I find reasons to be angry with you so that it feels right when we aren’t talking. I’m watching you and your life move on while I’m standing right where you last left me. This isn’t about love. No, this is about something much more fragile, my best friend. Days will go by that we don’t talk, weeks. We recently almost went a month without a single word to each other.
I know that’s no big deal to most people but for someone who lead me through suicide and the early stages of my depression, when I was too afraid to be medicated. Someone that at one point, shared something so intimate and so close. It’s a big deal that I am growing apart from the person I held the closest to my heart, on multiple levels.
It’s easier to be mad at you than it is to convince myself that you no longer need me.
It’s tough to figure out, but once you do your life will be so much easier. You can’t care so much about other peoples lives or about what other people think. If someone wants to be mad at you or hate you or call you names, so be it, fuck them. All you have to do is live for you and not give a damn about anybody else. You’ll learn really quick who your friends are if you stop giving a fuck about everyone. The ones who are your friends will stick around and everyone else will fade away.
I know it sounds harsh or unnecessary but once you live for you and no one else then life will be that much easier.
A year ago yesterday the most wonderful man I’ve ever met took his own life. He had the biggest, most loving heart I’ve ever seen. I’ve never seen someone love so much, open up their heart to anyone in need at any time. No matter what hardships he faced he always wore a smile for those around him. I’ve never seen a man love so much. He took me in when I needed it and gave me a place to stay. He always put other people first. He was the best man I’ve ever met in my life. He is the man that I wish I could be. I hope that one day I can as good of a man as he was.
I wasn’t there for the last few months of his life, but I am…was…very close to someone close to him and she sent me this song. She said that he loved this song and listened to it all the time the weeks before.
I know I wasn’t around for very long, but you took me in and I appreciate that more than anything.
You’ll always be missed.
Being happy feels more like an illusion than an actual feeling. It’s just a cover for the sadness that will hit you after all the smiles and laughs. Sure, for a few minutes, maybe hours, you’re actually smiling for the first time in days, you’re laughing for the first time in you can’t even remember how long, but when you go home and are alone…there it is again. There is no happiness, only distractions from your problems for short periods of time. Happiness is a fairy tale story our parents read to us as a child before bed. Happiness is that ladder rung that you just can’t reach. It’s right there, just one more step, but when you reach for it you slip and each time you slip you fall a little further and happiness gets a little higher on the ladder. It’s hard to imagine being happy. What does it take to really be happy? Is it an item? Money? Another person? Love?…No, it can’t be love. I’ve been in love..I still am. It’s not what I would call being happy.
I wonder what it’s like to be happy. I wonder if it’s even real or just a lie told to us as we were growing up to shield us from the brutal realities of life.
I want to know what happy feels like.
I’m sorry that it’s been so long since my last post. I haven’t internet for the past month. The last thing I remember telling you about where I am, I said I had a doctors appointment.
Well, I went to said appointment…but it wasn’t what I thought it was going to be. I thought I was going to start getting help. They asked about general information, insurance information, what I think the problem is. If I knew what the problem was, why the hell would I have been sitting in that office with you? Little, typical questions that meant nothing. I had to fill out a questionnaire before going in, all of the questions I was asked in person were asked on the questionnaire. I get that you want to see if I’m not making it up or anything, but as more questions dammit. Don’t make it so obvious to me that you are trying as little as you possibly can to help me. At the end of the appointment I’m told “Ok, we’ll call you in 3-4 weeks to see the doctor.” What?…I wanted to get help now…not in a month. It’s a good thing that my life didn’t depend on that appointment, because I’d be dead.
Well, here I am, over 4 weeks later and still no call. Not a letter in the mail. Nothing. I thought I was doing something right. I felt good about myself for seeking help. For understanding that there was a problem. Now I feel unimportant, forgotten, like my problems aren’t as serious as I thought they might be. I was given a number to call in case I was feeling suicidal again. I’ve been wanting to call it and ask if they planned on scheduling me for another time or if they were just seeing how long I could hack it.
I moved to a new house, still with my dad, step mom, brother and sister, but it’s still new. I hate this place. My neighbor has a 16 year old daughter who, I’m convinced, is a pathological liar. She is constantly searching for attention, and when she doesn’t get the attention she wants, she tries to get that person in trouble with lies. I immediately didn’t like her, but she was coming over to hang out with my younger brother (he’s 17), so I dealt with her. When she started to realize that I hated the fuck out of her, she lied to my dad and make fake messages from me. Saying that I threatened her life and that I have military experience so I could kill her. What? No one in the military who has any respect for what they are will never ever say anything like that. It was easy to dismiss though, no one believed her and she quickly proved to be a liar. She didn’t stop at one time though. She would constantly tell my dad that I said thing that I didn’t, blah blah blah. I’m 20 years old, why would I care enough to even say anything to her? It went far enough one day that she hurt herself and said that I did it. Do you know how psycho that is? I’m trying to deal with my own head, I don’t need her making my life worse and for the last several months I’ve been on edge. I just don’t understand why he is even allowed over here anymore when my dad knows everything that she does. I just don’t understand.
I’m ranting…and I digress. I’m trying to fight suicide and trying to deal with a psychotic neighbor at all times…aaaannddd trying to deal with the lack of help from the doctor that I haven’t even gotten the chance to see yet. It’s fun.
Today marks the 1 year anniversary for my blog. I feel like it wasn’t that long ago. My life has changed so drastically since then, yet…it hasn’t. I have to actually sit back and think to recall any memories of that year. It’s been a combination of fast and incredibly slow. It’s a blur of depressing, happy, stagnant, life changing memories. One extreme to the next.
Anyways, that’s crazy, one year. I know I don’t have many followers at all. Currently it’s only 47, but I mean that’s still 47 people that don’t know me that want to read what I have to say. Well, 3 of them know me. 44 strangers. I don’t know what to say. Thank you for reading through my depressing, sad posts. It’s insane…I don’t even have 47 friends who actually care about what I say.
I know 47 isn’t a huge number, but it means everything to me that there are actually people out there who are interested in and care about what I have to say. Thank you for reading or liking my posts. Thank you for following me. Thank you for even just randomly stumbling across this post. It means the world that you even clicked on this to read it.
Last weekend I had one of the best nights of my life, and I will never forget it. Finally…FINALLY getting to sleep with her in my arms. I dreamed of that night for months and finally it happened. I hadn’t seen her in months, since January and I had missed her so much. Her loving touch, her hands in mine, her warm embrace, her kiss. I missed her touch. I couldn’t hold her close enough when I saw her for the first time again. Everything about that weekend was perfect. I wish I could have that every weekend…or every night. I felt so at home with her, like that was where I was meant to be, with my arms around her. Everything just felt so right.
It hasn’t been a week since I last saw her and I already miss her so much. The day she left all I wanted was her to come back so we could spend just a little more time together. Every night I remember back to holding her as we slept. I miss her touch again. That weekend was pure perfection, the truest form of love that I have ever experienced. It was just us, nothing else mattered. Just her and I, no one else, no lies, no drama, nothing but us. I already long to see her again. I would give anything to have her every day, every night.