It’s the memories that are the worst. The happiness I felt in those fleeting moments that keep playing in my head over and over, painting a sad smile on my face. It’s those memories that make it so difficult to let go. It feels like I’m tearing a piece of myself apart. But I do it anyway, even though I don’t have to, and it would be easier if I didn’t. Because it’s not about me.
It’s a conscious decision I make based on the things I know at the time. It’s the right decision I tell myself. So far I have been right, why would this time be any different. And if I’m wrong, at least I will be the only one that gets hurt. Which only means it’ll hurt me even more if I’m right. But like I said, it’s not about me. It’s a sacrifice. That thing you do that really really sucks, but you’ll do it in a heartbeat when you have to because you love them.
I do it because I can take it. I’m not saying it’s easy, but it’s doable. I had a.. different.. childhood. I think because of it, as a kid I learned how to endure. I can keep going when things are at their worst. It seems crazy to me sometimes when I think about what’s happening that I can find morsels of happiness or create them when I need them. The analogy I use in my head is a hand cranked generator. I keep turning it and just take it 10 seconds at a time. Everything is easier if you only think about having to do it for 10 seconds (Also I think I finally understand that analogy from Unbreakable). The hard part is not knowing if I made the right choice. It seems like the right choice. It feels like the right choice. But maybe it wasn’t my choice to make. At the same time, it’s my right to be able to make that choice. I guess only time will tell. Until then, I’ll keep trying to stay okay. Maybe I won’t be great, but okay will do for now. (:
With the invention of the internet we began getting an increase in the ability to express our opinions and beliefs more freely, more importantly without fear of reprimand because of the safety of being anonymous. Sure, not all people express their opinions anonymously (like me for example), but a lot do. I’m not only talking
If you’re going to act like I don’t exist, please at least be consistent. I keep getting worse, better again, and then even worse than the last time. I’ve refused to talk about the things that are upsetting me because well partially because I don’t even know how to put all this garbled mess of