kelland

And maybe, giving up is not bad.
But part of letting go of you.

We cannot rewind to an afternoon mid-March when I didn't know you and you didn't know me. We can't rewrite the same letters or retell the same stories or laugh at the same jokes time and time and time again and again and again. Different places, different times. I have wasted so much time. I have told lies. I have come across in all of the wrong ways. When I drive home at night, I regret everything that I have become. I want to erase and take back and rewind and rewrite and everyotherfucking thing. I want to eliminate the stale. I want to feel better about these people and this occupation. I want to look forward to something again. I want to feel appreciated and desired. I want to be a completely clothed, subtle mystery to you. I want to be a stranger to you like you're a stranger to me. I only wanted to keep you guessing, but I already gave you all the answers.

Let me tell you right now that I have no idea why I let this happen. Why I let the shit hit the fan. I have no idea what I must've been expecting. I have no idea why I lead myself to my own heartache. And then I lounge around in it, and I snap and scuttle and bitch and moan and make excuses. I have no idea why I make myself miserable, or why in an instance my self-worth can be completely broken. I have no idea why I let 25-year-old burn-outs determine how I feel about my body and my personality and my integrity. I have no idea why I want to talk about it every opportunity that I get.

Let me bleed, please. Just let me have my moment.

I'm so tired of lying to myself about how I feel, so, right now I am going to be honest. I whore myself. I whore my kindness and my talents and my opinions and my voice. I try to be something I'm not. I try to be interesting and intriguing when I know that I am mediocre, just like everyone and everything I claim to hate. I am attracted to people that are worse off than myself so that I can be an asset to their life. But they don't ever want me. I am too dramatic for my own good. The only thing that ever makes me feel anything is music. I will never be gratified in life because I will always be unhappy with myself. Every night I go into work, I hate seeing Miah, I hate feeling the same pain jabbed in my face time and time again, and I purposely treat him like I'm angry or upset to convey some sort of message that goes, "Look what you did. Feel bad about it." I almost always feel like I don't have any true friends. I almost always feel like no one really cares. I almost always see examples that disprove both previous statements, but I tell myself I'm right anyway so that disappointment won't hurt as much. But it always does anyway. I am a pain in the ass, and I know it. I know that no one wants to read this shit and believe it, but believe it. I'm hollow and eighteen and nothing great or moral or diverse. I'm just a girl who, in her own mind, will never be good enough for anyone.