What do you do with days that trips fall back together, his words come back – for a moment any how, someone tells you kind things about who they think you are. Why is it that when someone tells me how pretty they think I am, I feel saddened that I am not beautiful. When someone tells me what a good person I am, I feel like I have only failed to be great. When someone tells me what a wonderful friend I am, I feel like I must not be doing something right if they just thought this, just now – what were they thinking before? When someone tells me how funny I am, I wonder what it is they think is funny and are they laughing at me, instead of with me. How, and more importantly, why does my mind do this… Why does it find the things that others aren’t telling me, because my mind just knows that’s what they must be thinking. What kind of broken brain finds a way to flush out the words that were spoken, without request, to find thoughts that weren’t presented.
I find it exhausting and I hate it. And some how I don’t hate it for me. I hate it because I fear my brain will cause exhaustion in others and I will feel guilty for just… being. It’s hard, much harder than I choose to admit. It should make me feel sad but some how, in this broken brain, it makes me feel…nothing.
Some randoms that are spinning:
When I poor candy out of the bag, I color coordinate. I don’t have to eat only the same colors at the same time, but they have to go in at the same time, having come from separate piles. WTF is that about?!
I can’t wait to move to Chicago
I can’t wait to move, because I hate this place I work and sleep in. I don’t live here because I am shut off to making too much of a life here, for fear I will never be able to get away. I can’t wait to move and somehow that has made me see all new potential in the life I am not living here… WTF is that about?!
(As I eat a green M&M and a red M&M…from their individual piles that lay on my desk)
I love basketball. I love watching basketball. I love talking about basketball. I love reading about basketball. I love everything about the greatest game ever invented. I hate, I repeat, HATE watching basketball with other people. I love to hear other people talk about basketball but hate hearing nothing but statistics and money and trades and rumors… I like hearing people talk about the beauty that basketball can bring to lives of people who simply watch it from home. I love being around people (to an extent) and hate watching basketball with them. WTF is that about?!
I tried my new coffee creamer today. It’s vanilla latte. I bought it because I LOVE vanilla lattes more than I love children (thank god I don’t have any or that would be inappropriate) and because I am a child. They made the package pretty, and sheik looking so I had to buy it. They put things in pretty packages because people like me buy it. I don’t care WTF that’s about. It makes me happy.
I love snow. I can’t wait to live in a place where snow is guaranteed all the time. I am 26 years old and for every year that I can remember, all I wanted was a white Christmas. The people that I talk to that live with white Christmas’ constantly tell me how much I am going to hate the snow. I don’t care WTF that’s about because I know the day I hate snow is the day something else, more magical, has to happen in my life and that’s exciting.
Ramblings, just ramblings, I can’t seem to quiet my mind.
Some days I feel my constant thoughts will deteriorate my spine.
The smiles and laughter filling the air make me feel alive.
The sadness filling my rambling thoughts turn my alive to tired.
The madness that runs throughout my veins makes me who I am.
The love beating the walls of my heart helps me understand.
Many things in life I can’t explain, I try but never prevail.
The darkened lovely things inside my mind are what set words a sail.
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