Picturesque 

“if i had to choose between breathing or loving you, i would say ‘i love you’ with my last breath”
―Shannon Dermott

I’m always burning the midnight oil these days. It looks like my insomnia is sticking around for awhile.

As of two days ago, I’m officially 21. My birthday was not the train wreck that I had thought it would be. My birthday this year may have been the best one yet. I got to get drunk on the beach as I had planned and fell asleep and woke up next to the guy that I love. I’m still very much in love with Batman. We still have no label for our quasi pseudo-relationship. I have to admit that Batman had a valid point today when we discussed us. Why are we happier together when we’re not together? Why does calling what we have a relationship somehow makes things more stressful and serious?

I had fun on my birthday. I want to remember it forever. I wish I could take a mental snapshot that would never fade or age with time. I couldn’t have loved him more on that day. I was happy on my birthday and. . . .  I don’t think I can describe or Batman could understand how big a deal that is. He made that happen. He turned what used to be a day of disappointments and unhappiness into a day of celebration and joy. Batman may not slay all my demons but sometimes he does a damn good job of slaying the few that he can get his hands on.

Explaining my depression to my mother: A conversation

This was my trigger. It hit home, left me breathless. I’d like to point out some of my favorite lines in this poem by Sabrina Benaim. Here’s a link to the full video.

“Anxiety is the cousin visiting from out of town that depression felt obligated to invite to the party
Mom, I am the party, only I’m a party I don’t want to be at”

 

“Insomnia has this romantic way of making the moon feel like perfect company
Mom says try counting sheep
But my mind can only count reasons to stay awake”

 

“Mom says happy is a decision
But my happy is as hollow as a pin pricked egg
My happy is a high fever that will break”

Demons.

“The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven..”
―John Milton

I think it should be said. I was half in love with Superman.

My heart hurts. My mind is racing. There’s a war being waged.

I try so hard to be good, to be nice. To be wanted. But in the end, who am I hurting? Myself. My inner child never received closure. She will never go away. She will always be lurking at the back of my mind, waiting for her rescuer, her Prince Charming, her father that was never there, her grandfather that abandoned her when she needed him the most.

I tire of hurting, tire of being at conflict with myself. Who sees the real me? No one. Because who could want someone so broken, so insecure, so unstable, so unreliable, selfish, self-centered, untrustworthy. Not the father that wasn’t there nor the grandfather that left or the mother who kept her love just out of reach.

I don’t know what to write. I don’t want to write.

I can never shut off my mind and like a vulture circling for prey, it always comes back to me. An easy meal, no doubt. Why is it that our mind always wander to the past at late night hours when everyone else is asleep? Why does it dredge up what hurts us the most, what we want to think about the least?

My 21st birthday is less than 24 hours away.

I’m scared. I can’t see this ending well.

I’m no good at “moving on”, “getting over” people, or “forgive and forget”. I don’t think I could ever forget Batman or Superman. I’m not sure what the existent of my relationship will be with Batman after my birthday celebration has ended. I can’t get over him with him in my life but not having him in my life hurts too much. We can’t get back together because we’ve tried to make it work, multiple times. I just get hurt more and more each time.

I miss my grandfather. I have a unhealthy and complicated relationship with my older brother and my dad was absent for most of my childhood. Safe to say, I don’t have a good relationship with any male in my life. I guess that’s bled into my sex life as well.

I always thought that some Prince Charming would come riding along on his white horse to rescue me from my demons. I thought that he was Batman. It turns out that Batman just kept them at bay, like a talisman. They’ve been waiting, waiting to consume, overwhelm, and devour.

Some part of me realizes that I’m unwell. That I’ve never quite managed to cope with my abuse. That I use this blog and my relationships to self-medicate. That’s the rational side that’s been losing ground more and more of late. I need to get help before I enter into any future relationships. I know that. But this. . . . need to be like everyone else, to not draw attention, cause conflict, or make a scene will overwhelm and convince me to not seek help.

How do you get over that? How do you get over being. . . . abused and betrayed by someone you trusted and looked up to as a father? How does that not influence your relationship  with every male that cross your path? It does. I flinch when Batman raise his voice, panic when he shows any sign of being displeased with me, and seek his advice and instruction often. He often calls me a child and the truth is,  I am. I am still a child. A part of me never grew up, its still stuck in the past reliving that hell. It’s still bitter with its mother and yet craves her acceptance and love. It still hungers for a positive male influence in its life. It still waits to be rescued. It is still in hell being tormented by it’s demons.

“Hell is empty and all the devils are here.”
― William Shakespeare

Dream Deferred

“What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore–”

― Langston Hughes

My grandmother likes to clean. A lot. We had just gotten through throwing out some old stuff and I came across some old college acceptance letters. I couldn’t help but feel nostalgic. I had so many hopes and dreams my senior year of high school, half of which didn’t come to fruition.

A lot of people look back to the past to see how far they’ve come. It has such a positive connotation. Me? I can’t help but look back and see how I’ve changed, both for the best and worst. I feel like I’ve lost my drive. I graduated high school with a 3.1 GPA. I finished my freshman year with a 3.7 GPA. This semester I just finished up? My semester GPA was a 1.8. My cumulative GPA is now a 2.4. The bright side is that I still have two more years to bring my cumulative GPA up. But. . . the truth of the matter is that I’ve lost focus on school and maybe my passion for what I’m going to school for.

I can’t help but miss that naïve, optimistic, and ambitious high school senior that I once was. It had never occured to me in 2015 that I would be where I’m at now. I settled, big time. I settled for the school, the guy, and the location. Batman had once told me not to settle. Too bad he told me that too late, my heart was already involved.

Now? I won’t look back for anyone. All I can do is go forward from here. I think staying on campus next semester will really help me recapture my focus, my drive, my passion, my dream.

 

A Caged Bird

“If everything seems under control, you’re not going fast enough.”

― Mario Andretti

Summer is officially here!

The Spring semester has finally come to a close. To be honest, it wasn’t the best semester for me. I feel like I say that after every semester. I hope next semester will be better.

I’m back at the old job that I held last summer and temporarily staying with my grandmother for the summer. I will be living on campus once again next semester. More student loans, yay.

Batman. . . .

Well, we’re taking a “break”. My birthday is next week. He’s booked a hotel for us near a beach and plans to take me out to eat at Red Lobster. Not something you normally do with your ex. I will never understand our relationship. But he’s become my rock, my safety blanket. I don’t want to ever let him go.

Superman. . .

We’ve reached some reconciliation. So far, not much has come of it. I don’t expect it to. Similar to my relationship with Batman, I’m tired of the yo-yoing. We’re friends, we’re not friends, we’re more than friends, etc. I’ll let it run whatever course it choose to take. The ball is in Superman’s court.

Me. . .

I’ve somehow got lost in the mire of everything, school, work, relationships. I feel most at peace and one with myself in a car. I know, it sounds weird. But. . . the constant, steady, familiar motion of a car, the unknown stretching before you, the world blurring pass, the wind in your hair, the out-of-control feeling of going too fast, that is when I’m happiest. It all melts away. I’m just a girl going way too fast for her problems to catch up to her. A car is a symbol of freedom for me. When I’m in my car, I feel free.