I haven’t written here in a long time. Not for lack of inspiration or anything. More like general laziness. I can’t say that’s all going to change because that would probably be a lie. Strike that it would be a lie.
I don’t want to turn this into some sort of “Dear Diary” thing. If I really wanted that kind of confessional I’d become Catholic or actually use the damn journal I have. No, what I think I will do is…okay so I don’t have a legitimate plan. Heartbreaking, I know. For right now the best I can come up with is a stream of consciousness rant that is slightly different from a frilly diary; it’s just a hop, skip, and a jump away from a diary but I think it’s the hop that makes it important.
I’m in one of my melancholy moods. No trigger that I can put my finger on (Wow I just realized how bad of a pun that was, and completely unintentional too). I mean school is boring. I’ve pretty much mentally checked-out already. As far as school is concerned my junior year is almost over. I don’t feel particularly inclined to savor it either. Yet, what I do want to savor are my senior friends. It always seems that I meet the best ones before they graduate. And then I feel this HUGE loss because I just met them and never got a chance to really know them when I could have had three more years with them. Lost opportunities and such.
What’s really got me down is my relationship or lack thereof to me more specific. See, I pretty much gave my heart away a while back. It was a terribly stupid thing to do since he was…oh there are so many good adjectives to describe him. Uncaring. Cocky. Selfish. Rude. Horrible. Wandering. And so much more. Point is it was a mistake. I read somewhere that teenagers fall in love, really in love, for the first time when they’re seventeen or eighteen. Well ring-a-ding-ding I just pulled that pile of crap from the Cracker Jack box. What I’m afraid of is that what I had with this guy was love, because that’s what my idiotic heart keeps telling me. And I had all these happy notions of love. Notions he decided to put his cigarette out in. I see him on rare occasions in the halls and it hurts. I don’t handle pain well.
So I keep dwelling on all of this. The pain, the heartache, the loss, and it just overwhelms me. It keeps building on itself and I just let it. Add a dash of self-loathing for the lot of it, and PRESTO, insta-melancholy mood. Yum.
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2 comments:
Heya! It's Claire. I miss you.
Don't let your happy notions of love turn sour and jaded because of one jerk. Or three, or nine. When the good guy does come along, it's awful to be paranoid and insecure about his intentions. True story.
I can relate to an extent. Recently, I was told I crossed "the line". Since it wasn't intentional, I'll be second guessing myself from now on.
I'm trying to remember how to let go of someone completely, whilest not closing any doors or windows. It's a very difficult thing for me to do, but it's very, VERY possible.
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