Everything Must Belong Somewhere.

So when is it my turn for everything to work out?

Because when I want to talk, your phone is off.
And when I want to cry, I laugh.
And when I get angry, I cry.
And when I want to say the most what is on my mind, I shut my mouth.

And why do you always get everything I have ever wanted?
Everything I have been through hasn't been enough?


Do I push everybody away?
Or am I just too perceptive to the distance between me and everybody else?


I think I am going to delete my facebook. I am tired of seeing everybody's happiness.

Priorities.

I am rarely anybody's priority. That bothers me, alot.
Today I got fired from my job. Excuse me - demoted. That pisses me off more than anything could have, and I am pretty enraged about it. I put my heart and soul into making this company the best it could be. Right now I want to burn it to the ground.

I used to be really optimistic. But I feel like no matter what I do my life sucks. I am just SO sick and tired of being everybody's everything and having nothing.

I keep looking around my room. It is a disaster.
Speaking of my room, I have to move out. I can't pay rent. I have no job.

Speaking of jobs, I have to start looking for a new one. Otherwise I won't be able to make my car payment, or pay my insurance, or my phone bill. Speaking of which, all are due in the next week. Awesome.

My favorite is that I tried to resign a few weeks ago and they asked me to stay. I'm glad that they let me go a week before school starts and just in time for every student to have already returned and taken the good jobs.

What is it with my family? We get the shaft. ALL the time. It's easier to understand when I am supposedly not doing what I should be. But when I am trying to be a good person, usually a break once and awhile alleviates my utter hatred for life.

I feel a huge middle finger flying high these next few days.
And I wish Mark would have just picked up his effing phone tonight.
Awesome.

Everything We Had.

I am anxious to start school and get this year over with. 20 credits + 6 credits online are probably going to be the death of me. But so worth it!

It's late. I should go to bed. And this song has been playing on repeat for at least an hour now, because I can never just sit here and write (I get distracted so easily). Plus, it's storming outside and the lightning is flashing through my window. I like falling asleep to the sound of pouring rain. Am I the only one who loves it when it rains?

My secret fear? I'm so messed up that nobody will ever be able to understand where I am coming from. And they'll get frustrated with me. And leave. And the whole time the only thing I'll ever have been trying to do was love them. How horrifyingly emo of me to admit.

Damaged, at best.

I just realized why it is so hard for me to keep a journal. It's because I don't really ever let myself feel how I feel, if that makes sense. I can be devastatingly sad, and I'll push it to the back and rationalize myself out of the feeling. Writing down acknowledges that it exists somewhere outside my mind. When it is sitting there in front of me on the page, I can't ignore it...or pretend it will go away if I just close my eyes for a minute.

I smell horribly of smoke. Because tonight I decided it was time. I got the binder out of my drawer and I pulled out the letters from their clear plastic pages. And I read alot of things I consider lies. And I took them over to the stove. And turned on the top burner. And burned each and every one of them. There were a lot. The house got filled with smoke. So I took it outside. And watched the flames.

See, even right now it is so hard for me to just sit here and discuss my feelings. I keep going on facebook and randomly clicking through pictures of people I don't even know. It is mindless. Because I get so scared to feel.

The truth is, it was really hard for me to burn that. It still hurts me deep inside somewhere that everything we had planned never worked out. I get upset that sometimes I still think about it and I shouldn't. And for some reason keeping that stupid binder of those letters made me have hope? I don't even know if hope is the right word.

I am so skeptical about it all.
But I am always the one who keeps it all together and never lets anything phase me. I think it's okay to be human once in a while.

Snails see the benefit/the beauty in every inch - The Format
This is perhaps the reason I rev my life up to 90 miles per hour. I never see the beauty in it all. And I never have to feel badly about it, after it has happened.

Fresh.

Fresh.

I am terrible at keeping a diary. And often lose touch with my blogs after a few weeks. I hope this one continues past all my abandoned attempts at writing down my life. Either way, today I am excited about it.

My sleeping habits are out of whack. I blame the drive back to Virginia. Upon arriving in BV, I felt like the summer was gone. That's probably true to some extent, seeing as I start classes in 2 weeks. I have thought about everything quite a bit, seeing as the drive from Jersey to VA is around 6 hours each way. And since I have been to Jersey and back 3 times in the past month, I have come to terms with my life thus far.

I tend to move, a lot. I can't ever seem to stay in one place very long. Mark said that I never seem to like it anywhere I am, and unfortunately he has a valid point. But I came to the conclusion that I kept moving for all the wrong reasons, and I need to stay somewhere for me. Moving from Idaho to NJ was the first time I actually uprooted and left for myself. So last summer I was on track. The move to Arizona of course was a mistake - a move never for myself and with motives completely displaced. The move here to Virginia from Arizona is turning out to be for me, but not in the way I wanted.

Ultimately, I don't like it here. It is very small. Much like a mini BYU-Idaho. So I went from one to the other with very little change besides a considerable downsize. I think for the most part I just feel small here. And I recognized that when I went home to NJ and didn't feel small. It's ironic because at the same time I feel very big. Because everybody looks at me like an oddity.

Perhaps I just keep looking for a place to belong, to call home. And if it's true - if home is where your heart is, it's no wonder I feel so lost. I've been looking for my heart recently for as long as I can remember.

I want somebody to know me. More importantly I want to know me. For the most part, the latter is coming along. Sometimes it just gets terribly exhausting living just for yourself.


Fresh. I like it.