Maybe I wasn’t meant for that diary filled with fantasies, a wedding, the whole dream of dreams. So I guess it’s good that I always failed to keep a consistent record of my life. Although uneventful to myself, when I talk to people about the journey thus far they always have wide eyes or wonder and sometimes doubt… that in 26 years I could have survived all that. Believe me, people much younger have survived much worse, I’m sure.
I sit with myself in my thoughts a lot at night and sometimes even when I’m bored at work and wonder where the fuck was I suppose to turn out that I made a wrong decision.. apparently, right here. I can’t help but wonder if this is the life I was meant to live everyday.. or if this is my wake up call to do something… and I truly am, I am trying to do something, even without the support of the ones I thought would be my biggest fans. I’ll make it, too, sit back and watch.
Relationships, have never been anything to me… I fall, I date, it’s usually over in a few years and I move on.. maybe it’s my lack of ever having a solid example of love in my life that didn’t end in a divorce or some bullshit relationship where we become comfortable in coexisting. I crave passionate emotions and fearless lust for deep love. I can’t love when someone doubts me all the time, I refuse to give my all to anyone who doesn’t even put half their heart into my hands. I’m selfish and that’s ok for that sake.
Sometimes I feel so alone that it takes a hug from my daughter to bring me back to reality. She makes me not alone. She makes life worth living, as well as the growing life within me.
People tell me untrue things about myself so many times that I begin to believe those things to be true. Even if they aren’t, you said it… they have to be true. I’m depressed most nights. But as a mother I’m too tired to care about my depression that sleep is my form of battle. A yawn is my battle cry. I’m exhausted, and defeated. I’m too bullheaded to admit it with a white flag but when I recluse, just know… you win.