Nothing to Say

For the first time in a long while, I am alone.

Alone in a deep well of what feels like nothingness, but I know there’s more to it because when other people surrounded me, there were things here. I know there are things here now—they couldn’t have just disappeared with those people who I let leave. Some who I wanted to go; others, very few, who I didn’t. The lights are only off, and I know that all I have to do to obtain an object of desire is reach out and grab it. But the object is not the same; there is no light to shine on its beauty. I do not know what it looks like in detail anymore; I only know that it exists. That it had existed before in my life and that it must be there now, but there is no light.

I used to know people, people who said that I made them happy. And I would wonder to myself incredulously, thinking how it was possible that I could do that—me with my small ideas, my small voice, my small everything. Yet, they kept saying the words like I’d saved them from something horrible. I was happy for them; happy to help them; happy that I, as one little girl, could be something. I was happy because they made me that way. But I’ve realized something; you can’t let your happiness be based off another person, because at one point or another, that person always leaves you. Sometimes on purpose, sometimes on accident; it happens, and your heart breaks. Over and over it does, leaving a wound that no one can fix but you, and even then it can never be completely healed. A scar stands there on your once thriving, living heart. It’s now lost a little color, grown slightly colder. If you’re not careful, you can wake up one morning and find that it’s completely black, or someone else will point it out to you. But what is there to be done? Your soul has been broken by many; many who may not even realize how much you’ve been through yet break you anyway simply because they can.

I catch myself wondering why the world is so cruel. Why—in times of so much peril and distress—that people can only seem to find fault with one another. Until I realize that I’m one of them. It disgusts me; I disgust me. I probably disgust them, too. It’s probably the reason why they’ve left. Why they’ve left to be with others better than me…

I hold only myself accountable for the loss. But I’m not sure that I can say that I’m happy. I don’t know what I am anymore—lost in a state of insensibility? Maybe I can’t say because I don’t know who I am anymore. I’ve lost my identity, in a sense—lost who I am and was. Maybe that’s a good thing—I’m stronger now. I can stick up for myself a little more than I could when I could feel.

I want to feel again—be the passionate creature I used to be. Laugh at anything I thought remotely funny, even though no one else believed it to be that way. Cry with those who were struggling, even if I had only just met them. Love all those I held close to my heart without regret. Smile to myself at the memories of simpler days.

I want to be the person who didn’t regret feeling with all her heart.

For the first time in a very, long while…I am alone.

Very alone.

Humanity

I'm sick of people; sick of the way they lie to me, sick of the way they go about their strange ways. I'm sick of how they treat me; like I'm just some small doll there for show. I'm sick of people.
I'm sick of the way they morbidly lie to themselves and others, sick of the way they pretend they know everything when they don't. I'm sick of how they flaunt their talents around like those are something that they alone own. I'm sick of them and their dirty, filthy ways.
I am sick of people.
Sick of my own kind.

I'd like to think I'm one of those people where if I say 'I promise' I go through with whatever I promised to do. And if I know that I cannot accomplish what someone wants, then I do not say the words. I will not--it is against who I am. This is where I stand.
So you can imagine how upsetting it must be when someone promises me something and does not come about with their end. Of course, I'm not one to explode in someone's face, either--unless absolutely necessary. But when a promise is not kept, I feel as though I was not important or special enough to be remembered. That I was not someone's priority for a small time. Isn't that an offensive thought in itself? When someone says they will put time towards you and never does? It's almost worse than a slap in the face, is it not?
Now, what about those tacit promises? The ones that come along with friendship?
Those shouldn't be too difficult to keep, yet I see them broken all the time. Best friends come before new acquaintances. It's known fact--yes, fact. So when a friend gets distracted, how must the other feel...
How horrible it must be to walk the world alone for a time, all because your comrade is staring off into a light you once warned would come. You come to learn what the term 'hidden pain' really means.
I don't understand why we're so heartless as human beings. Our hearts wax colder each day, and no one even seems to mind.
Well, I mind. I care whether my heart dies along with all the others. I refuse to let it do so--I will struggle to keep it beating colors while everyone else only bleeds gray.
I can't stand these people that surround me every day. I can't stand the way they look at me, at other people. I can't stand the way that they talk.
But I can't live without them.

My 'Adult' Life

It's sad that I haven't written one of these yet! I've been an 'official adult' for over 3 months now and I've given no updates as to what it's like...
Not that it's any different of course. I'm still stuck in that horrible preppy high school of mine where school pride seems to be the main focus of everything, although I won't be there much longer and that thought in itself makes me ecstatic. I don't feel any older than normal; I guess it's that whole having to mature earlier than everyone else my age. I don't mind it though. I'm glad I only went through a year or so of actual teenage years; if I had to go through any more I'm sure I would have driven myself, and possibly others, to insanity.
I'm getting off topic.
What's it like being an adult?
I get to graduate. I think that's the major event at the moment--the one I'm most excited for, anyways. I'm not even going to the actual graduation ceremony, though. I do have good reason; I don't want to. It's a waste of my time, of my parent's money and I'd rather not go sit through hours of names just to receive a fake paper reminding me to return my cap and gown only to later receive my true diploma that will constantly remind me of the years I suffered through in high school. No, thank you. I'm perfectly fine staying home, laying on my couch writing what I would have imagined graduation to be like.
I don't feel cheated in any way. In fact I feel relieved. I don't have to be surrounded by thousands of people. That in itself was reason enough not to go.
Kids at that strange, overly happy high school of mine think I'm crazy for not going. They're finally figuring out that I'm not as social as they thought I was. I do feel the slightest hint of guilt, but it doesn't matter anymore. They leave me alone now and it makes me happy.
What else is there to being an adult?
I guess you could say I'm at that point in life where I'm not dating anyone and I'm not looking to, while at the same time no one is looking to date me. It's that 'awkward stage' I've always heard people talk about but never understood for myself. Well, now I do and I am enjoying every second of being little single me. No one bothers me, not one poor soul. I could throw my own celebration from the joy I feel--alright, maybe not that far, but seriously, I am happy I don't have to deal with the boy drama other girls cause for themselves. I'm glad I'm not stupid. No offense to anyone who reads this and may be experiencing trouble themselves; maybe I just don't understand your situation and for that I apologize.
Hopefully I don't get married too soon though. Everyone seems to be saying I will, but I will try as hard as I can to make sure that doesn't happen. I need to make sure I can finish college and be prepared first. My goal is to wait until I'm at least 23. Everyone nowadays here is getting married when they're 20! How insane are they? I'm not even going to answer that.
I get to start college in the fall. I'm so happy I get to be with older people I can't even begin to explain. I'm not sure how well I'll get along with them, considering the fact that I don't really talk much and I'm younger than them--being a freshman--but we'll see how it goes. I will be attending Westminster. I remember wanting to go there ever since Dad took me there when he went there for nursing school forever ago. It seems almost impossible that I'm going there now, too, with almost all my tuition paid off already with scholarships and grants. And into music, of all things. I never would've thought when I was going to Dad's nursing classes with him that music is what I would be going to Westminster for. But that's what I love and it's what I'm going to be happy doing.

I still have to say, though, that I don't feel any different. As my life goes on, I just move along with it. 'Go with the flow', right?