Now you’re just somebody that I used to know.

// 2AM rant after crying for no reason whatsoever, which embarrassed me in front of myself. This is me.//

I’ve always felt different.

Maybe it’s because I made myself that way, I grew into what I expected myself to be. But who does that? Most people don’t, at least I don’t think so. 

Constant turmoil in my head I’ve learned to ignore… For the most part, anyway.

But then I’ll be talking to dad and he’ll say something. Something that sounds ridiculous and my first thought is that it’s absolutely not true, not at all, and then I somehow find myself crying.

Crying.  I never cry.   Which brings me to one of the things he pointed out most recently…

I am so afraid of failure.  And sometimes, maybe I un-succeed just so I can avoid the expectations that come with that new success. Because I’m afraid that I won’t be able to accomplish them.  And I have to. I have to be able to do everything that people expect me to, because that’s who I am.  I’m good at things.  I always have been, and when I’m not I can’t handle it very well.  I quit. I’m not a very hard worker, I don’t know how to work hard.  I find the things that I’m inherently good at (which is a rather large amount of things) and I do them while I amaze people.  And then, because I don’t really work at it, I plateau.  And people expect me to grow, and I don’t, and they push.  Because they know, they’re so sure that I can do more.  And that’s when I quit.

I don’t quit often. Life’s course of events usually does that for me.  But I quit piano, and that was something I really loved.  Because I knew that it was getting close to the point where I was supposed to just want to play and practice all the time, and people would all want me to play for them and knock their socks off, and I just couldn’t.  It was too much work.  That’s exactly why I quit dance.

I was talking to Michelle and she asked me who my friends even are anymore. I don’t have a clue.  My closest friends are people I hardly get to see, and I’ve realized that I don’t prioritize them enough.  I put school first because it’s safe.  I know if I study hard, I’ll do well on the test.  I know that if I decide to skip my homework, I’ll lose points.  When I’m with people, I don’t know what they’ll do.  I don’t know if they’ll think I’m being funny or just weird, or if I’m saying the wrong thing at the wrong time or if they really don’t like me all that much and are just spending time with me because they used to like me before they realized how much I just don’t fit in with them. 

Jillian told me she’s always known I was smart.  I immediately looked down and told her that that made me really, really uncomfortable.  She told me she knew because I’m “a very nervous person.”  Which I didn’t understand.  She started by telling me about how she’s the smartest person in her family, about how her mind just doesn’t work the same way that theirs do.  And she can tell when they have conversations, just like they can.  After she went to college and came into her own, she could tell even more.  Because she wasn’t hiding it anymore. 

I’m nervous around a lot of people because I’m evaluating, trying to figure out who they want me to be.  What the best character choice is for the situation, and if I should be happy, or relaxed, or laugh a lot, or philosophical.  I feel like my life is a play and I was thrown on stage, but nobody gave me the story ahead of time.  So I have to figure out who everyone else expects me to be as I go. 

I’m not very good at improv.

Sometimes I wish I could make all these thoughts disappear, and I always wonder if most people ever feel like this.  It seems like it’s just me, like I’m the only one who feels so lost and out of place.  It’s so easy to pretend that you’re happy.  It’s so hard to figure out how to make it real.

I don’t ever really want to forget all of this though, because it’s what makes me who I am.  And I know that someday, I’ll find someone who understands.  I don’t know how long it will take, but I’m waiting.

Until then, I guess I’m on my own.

// I miss him.//

I wish there were a way to tell him that. I mean, really tell him.

Whenever anyone asks if I’ve ever been in love, the memories from when I was with him come flooding back.

I hate the way life happens sometimes. I hate how I can’t be with him.  I hate it.

I hate the way that I feel whenever we get off the phone - dreamy, blissful, and happier than I could ever be without him.

I hate the fact that I cling to that rock I picked up the last time we saw each other, and that every time I go back into that hallway I remember the way he kissed the top of my head, and my heart collapses.

I hate the idea that I don’t quite remember how he smells anymore.

I hate the thought that the next time we see each other will be almost two years since the last time we’ve seen each other.

I hate the fact that I’m counting down the days, while I’m sure he isn’t even thinking about it.

I hate the fact that every time anyone hugs me, I compare them to his.  No one has ever won, and I don’t think anyone ever will.

I hate the fact that it doesn’t even make sense. Not any of it.  It doesn’t make any sense at all that I would love him so much… But I do.

I really hate the question that lingers in the back of my mind… When we do meet again, will it be the same? Will we still have that connection we always did? Will it be as amazing as I’ve been imagining it to be for more than a year?

// Cross the line if you want someone to know that they are good enough, always, despite what they think.//

(Source: crosstheline)