Sometimes I feel myself start to cry, just sitting there, staring at nothing in particular. It's like I'm walking through crowds and sitting at coffee shops, waving to a friend, looking at a cute guy, but no one sees me. They just walk past, continuing their day without giving me a thought. I used to read everyday, I was never bored, I always found things to do. I stopped reading, I stopped writing, I havent really given a fuck about the garden outside and about the vegetables I was suppossed to be growing a few seasons ago. I guess it was a void I was filling and then I found the love of my life and I guess he filled that void, but that was the biggest fuck up of my life. It really takes a person of great persuasion to make you feel like you have no say in getting slapped across the face or getting beaten with a shoe with your arms pinned. It must take a lot to make a person feel so worthless that they would eat the shit from the bottom of a shoe just when asked. You don't even need to press a knife to their throat or anything, you just tell them "eat the shit from the bottom of that shoe" and they abide, crying, but still choose to do so. To make somebody feel so worthless, that they're not good for anything except one day every two weeks when their paycheck comes, takes a great person. To be able to rape someone then walk away and just shrug when confronted is astounding, but it takes a person with greater persona to be able to rape someone, walk away, shrug, and still own that person like a table or a chair. I never felt like a girlfriend, I felt like property, but I stayed. I don't like telling people that, especially my friends EVERYTHING he did to me, because I'M the one that stayed with that punishment for 2 years, that makes me look weak. I was weak, I turned into a blubbering, love-sick puppy with zero self-worth. I honestly thought I couldn't do any better than a guy that cheated on me, hit me, and used me every chance he got. But I can write that here because no one reads this blog.
But that was ages ago, but I still think about it. Just as I do with a lot of things. Ever since I was little I always read that traumatic experiences are shoved back in our mind like they didnt happen until something triggers the memories. I've always waited patiently for my bad memories to be shoved in the back of my mind, the dreams of a dead friend the day after he died, my ex, Lailah. I'm still waiting. I feel like I'm falling through space sometimes. I'm sitting in this chair but time is ticking my life away and I have nothing to show for it. I've aged 21 years and all I have are what ifs and bad memories. I strive to be happy, I strive to run away but I never walk out that door, bag in hand. What I crave to run from is all in my head, I can't run away from myself, it will always be with me. I think.... maybe if I sit still they won't see me. It's the only time I have peave anymore. When I'm just sitting or laying down, staring at nothing in particular, feeling myself almost start to cry, I don't know why though, they just come like my eyes remember something I don't. Everything is a reminder of something bad to me. Every face reminds me of another. I'm still waiting.
Maybe I don't really read anymore to escape into solace because it's pointless, just staring at the cover and how many pages there are, most likely an average of about 300 pages, is defeating. I'll finish it in what... 2 days, 3, 4? Even then I'll have to put the book down sometime to use the bathroom or do something for a friend or go to school when I think of memories or see something or someone that reminds me of something or someone else that I wish so badly my mind would realize I don't want to remember anymore and shove it in the back of my mind where it will collect dust and I won't just sit here and cry mystery tears and then see something that triggers a thought I don't want to think of. Every book ends. It's so self-defeating. So many things in life are logically pointless but when we're happy we don't think about logic we just do what makes us happy and find happiness in those very illogical, pointless acts or things. Where did my happiness go, where did that go exactly? I would like to know. No one reads this blog, no one sees me as I'm walking past anyway. So pointless, this blog. But I guess it fills a void I have. I still find tears in my eyes, just sitting here, being swallowed by time and space, hearing life tick tock by. Still waiting.