Trapped In Wonderland

The different ways we deal with pain are fathomless and boundless. 

I don’t know if I am becoming better, focussing on what’s important in life, or just trying to distract myself from loving you more, I mean I have no idea. 

Singular stars stippled densely over the vast skies of this lonely night in Manchester, the hustle and bustle of the populous attraction points weren’t really my thing, done it, seen it, so there’s no point. Committing to this same routine every night drains me of the sentimentality; but that’s all I have left of myself, and I don’t wanna lose it, it’s a comfort thing, all I’ve ever known. From a personal point of view, there’s something truly enchanting and sophisticated about emptiness, a theory of essentially nothing. Choosing emptiness over depression and his little relics is something I would do any day, just to slip away from the pain.

  I know you won’t check this for a very long time, so now is a good time for me to get some feelings and thoughts out in the open.

  It’s easy. I’ll put it like this: I never want to go back there, but you made me love it somehow. I remember. I remember. When we were kids and you were spinning me in the field next to our little school and you said, “how long until we leave?”. I replied, “we?”.  

I still think back on us. Months later. Almost 6 months to be exact since we last spoke or saw each other. I still think of everything.

You can't quiet a racing mind, filled with all the most hurrendous of thoughts. 

It didn’t dawn on me until I laid down an hour ago. I had distracted myself all day but deep in the pit of my stomach, I knew something was off. I shrugged it off though and I laughed and danced around, happy as a bird in the spring. But then I laid down to sleep and that notification went off…

- You see me and you think I’m dark, bold, secretive and harsh because I wear black and I keep to myself and I study everything, all of the time. But you don’t know that I’m just waiting for the right people to set me free from the gravity I’ve placed on myself. That my favorite color is yellow because it makes me feel light and warm and free. 

Sometimes I wonder if the memories of us will ever stop haunting me, like neverending whispers of a previous life. A life filled with happiness and peace and love. Or maybe I'm just remembering it all wrong. Maybe the happiness I'm remembering is construed and twisted. Maybe that happiness is the way my life was before I met you.

Let's give in and be together. But if we have gone backwards, before everything, that would mean I'm gonna fall for you all over again, right? Technically? Even though I already love you. I don't mind that. I just hope I don't shatter like I did before. 

I'm broken, something inside of me is broken. I can't love. The thought of love forms a pit in my stomach. The fear of being in a relationship is there and ever present. I hurt people, and I don't want to hurt anyone else. 

Been going through a lot lately. Have had a lot of ups and downs. Through the breakup of a 6 year relationship, lose of friends, bad family news, and general mental health issues - I was feeling really down. But on the bright side, I'm going back to school for my GED and then to become a guard at the prison. I'm going to hopefully get my license back soon as well and get a vehicle of my own. Been working out and doing a lot of self care. My mental health is better and I'm happier than I've been in a long time. Don't get me wrong, I still have my downs but they aren't like they used to be. I'm not suicidal anymore. I've got an amazing support group of my God like case workers and a few close friends. I've learned to not let people walk over me and treat me like shit. I've learned to not be or tolerate being manipulated or lied to and used.

I'm done with never being good enough. I'm done with getting hurt. I'm done with seeing everyone falling in love happily, but me. I'm done with feeling like the worst. I'm done with crying myself to sleep. I'm done with faking a smile. I'm done with being strong. I'm done with being the ugly friend. I'm done with your mixed signals. I'm done with being good enough to fuck, but not good enough for a relationship. I'm done with falling in love so easily. I'm done with this sadness. I'm done with getting ignored. I'm done with being me. I'm done with this life.  I mean all of this, but I still know nothing will ever change. 

Everyone always says that I'm beautiful or intelligent. Or the many variations of those words. But because of my upbringing, I don't see those things. I see a very damaged, broken, depressed, hideous monster. And I don't say that to get compliments. I say that because that's my truth. I just want you to understand, so here's some of my checkered past.

Clawing at the air, Grasping only nothing. Screaming to the night, Wondering why you're gone. Now you're just an angel, Flying in the sky. Watching me from up above, As I mourn over you.

You and I are in the kitchen. It’s storming outside. We watch the snow come down so hard that it blankets everything in seconds. The reflection of the indoor light off the snow is beautiful, sparkly. We are making cinnamon rolls in our underwear, fuzzy socks, and oversized sweaters. We dance to music only we can hear and kiss. But somehow that isn't enough. We sway in the moonlight after we shut the lights off. Wait on the timer to go off. We were supposed to make frosting but instead we're making out. Your hands wrapped around me. Why can't it go back to that? How I would give anything to relive that moment or experience it all over again for the first time.

We spoke endlessly about everything and nothing. Now, I cannot even remember the sound of your voice. The outside air shivered in visible vapors of exhales with the end of february chill. A crescent moon waning and distant, eclipsing mars shadows of maroon left over. A glimpse of spirits emboldened, blur into orion’s belt, held up scintillating a message to betelguese, an apparition of a missing heart becoming an illusion  becoming a flyaway thought

I wish it could be just like always, when we laughed and talked and you smiled at what I said. I wish it can be just like always, cause that's what it should be. I wish you were with me.

Here we are, eyes glued to the ground. You sniffle sadly, trying to force a smile. Maybe we can be friends instead. Sure, maybe I reply halfheartedly, but can anything replace love once it’s dead? They say only the hurt would hurt, in turn, the ones they love but I was not so hurt that I could not see that which I inflicted - I did it anyway. It is only in the hurt that we feel at home. We are wounded children, unloved and unloving. I pray I can someday unlove you.