Happy Easter.
I hate when there isn't anyone I can talk to. I know it's selfish. I just want someone to rant to about my problems and get advice from, but everyone tells me that's what friends are for, and that's what I'm always doing for those I have. It's times like these when I remember just how many people I've lost and you know what? It fucking sucks. My best friend is currently in Chile with an incredibly spotty wifi connection. I would give just about anything for her to be with me right now. She's so lovely, and she always knows how to get me through my rough spots. My other best friend recently got back from Ecuador (Wow, what is it with my friends and leaving the country?) so I'm afraid she'll be in emotional shambles from having to leave paradise, and will busy with unpacking, as well as with her unhealthily possessive boyfriend who is probably freaking the fuck out because her phone didn't work there and they talk every goddamn moment of the day. My other other best friend... well, she's probably asleep already, even though it's pretty early. I hate complaining to her. I hate when people look at me like I'm broken, even if I kinda am in sometimes. I've always tried to make her proud of me, to only show her the strong parts so she won't think I'm weak. She shouldn't have to deal with my anxiety and depression. My boyfriend is being a buttmunch right now, and recently as well. He's busy watching the Walking Dead, so I can't talk things through with him, which I really would like to do because he's one of the things that's bothering me a bunch right now. My ex-best friend is being really weird. Honestly, she's who I really want to talk to right now, and it's another stab in the chest every time I reach for my phone then remember I can't text her. We had a weird moment recently. I went to a part she was at and she was intentionally trying to be all affectionate and talkative with me, and then later that night I texted her that I missed hanging out with her, but its the goddamn truth and I thought maybe we could have a chat about it and get everything off our chests and maybe open a channel for another friendship. She starts off with small talk, asking me how my family is, saying I look like I'm doing well. Then, she starts ranting about how much she misses her ex-boyfriend, WHO WAS THE VERY REASON SHE STOPPED BEING MY FRIEND IN THE FIRST PLACE. then she sent me screenshots of texts between her and his new girlfriend, who's now my ex-best friend's best friend (boy is that situation effed up). And like, you gotta be on a level with someone to send them screenshots of conversations with your best friend. I thought we abandoned that level LONG ago. So, I give her the advice I've always given her about how strong she is and how she'll make it through it and that she shouldn't underestimate her self worth. So, we text a little more, she briefly thanks me, and says goodnight. That was two weeks ago, and since then, NOTHING. Like, seriously. What the hell is that?! Ugh. So, that's me being a cry baby. I feel so stuck and sick and I just want to leave but I don't know where to go. "They call you cry baby, cry baby, but you don't fucking care Cry baby, cry baby, so you laugh through your tears." -Cry Baby, Melanie Martinez
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I've always felt so secure in my future. For so long know I've settled into my dream, I've grown used to its comforting promise, that whether or not I succeed or fail I will have tried my best.
But it's hard to succeed or fail when you don't know what you're supposed to be succeeding or failing at. You were born to be a writer, I'd always told myself. There's only one way you can make a difference and help people, and that's through pouring your heart out onto a page and hoping it'll make somebody's day a little brighter. Recently, though, that little voice has fallen to a whisper and I constantly find myself with only a tiny spark in my mind, where a flame once was. Does it really matter? Does anything I'm doing matter? I can't help but lost sight of the road ahead of me when all I see is my daily routine crushing my creativity. I used to fine comfort in the normality of it all. When I knew exactly what to expect out of my day, even if it was the promise of sorrow, it made me less anxious and more secure. Maybe that's one of the reasons I couldn't force myself the stop being depressed: because at least I knew to expect the tears, when throwing myself into the world with a smile could have had an outrageously unfamiliar outcome. It's just really hard. I find myself wondering if I'll feel bad again, and if I do, will I be able to pull myself back out. All I can do is remind myself, Remind myself of that little girl and all of her journals filled with fairytales written in glitter gel pen. She wouldn't want me to give up on her dreams. She would want me to hold my chin high work myself into the ground if that's what it took to be successful. Of course it matters. Maybe it doesn't matter to millions of people, maybe my novels won't fly off shelves, maybe I'll never get a New York's Best Seller sticker on a front cover. It matters to me. That's what's important. It's my dream, it's what I want. I need to stop being comfortable with it. All I want is a single smile from someone, maybe from a lonely teenager like I used to be, maybe from the mother whose child struggles depression. That would make it all worth it. And by god, that's what I'm going to get. ~Margo xx |
MargoMy name isn't Margo. Archives
December 2019
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