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.