a 2018 story

Okay so i know no one reads this.
Even those who misleadingly get directed here by dodgy ad's etc. (Don't worry that secret is safe with me)

2018 was the worst even though some part of her claimed it would be the best.

It started for her in hysterics and tears literally on the 1st of jan 18 she sobbed her heart out for what felt like days, weeks, months even years.

Then from there most of its a blur but not a good type of blur... a blur that's like a movie where the main villain landed in a pile of shit and they can't see because its all over their eyes.

Then came the dreaded month October.

Well at least she is pretty sure it was then...
Months prior to this had been the most disgusting.

One girl found out and unravelled too much for her tiny stupid brain to handle about the very people who brought her up.

Months upon months more and more had shown and to her friends they saw it as her putting her boyfriend upon a pedestal and he was the only thing on her mind.

Although that was not the case.

Her brain day in and day out thought of everything all at once.

Pushing her friends away all out of disgust for what if they thought of her differently.
Little did she know they already did.

She tried to see them, on one particular day she did watching them laughing and be carefree (even though deep down she knew that was not the case) she couldn't seem to but on a brave face or even shut up her brain.

She ran and hid excusing her presence not entirely giving them much to blame it on other than her and her boyfriend.

He was also in a struggle at the time this would later on after both suppressing it come back and bite them in the ass... but this is her story not theirs.

Now referring back to October after weeks of her watching social media indeed agreeing with her shitty brain for something it had been saying all along, she was not needed by nobody, there was nowhere she was wanted, nowhere to belong.

Her friends had decided the friendship was not what they wanted anymore, and it would no matter what always be wrong.

The more she slightly pushed, the further they went away.

She was useless, hopeless and now really lonely. The wise girls who said they was family did what was happening to hers the whole year.

There was a whole lot of tears.

Now she tried and tried to get them to see that maybe in the bottom of their hearts they wouldn't leave.

Cue more tears.

Now she is in 2019, seeing them in almost every dream.

Now she is in 2019, writing this very thing.

Yes... obviously, she is me.

And me is as pointless as can be.

the past few hours I've been on a high
no i haven't drunk or took drugs
just hearing the fact that you openly told people about me
although there was that voice who screamed
it's a lie...
"why would anyone like you"

i got distracted by the ten million other thoughts whizzing in my mind all at once
the feeling of I'm going to throw up
the moment of i cant eat
the moment of pure happiness
but how could that be
how did you manage to do that ?

i want to know
so I'm going to find out
how you may ask

i have changed
I'm now taking risks and doing things i would never ever ever wanted to imagine doing what is about to come

this moment is the rarest of them all
this moment is one i hope i will never forget
no matter what happens
no matter how things work out

however that mean voice of doubt is screaming
he only likes you of you're looks and you have none
you're the ugly girl that is used for practice

am i actually going through with this ?

- from my heart etched with your name

Silence, Silence, silence.
I give it to people, but I can never take it.

My ears ache for every single second I spend it alone.
The faint buzz, the faint ring of the feeling of loneliness ... with a slight hint of hope.

I fill the silence with music.
But the hole in my heart isn't filled for the silence pierces me.

My heart is punctured and your name is etched upon it,
As if you're Van Gogh signing his starry night sky.

My night stars that once were, burn out as you do and just remain a memory.

The difference between van gogh's work compared to yours
Is people gaze upon his pieces filled with curiosity, admiration as well as inspiration.
Unlike yours, filled with spite, rejection and distance.

Van gogh used a canvas ; you used my heart
He used paint and charcoal ; you used my time and left me in the silence.

I think too far ahead of myself, I know.
Every time I decide to work on this, I stop.
Purely because you break the silence.

I fall back in.
It's the cycle.
One I hate.
But I just don't know how to break.

 
- from my heart etched with your name

I'm a pen.

Think of me as a pen.

A pen that has lost its lid, as I have lost my mind.
A pen that no serves no purpose as I serve nothing in life.
A pen that is no longer needed or even chewed .
A pen that isn't important.
A pen that just can't be used.

Why am I a pen?

Well because, it just hit me.
Not a pen the thing that technically I felt a week back.
The realisation and the reality, that I'm not that important.
I'm not that important to people as I think I am.

It was so stupid of me to ever believe that I would cross anyone's mind during the day.
That it could place a smile upon their face.
I must apologise.

To myself of course...

For thinking that:
 'If I'm not important to myself I must be important to someone else'.

Why did I ever think that ?
Why was that ever a thing?

The hairs on my arms stood up and my ears were beginning to ring.
My face emotionless as warm salty tears slowly ran down my cheeks.
My body scrunched up as I sat in silence, visioning their fun constantly telling myself that I was never number one.

Why was I crying?
Why does it hurt ?
In the back of my mind I always knew this.
My heart was beginning to burn.

I'm a fool for thinking this.
A fool for doubting that it was true.
Just because people are important to me doesn't mean I'm important to them.
This is something I'm learning to come to terms with.

It's like removing the ink from a pen.
It is empty and most times transparent.

So therefore I am a pen.
A broken, useless pen.
Waiting for the day my ink is refilled again.

This Is Me.

Recently I have put a lot of thought into 'who I am'.
And no matter how hard I try, I never seem to find an answer.

Of course, at times I tried to answer this so much that I became so frustrated with the fact that ... I didn't know who I am.
And you're probably thinking, if you're blogging about it surely you've found who you are.

So, who am I ?

Well, I am me.
Yes that was an incredibly lame answer but, I don't have to define myself to know who I am.
Because in a way who you are is something you have you're whole
life to figure out.
And you're identity can change everyday.

So who I am at the moment, well for starters I am a girl, a girl who is trying to look at life from a different perspective, a girl trying to make her life better but re-evaluating it .


Because I've decided that I don't want to be the girl who always finds an excuse to be sad.
I won't let other people define me.
I won't let a stereotype define me.
Or the shitty past events of my life define me.

I will define me, and although that definition may change everyday.
Right now, this is me.

I am a careless, open minded, happy (at the moment) me.
Excepting that this is my change.