Why do people feel insecure about feeling happiness in other’s happiness? Genuinely being happy for someone else’s happiness is such an incredible feeling.
No one cares.
I think one of the all time suckiest feelings there is is feeling like the people you care the most about don’t give a damn about you. Feeling like no one cares is awful enough, but when you start pinning the feeling of others not caring on the people that mean the most to you is when it really feels like hell. You can really start to lose yourself that way. You start to feel overwhelmed by everything because you can’t get anything off our chest to the people you used to rely on. You feel like you’re suffocating yourself. And you are. That’s exactly what you’re doing. Maybe it’s not even them. Maybe it’s you. Maybe it’s all you. But it’s a hard feeling to shake. And once you’re there, you’re stuck. You’ve dug yourself into a hole so deep you can’t find a way out. Suddenly you forget how to breathe and everything you’ve ever known to be stable is spiraling out of control. And you just can’t deal with it. You don’t know how. You don’t know what’s wrong, but absolutely everything feels like it’s wrong. The littlest things tear you apart. You feel like you’re choking on life. And then it just gets worse. And worse. And worse. And then you don’t feel at all. You don’t feel anything. Absolutely nothing. You just don’t feel. Then maybe you start to get comfortable in your nothingness. And that’s when it hits you. That’s when it all crashes down on you. And there it is. Insignificance. Complete and utter insignificance. Because you’ve come to believe that you’re nothing because there’s no one there to tell you that you are. But maybe there are those people. But you can’t hear them over your own insignificance. And you’re too afraid to ask. So you’re buried six feet deep in fear and depression and agony and insignificance and who even knows. Who even knows? Because you don’t. Because you sure as hell don’t.
Most people think of New Year’s resolutions as means to change in some way, but for my 2014 New Year’s resolution I want to stay the same. I want to take the parts of me I personally like and keep them. Before now I’ve changed tremendously every single year, but this year I want to NOT change parts of myself. So here’s to staying the same.
Finals Week Anthem
My finals week anthem:
First you get a swimming pool full of coffee, then you dive in it. Pool full of coffee, then you dive in it.
This is what Christmas is to me.
In December of 2005, our family had a house fire that damaged almost everything we had ever owned. It destroyed our home. When we were finally allowed to go inside our own home(for limited periods of time as it was still uninhabitable), we got to see with our own eyes how everything we called ours had been destroyed by either the fire or the immense smoke damage. Almost every inch of our house was some shade of grey or black. Almost every inch, except for one corner. Somehow through all the damage, one corner in our living room remained perfectly untouched: our Christmas tree. Through all the damage and destruction of the fire, our Christmas tree stood up perfectly somehow untouched by all the chaos around it, with all the presents still fully intact. So if you ever try and tell me that I’m silly or childish for loving Christmas and believing that it truly is magical, remember this: Christmas is a sign of hope to me, and everything about it most definitely, absolutely magical.
You came into my life like a disease of the mind. You high-jacked my every thought, but I’m taking the vaccine. Peacing you out like a virus.
And now that my Thanksgiving break is almost over, I can officially say: CHRISTMAS CHRISTMAS CHRISTMAS CHRISTMAS CHRISTMAS CHRISTMAS CHRISTMAS CHRISTMAS CHRISTMAS CHRISTMAS CHRISTMAS CHRISTMAS IS COMING!!!!!!
You hurt me…
You hurt me every time you disregard what I say to you. Every time you leave alone all the comfort I try to give you. You constantly complain about not being understood or not being liked or not feeling like you’re good enough, and I tell you that I understand, that I love you, and that for me you’re so much more than good enough, and that you make me so proud. I tell you how amazing I think you are for being you and how strong I believe you are. AND YOU UTTERLY DISREGARD IT BECAUSE I MEAN NOTHING TO YOU. BECAUSE MY WORDS AREN’T GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU. Do you ever consider how that might make me feel? Do you ever consider that maybe that hurts me?
Do you not even realize that you make me feel the way that everyone else makes you feel?
Do you even care?
The problem is never how I feel, but the conscious awareness of knowing that I feel it.
There’s no denying it.
I’ve had the biggest crush on Mike Shinoda for the last eight years or so. I’m pretty sure it’s never going away. There’s no denying it.
Yeah. there is still no denying it. It’s never going to go away.
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Maybe one day I’ll actually finish writing this…
So this is a story that I don’t know where I’m going with or where/when I started really, but I’m writing it in a magical place known as my phone…so yeah…quality writing at it’s best…
I’ve decided to call it “Hopeless”, but that’s subject to change…like anything and everything else in life…
Anyway, it’s not even close to anything near my best writing. Rather, it’s my simple writing just to tell a story.
And yeah, I just added the last paragraph tonight, so here it is so far:
Maybe one day even I could be good enough. Maybe there was a possibility for a fool like me. That’s what I’ve always told myself. That’s what I’ll probably keep telling myself.
You’re smart, you’re beautiful, you’re funny, you’re passionate, you’ve got so much going for you! That’s what everyone else has always told me. Everyone except for anyone who it would actually matter to hear those words from.
So that was the story of my life. I’m the girl with the potential. According to everyone else I had so much potential. The problem with potential is that it doesn’t do you any good if you can’t harvest any of it. And all I had was potential with no clue of how to convert it to kinetic.
Here’s a secret no one knew: I am in fact the biggest romantic I know. Stunning? I know. All my life I’ve put forth this exterior of nonchalance and even a bit o distaste towards anything that involved “feelings”. I only expressed my general hatred towards most things in the world, my bearable tolerance towards some of my acquaintances, and my adoration (now I’d say love of my friends, but my main point right now is to say that love is not something I positively respond to in my façade. I do in fact love my friends though, but that’s a different kind of love) of my friends.
However I may come off as, the fact was, my heart melts quicker than butter at the slightest bit of affection. All I have ever wanted for as long as I can remeber is absolutely every small detail of every romcom ever to be somehow incorporated in my life. Is that really so much to ask for? Can I not have my Ashton Kutcher carrots or Will Ferrel bags of flour because I don’t want flowers? Can I not be Emma Stone in Easy A as she gets every romantic movie end that she’s dreamed of having? Can I not have my Breakfast Club air fist pump because a guy got me? Is a little thoughtful wake up text really too much to ask for? Taylor Swift got her giant teddy bear in Valentine’s Day despite being one of the most obnoxious characters in history, so where is my giant teddy bear?
If you can make me smile, you can have my friendship. If you can make me laugh, you can have my love.
Reblog this post and I’ll check out your blog. Most likely in depth. And you’ll get tons of notifications from my likes and reblogs. And potentially a follow.
I’m a romantic at heart. Lol jk, I’d need a heart for that.
One of my biggest regrets is going to Kentucky and not having any fried chicken while I was there.