I want to write. Write write write write, right?
I wonder what is going to come out this time.
Usually it even surprises me... All I know is that I have too many thoughts swimming around in my mind, and I need to get some out. So I write, right?
The other day, I was thinking about moving on. Not moving on from something specifically, just the concept of moving on in general. I wonder if it is a learned trait. Or maybe some people are just born with the ability to move on and others aren't. Maybe there are variations... like some people can move on from some things and not other things.
Let me explain. I think that I have been in love twice. But, I think I would say that I have had four significant "relationships." They are all significant to me, in their own ways.
One of them began almost six years ago, one began three and a half years ago, one began a little over two years ago, and one began about a year ago. Notice that I only put beginnings. Because in some indescribable, probably unhealthy way, I don't think any of them have really ended. Okay, that's not true... one of them has ended. Maybe all the rest of them should get married and have a baby and then I'll be able to truly move on.
I just don't get it. I don't think I have the ability to forget. Not that I want to forget, but I just don't want to feel so much when I remember. I think that this may tie in with my fear of change. My fear of change like this, at least. If something was good and made me happy, I want it back. I want to feel that again. That makes sense, right? I don't know.
Learn to move on. That's what I'm trying to tell myself. Learn from mistakes and move on. Move on and learn. Learn to move on.
My birthday is in two days. The day after tomorrow I jump into another decade.
This is the least I've ever been excited about my birthday. It makes me sad. It's like a few years ago when I wasn't as excited about Christmas as I used to get. It was such a let down. Not Christmas itself, because the day and the family and the love is always so wonderful. But before, there was a certain feeling in the air. So much excitement for at least a month before the actual day. And then one year it was just gone. I don't know where it went. Maybe I'm saving it up for when I have my own kids. Maybe then all of the sudden the magic will come back.
I don't mean to sound so negative. I love Christmas and I love my birthday.
And I love my family more than anything.
I write when I feel, remember?
There is this pit that I get in my stomach sometimes. I'm not sure what causes it... it's just there sometimes. That's when I write the most. I write it out.
It's like I vomit the words onto the paper and the pit in my stomach goes away.
Sometimes.
It was good to see you.
It was good to see you but I'm afraid that that was your closure.
What if I never talk to you again? You sounded too sure when I said "I'll see you sometime" and you said "Yea, maybe."
All we have are memories.
Remember that time that I texted you and told you that I was driving past your house and thinking about you while I listened to Dashboard? I sent you lyrics. "As for me I wish that I was anywhere, with anyone, making out."
I meant you. I loved you so much.
Thank you for coming. And if it was for closure, I hope you weren't disappointed. Maybe your heart will feel a little bit lighter from now on.
I'll never forget. You'll never forget about me.
and that is good.
Good because we were happy. Good because I still have a picture of you and me hanging on my desk in my room. I say that it's there because it's artsy and beautiful. I don't elaborate. Maybe those are really the only reasons.
I'm used to missing people. I've been doing it for my whole life. You would think that I would be better at staying in touch. I'm not.
There are so many words. I just wrote so many words and I don't want to go back and read them.
The pit isn't going away. All the word vomit and the pit isn't going away. My birthday starts in 26 hours and the pit is not going away.
I think if I go back and read the words, I will erase all of them. And then the past 30 minutes would be a complete waste. I can't do that.
Tomorrow the pit will be gone.
Tomorrow I won't miss people so much.
Tomorrow I won't feel so much. I'll feel better.
Tomorrow the sun will be out.
Tomorrow I will smile at a different boy. and move on.
Tomorrow is good.
I wonder what is going to come out this time.
Usually it even surprises me... All I know is that I have too many thoughts swimming around in my mind, and I need to get some out. So I write, right?
The other day, I was thinking about moving on. Not moving on from something specifically, just the concept of moving on in general. I wonder if it is a learned trait. Or maybe some people are just born with the ability to move on and others aren't. Maybe there are variations... like some people can move on from some things and not other things.
Let me explain. I think that I have been in love twice. But, I think I would say that I have had four significant "relationships." They are all significant to me, in their own ways.
One of them began almost six years ago, one began three and a half years ago, one began a little over two years ago, and one began about a year ago. Notice that I only put beginnings. Because in some indescribable, probably unhealthy way, I don't think any of them have really ended. Okay, that's not true... one of them has ended. Maybe all the rest of them should get married and have a baby and then I'll be able to truly move on.
I just don't get it. I don't think I have the ability to forget. Not that I want to forget, but I just don't want to feel so much when I remember. I think that this may tie in with my fear of change. My fear of change like this, at least. If something was good and made me happy, I want it back. I want to feel that again. That makes sense, right? I don't know.
Learn to move on. That's what I'm trying to tell myself. Learn from mistakes and move on. Move on and learn. Learn to move on.
My birthday is in two days. The day after tomorrow I jump into another decade.
This is the least I've ever been excited about my birthday. It makes me sad. It's like a few years ago when I wasn't as excited about Christmas as I used to get. It was such a let down. Not Christmas itself, because the day and the family and the love is always so wonderful. But before, there was a certain feeling in the air. So much excitement for at least a month before the actual day. And then one year it was just gone. I don't know where it went. Maybe I'm saving it up for when I have my own kids. Maybe then all of the sudden the magic will come back.
I don't mean to sound so negative. I love Christmas and I love my birthday.
And I love my family more than anything.
I write when I feel, remember?
There is this pit that I get in my stomach sometimes. I'm not sure what causes it... it's just there sometimes. That's when I write the most. I write it out.
It's like I vomit the words onto the paper and the pit in my stomach goes away.
Sometimes.
It was good to see you.
It was good to see you but I'm afraid that that was your closure.
What if I never talk to you again? You sounded too sure when I said "I'll see you sometime" and you said "Yea, maybe."
All we have are memories.
Remember that time that I texted you and told you that I was driving past your house and thinking about you while I listened to Dashboard? I sent you lyrics. "As for me I wish that I was anywhere, with anyone, making out."
I meant you. I loved you so much.
Thank you for coming. And if it was for closure, I hope you weren't disappointed. Maybe your heart will feel a little bit lighter from now on.
I'll never forget. You'll never forget about me.
and that is good.
Good because we were happy. Good because I still have a picture of you and me hanging on my desk in my room. I say that it's there because it's artsy and beautiful. I don't elaborate. Maybe those are really the only reasons.
I'm used to missing people. I've been doing it for my whole life. You would think that I would be better at staying in touch. I'm not.
There are so many words. I just wrote so many words and I don't want to go back and read them.
The pit isn't going away. All the word vomit and the pit isn't going away. My birthday starts in 26 hours and the pit is not going away.
I think if I go back and read the words, I will erase all of them. And then the past 30 minutes would be a complete waste. I can't do that.
Tomorrow the pit will be gone.
Tomorrow I won't miss people so much.
Tomorrow I won't feel so much. I'll feel better.
Tomorrow the sun will be out.
Tomorrow I will smile at a different boy. and move on.
Tomorrow is good.
