Monday.

And my heart wouldn’t stop palpitating for 10 minutes.

You told me my sarcasm makes you laugh on a Thursday.

I really was growing comfortable with you.

You told me that we should go to Ethiopia and India on a Monday.

But it was just for the conversation, right?

You told me we should text shorter to each other on a Friday.

So that we would be able to have time to talk more.

You told me you wanted to watch the school play with me on a Thursday.

But we both had conflicting schedules and I told you that there would be other opportunities for us to hang out.

I gave you a nickname on a Saturday.

And you were already finding ideas for mine.

I told you that fake people don’t know the real me and think I’m quiet on a Saturday.

You told me that must mean I’m comfortable with you and we’re comfortable with each other.

You gave me a nickname on Sunday.

And we figured out that we had a lot in common, like finding puns hilarious.

You told me that instead of planning to go to the play we should’ve gone to see a beautiful sunset on a Monday.

I told you I want to escape from the city and see the stars and you agreed that that should be our goal for the semester/summer.

You gave me candy on a Monday.

I have horrible eye-to-hand coordination so you had to throw it into the hoodie of my jacket.

I saw you on the staircase and you stopped me from going to lunch to have a short conversation on a Monday.

You asked me if I wanted to hang out with you over spring break, making you late to class.

You told me that whenever we see each other briefly at school and have our little talks away from texting it makes your day on a Monday.

You really aren’t helping me.

You told me you felt bad because you went to Chipotle and couldn’t buy me anything because you didn’t have enough cash on a Monday.

Did you really think of me or were you just saying that?

I told you I had a crappy day and you told me that you hope my smile is saved for Tuesday.

In a platonic way, right?

You told me you drove illegally to Chipotle on a Wednesday.

You’re such a bad influence and I thought I had to make sure to give you a bit of my good influence.

You told me you were sad that you didn’t see me on the last day of school before spring break on a Friday.

You claimed that you would pick me up and I told you I was not looking forward to being thrown like a football.

I replied to you shortly while I was in my dark hole on a Monday.

I had a little hope that you would ask me what’s wrong but thought it was just another one of my mind’s impossible realities.

You asked me what’s wrong on a Monday.

I dropped my phone; you weren’t actually supposed to make my mind’s fantasies to come true.

You told me you had to make sure that I knew that you cared on a Wednesday.

And that you would be there when I was ready to open up to you. Liar.

I messaged you my childhood pictures because you wanted to see them on a Thursday.

You thought I was so cute and I asked for your childhood pictures too.

I went into my dark hole again and I opened up to you on a Friday.

My mistake for actually thinking that you would be there and you actually cared.

You read my message without a reply on a Saturday.

And I ruined myself waiting for you to reply because I was vulnerable.

You sent me a message the night before school on a Monday.

I didn’t open it because I was a pissed you left me hanging for two days.

I opened your message on a Wednesday.

And it had nothing to do with me opening up to you.

I told people I could trust how you responded to me opening up to you on a Thursday.

And they told me I deserve better and to move on.

I blamed myself for the whole thing on a Friday.

Because if I didn’t open up to you we would still be talking like we normally do.

I asked my friend if I should be upfront with you about the whole thing on a Saturday.

She told me not to bring it up and to just start a new conversation, so I did.

I started a new conversation on a Saturday.

And I wonder if I didn’t start a new conversation, would you have even cared? Did it even phase you that we hadn’t talked for 3 days?

My friend told me that if you hurt me again she would fight you on a Saturday.

I trusted that you wouldn’t because I knew who you were. I was wrong. I don’t know who you are anymore.

We had a conversation on a Sunday.

But it felt weird, you weren’t responding like you used to.

I opened a message of yours on a Monday.

And you put no effort into replying to what I had to say. Your paragraphs turned into uninterested short sentences.

I cried because of you on a Monday.

Because did I ruin us? Or was I fool for thinking that you actually cared about me?

You opened my message on a Monday.

And you didn’t reply, nothing new.

You replied to me on a Wednesday.

It took you two days to give me your two-second, half-assed reply.

My friends saw you with her on a Wednesday.

I thought why am I even trying anymore when you don’t care.

I saw you on a Thursday.

But how could you expect me to look directly into your eyes? I couldn’t. I had to leave fast.

I overthink about you every day.

Nothing has or will ever change that.

It’s funny how so much can happen in a mere day.

How a friendship can be made.

How feelings can be developed.

But also, how everything can come crashing down.

I’m writing this about the two of us on a Saturday.

Is it the end of us? Was there ever an us?

«Music Saturday»

Rockabye by Clean Bandit ft. Sean Paul & Anne-Marie 

Runnin’ Home to You by Grant Gustin 

No Promises by Cheat Codes ft. Demi Lovato

If This is Love by Ruth B

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everything (or everyone) that kills me makes me feel alive.

Have you ever heard that song from OneRepublic, “Counting Stars?” Well, it popped up in my Spotify today and it had this one line: “Everything that kills me makes me feel alive.”

Well, how does that make sense?

How do things that kill you make you feel alive?

And then I thought about yesterday.

So, yesterday… My heart broke for reasons that I’m not too comfortable with sharing yet. But I will say that my heart broke over a person.

I got home from school and I burst a few tears, but only a few. Then I resorted to listening to sad music and doing my homework to not focus on the pain too much and get my mind off of it.

Then I heard this sad song, “Say Something” by A Great Big World. I know, I know, it’s kind of old and overplayed, but it’s such a meaningful song. And as of that moment, it connected so much with me. So much, that I cried.

Not only a few tears… but I actually cried. I bawled listening to the whole song with a runny nose and everything because the song fully explained what I was thinking and everything I was feeling. Have you ever listened to a song where every lyric seems to be as if it came from your heart? That was this song.

Usually, when I cry I like to dig myself into my hole of darkness and start thinking of ways as to why my life is crap and why this specific person (the one I was crying over) wouldn’t “say something.”

But I didn’t curse out my life or see a reason as to give up.

You want to know what I did when I cried?

I thanked God. Yeah, you read that right.

I was thankful that I was crying and that I was feeling emotion. No, I wasn’t shedding happy tears. I could literally feel my heart breaking piece by piece because everything with this specific person was a mess.

But I was thankful. I was thankful that I was feeling something. I was thankful that I was feeling sadness, a genuine human emotion. I was thankful for my tears and my snot-filled nose (sorry for the visual lol) because I was kind of glad that I was shedding tears.

Is that weird? I don’t really think it is.

Over these past few days, I’ve just shut the pain in and resorted to listening to my mind’s dark thoughts. But on this day, I cried. I didn’t want to act like everything was ok. I didn’t want to shut myself out (which is something I didn’t even realize I was doing). I wanted to let out what I was feeling. I wanted to cry to let out the sadness. I was/am heartbroken.

Everything (or everyone) that kills me makes me feel alive. No, I don’t wish to have that feeling again. But feelings like that, like this because that feeling is still prevalent, only make me grow and remind myself that I’m not always strong, but it’s ok because I’m only human.

I was once scrolling through Pinterest and I saw this quote that I loved so much that I think describes why I was thankful for my tears:

“No matter how broken my heart may feel, I will always be grateful that it still has a beat.”

-Demi Lovato

Please don’t think I’m this person who is so strong and has everything figured out. I might say all of this and very much 100% mean it, but I still have baggage and have moments of weakness. I still break and I still feel like crap here and there. But I’m trying. I’m trying to find the light in my cracks.

It felt like crap (and it still feels like crap) to cry those tears and to feel the pain that the specific person caused me/causes me, but the tears made me feel alive… I don’t know how because here and there I still feel like a used rag, but it made me want to, I don’t know, keep going. Which doesn’t really make sense. But I just don’t want to let the pain of one person break me. I don’t want to give them the power or advantage of breaking me completely.

Emotions aren’t weak. They only remind you that you’re human. And you have to remember to feel your emotions, and remember not to shut yourself out.

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