No cure, only hope.

I have really been trying to bite my tongue in terms of my current situations in life. I have really tried to be a stand up person, and be respectful, and supportive in people doing what they think they need to in order to be happy. (Whether I’m involved in said happiness or not). I have really really really tried to be the bigger person when it comes to everything, and keep my opinions to myself and my closest friends. But enough is enough. And everyone keeps asking, so here:

My heart is not with me right now. But I’m sure if it was, it would be in pieces. Shattered. Thrown across all parts of Independence and Springfield anyways. I still think about him every day. It feels like I’m stuck in yesterday. And I can’t wait until the day I hear a happy love song on the radio and not want to smash the damn thing up against a wall. I harbor jealousy, and hate, and so many other emotions I could not even begin to explain. I’m ashamed. And maybe I’m in denial because I hate dealing with situations that will bring my guard down. I hate being vulnerable. Because it was the greatest feeling I ever had. Followed abruptly by the worst feeling. But even the best fall down sometimes.

For me, it’s never been about titles. Titles mean nothing. It’s never been about bragging. That means nothing too. It’s not about distance, or sex, or phone calls. It’s not about expensive dinners, or visits. It’s about caring about people. It’s about taking care of people’s hearts and feelings when they trust you to do that for them.

I don’t know why we all hang on to something we know we’re better off letting go of. It’s like we’re scared to lose something we don’t really even have. Some of us say we’d rather having something than nothing, but the truth is, to have it halfway, is ten times harder than not having it at all. But moments are passing really slowly tonight. Probably because it’s all I can think about. My scar hurts. My heart hurts. The memories.. they hurt. And she’s beautiful. Which makes it worse.

I have always been a firm believer in the idea that all things happen for a reason. I have yet to find a reason, but I’m sure there is one. Life if just life. You can’t change it. You can just live it. I have good friends and good family, and life will go on.

“I want you to be with someone who makes you feel what I feel when I’m with you.” – Dawson’s Creek

I don’t want to look back and hold resentment for anyone. I don’t want to think of certain times, or people, or circumstances and harbor anger for any reason. It may be a bit cliche, but that’s where I’m at. Aside from being broken, that is what I want to say.

There is no cure, only hope.

Home sweet Springfield?

I’m sitting on a bed that isn’t mine. In a town where I’m not sure I belong. I thought this was supposed to be home.

Home isn’t supposed to change. Maybe the leaves will look different, or the sports teams will get better.. but home? The people who you love, and are supposed to love you too.. they aren’t supposed to change.

On the same token, Springfield isn’t home either. There too I sit on a bed that isn’t mine, but technically is, and I don’t ever feel like I’m where I SHOULD be spending my time.

I feel as though I’m going through the motions of living a life that isn’t mine. That shouldn’t be mine. But I don’t know how to explain it.

My home, my family, and my heart are in Independence. Some of my best friends are in Columbia. But my school is in Springfield. 3 hours separates me from where I am, and where on most days, I want to be. And I’m not sure what that means.

I’m not sure how to fix what should be my heart. Mostly because it’s broken. And not the kind of broken that you get over. The kind of broken that never heals. The kind that always hurts. The kind where every time something bad happens, you feel like it just got broken all over again.

I miss my Gramma. And I miss my mom. Difference being, I can only enjoy the time left with one of them. I love my mom. And I really hate being so far away from her.

I don’t know what I want anymore. Out of life, out of love, out of anything.

I really don’t. And I’m sick of trying to figure it out. I’m sick of everyone telling me I have to. I’m sick of crying, and being sad.

I’m sick of being torn down.

But I’m the one who is doing it to myself. And I’m not sure how to stop anymore.