you should be stronger than me.
i wonder if it’s possible for me to pour my soul out into another being. other than my older sister, i don’t think there is a soul on the face of the earth that truly knows everything about me, everything i’ve been through, everything i want to accomplish-and i don’t think i am able to give all of that to any one else. i don’t think i want to. it feels good to rant, to drown in my sorrows and leave them lingering in their air behind me, moving on until i’m filled again and need to restart my cycle. but my solitude also keeps me grounded. the fact that no one will ever have more of me than i myself posess empowers me, strengthens me, comforts me. i want to be my own best friend, my own journal, my own secret vault that no password could ever unlock. if that’s wrong, then i must be insane. no, insanity would be too poetic. maybe i am just wrong. maybe i’m doing it all wrong, i’m living incorrectly, i’m dreaming far too big. but no one seems to be giving me the room to tell them. to tell them anything. to tell them everything. and so, no one proves my methods to be mad. and i sit here, wondering if things would have been different. if i had shared more, would i have been happier? if i had torn down every masochistic inhibition, would i have reached a point i though impossible? the thing about questioning the past is that you never get an answer, no matter how hard you try.
i’m currently in a horrible state of mind. my mother tortures me with her inability to understand anything i mean or say, i want or need, i seek or sought. but i don’t play the ‘i’m misunderstood’ card. that’s not what it’s about. it’s about the feeling that comes with my situation in life. i feel empty still, alone. and though finding out a lot about myself, i haven’t reached my ultimate point of self-fulfillment, where no one can ever destroy my unless i allow them to. and it’s a bit disappointing, i can’t lie. i wish how i felt mattered. i wish what i did mattered. i wish i controlled my life in some way. but i can’t. not yet. and it’s the worst problem to have when your mind wont stop churning with ideas and dreams and wishes. but hey, we all have to do it don’t we? in some way or another, i know every one is stifled. i’m just the one willing to complain about it.
