Poisoned reality

"Poisoned Reality"

Emotions,
fickle little things aren't they?
One minute they are there, the next
nonexistent.
I take deep drags on my cigarette,
filling my lungs with poison,
much like the time spent
on you
I know both are fatal
but people, like cigarettes
are addictions
and the trick to 'em is
you never know exactly
who or what you're in for
and shit man
I've got a serious bone to pick
with reality
             -J.Lajoie

This is where the title would go

Here we are again followers. This is where I complain about life and leave out tons of other things that are going on because when I write on here I tend to focus on the bad. Here is where I would write some witty metaphor about how much I dislike being single, while simultaneously quoting some poem about how I am fine on my own and happy that I can handle life until someone special enters it. There is where I post a picture that is generally not relevant to what I am actually talking about, here:

This is where I then try to make a funny remark about how I think I am cool and then say just kidding.

Here I go spouting out words of wisdom about how things need to change and how only I can be the one to change them.

And finally, this is where I post my rantings/ramblings and then open up a new post maker to write a sappy poem about love once had.  Enjoy your day followers. I really do appreciate anyone that takes the time to read my blog. Because I do realize it is starting to become the same things over and over again, I should start coming up with topics to discuss instead of making this always about emotional crap. Thanks again guys and gals! :)

Night Light

"Night light"

It's true what they say, you know,

                                                  about misery loving company.

Maybe that's why you kept me,

                                                  holding on for so long.

                                                               Every night I closed my eyes, thinking,

                                 there's a martyr sleeping next to me.

Draining every ounce of me,

                                                     until there was nothing left.

                                                                 I wasn't nothing.

                                                                                            I left.
                                                                                     
                                                                                    - J.Lajoie

Honest is

Even if honesty brings us sadness, pain, guilt, frustration, or anger... it is always just that, honest. I find that the writing above couldn't have been said any better. And it was something I feel I needed to read. I have been stuck in such a rut lately, but reading this definitely helped clear things up with myself.
I've accumulated great friends in the past few months that are quite honest. I always wondered why I went through friends so fast and thought it was them who had not been worth the time I put into them. But now I realize that I get bored with people fast, I get bored with the lies or how they never try to work on themselves like I have been for the past few years. I shouldn't have let that bother me...and I don't know why I feel the never ending need to fix everyone around me. I need to be honest with myself and accept people as they are, and only help when asked. Instead of being my nosey-self and getting "all-up-in-their-business" trying to help them be better people. I'm proud of myself for finally having friends that I know have some issues they need to work through, but only helping them when they ask for it. It is a big step, and I am looking forward to growing and learning more about myself... and becoming more self-accepting.

So many words

As I sit here and try to muster up some brain-power to write a twelve page essay for my English Comp. class, I find my mind drifting to anything but my paper. I have never felt so distracted from my work in my life. Usually papers come pretty easy, not saying they are all A+ papers, but I can usually get a three page paper out in an hour. I wrote a nine page paper in about five hours, well the accumulation of all the hours I actually spent on it. This one is killing me. Analyzing things is one thing, but remembering all the tropes and schemes is seeming to be difficult. I can't just read a paragraph of a professional's work and point out every single word diction and if it is Latinate or Native. I know this is supposed to be challenging, but fuck my brain hurts. Perhaps I just wasn't meant for writing and this is why I am not pursuing Psychology as a career. I fucking hate writing papers. I like writing poetry or stories.... but I just can't put my heart into researching something that doesn't interest me. I suppose that is my failure as a student, I need to work on my caring level.

The feels!

"Your interested in me is like dust on a shelf"

Pending rage

I think what upsets me the most is knowing that all this pent up anger inside of me is an accumulation of all the things I couldn't tell you because you practically dropped off the face of the earth…. and never gave me the chance to say what I needed to say.

I guess I am upset that I have to hold on to all this baggage and you will go on with your life being happy. I wish it were easier to just throw it all away, but you got to say your last words and I didn't. So I am sorry that I am still healing. I am sorry that I still want to call you an asshole. I am not sorry that when I finally heal, I will probably won't even acknowledge your existence because you will have done that to yourself.