And in the end none of it mattered. She let four months clean go free in a matter of ten minutes, but was it worth it to turn the music all the way up and shut out the world and watch it all pour out like red velvet? This was why she didn't depend on people. They were never really there when you ever really needed them. Her insides (and outsides) were a mirror of that, weren't they. In the end, it all meant nothing. She wasn't strong enough and she struggled through four months for no reason. This was it, wasn't it. Sitting on the floor full of balled up tissues and the traces of red, red, red velvet. All there was, was
red
velvet
all
over
because


this was it..
wasn't it?

Today I saw a
Smile
and it looked just like
Your
Smile
and it made me feel the way
Yours did
and
I miss you.
and these scars will fade
Away, but
Never
Disappear, my dear.
and did I mention
How
I miss you?

I feel suicidal because it's one of those times I told you about about when I told you I randomly feel like a walking void. And I feel it even more so because I feel like I am doing things wrong with you. And I'm stressed and I'm tired and I'm thinking about things I shouldn't think about and usually never allow myself to think about. And the moon's not out, which may or may not be a sign, but I don't even know what I'm talking about. I feel suicidal because it's convenient when the water is just right there and it's so vast and beautiful and worth dying in. I feel suicidal because it's familiar.  I feel suicidal because it's easy to just let it all go rather than to keep holding on for God knows what. And maybe that's just it - God knows what and this is why we let the quiet put things where they are supposed to be.

"maybe you

like the ocean

a bit 

too much."

invalid statement.

August 19, 2013 ~ 2:43am

This is not a journal entry, but something about being awake this late makes me feel like a walking void. Which doesn't make since because in this case I mean a completely empty space. Being up this late, or rather early, makes me think about the last time that I was consistently up at this time and later/earlier. I was so unhappy. And I know it isn't completely gone. Sometimes I feel it in segments through a span of days or weeks. Sometimes all at once. Sometimes I can't breathe. Right now I feel numb. I'm thinking about everything and absolutely nothing and I don't understand myself. I am just existing mostly. I'd rather sit alone and observe people from afar. But maybe not everyone was meant for participation. And maybe it means something when you think about someone and they contact you within that same day before not speaking for yet almost another month. And maybe it means something to put others before yourself. Maybe it means something to just want to sleep all day. Maybe it means something when you start humming a song you haven't heard in years. And maybe it means something to like people a little more despite how they treat you sometimes. Or maybe it doesn't mean anything at all.

Maybe.

It amazes me how people change. How much, how often, how quickly. Even people you never thought would change. You spend all your time with them, content with them being who they are. Then one day you wake up and you don't even know who they are anymore.
People are peculiar and I don't understand them. I don't know that I want to understand. I spend my days people watching and thinking about how much different we all are, yet at the same time so.. alike. For the most part, we all want the same things. But we go about getting them in so many different ways. Some worse than others. I guess what I'm saying is..

Dear you,

Who are you really? You are not who I thought you were, and you are no longer who I thought I wanted to be. You are a chameleon with a mind and thoughts all your own. You are not spontaneous hugs or spilled secrets at midnight. You are secrecy and false strength and moods that cannot be described. You are so unfamiliar to me now, but I am not afraid anymore. And maybe I wrote this because recently you and I are just not the way we used to be. Or maybe I'm writing this out of pent up frustrations. Either way, I don't know who you are anymore and I don't know how that makes me feel. I guess I have lost you. I guess we will be the way you said you'd never allow. I guess so.  

I woke up with a strange feeling. I feel slightly off balance within myself. And I felt compelled to write, as I haven't in months. Though, what it is I am supposed to be writing escapes me.

Maybe I should be writing about how every single moment after my first step towards recovery has been a constant battle with myself and my depression. Sometimes I just want to give up and give in. Maybe it's just supposed to be a part of who I am. It has already shaped who I am and how I view things.. Someone keeps telling me that it's just the devil nagging at me. And as much as I believe in God, I still find it a bit difficult to believe that every single thing reverts back to heaven and hell. Maybe that is my downfall.

Or maybe I should be writing about something dynamic. And maybe I should put my words into sentences that would blow minds. But what do I write? And how?