I've been good to others. Like my patients and their families. But not my own. Most especially not to myself.
I’ve wasted loads of my own time. I wouldn’t take any of it back. Mostly because it’s an exercise in stupidity. But I'm spending less time on self loathing and more on self improvement and betterment. Im fucking worth it.
I like high life better than the real one. VR is better than reality. It hurts less. Bright distractions for a bleak acknowledgement.
I want the real thing. I want something I've never felt. Real love. I want someone who I think is perfect, who thinks I'm pretty great too. I want amazing sex and passion. I want talking of any topic, I want emotional conversations. Real talk. I want to be fucking consumed.
I want you to call me.
Sometimes I wish I had the choices of college laid before me. Sometimes I wish I was back there, small and ignorant but making love to a man in a plaid shirt with a real record playing behind us. With no cares and no responsibility and the ability to do the broken hearts and hurts the future brings.
This hole is so deep, God. I feel like I'm forever crawling upward only to fall even further down in it.
Three posts in one night. Yikes.
A part of me thinks this is what I deserve. A part of me thinks as a young girl I didn't dream because life taught me not to. Instead I read and saw the world through books.
Now I don't really read. I mean the news I guess. I know things, I'm not completely uneducated. But I don't get lost in books like I did growing up.
I feel defeated. Like I might just die alone with no one to care. In a tiny box in Brooklyn. And that is not why I romanticised moving here ha, for that well-read book of Betty Smith's.
I know so many humans feel like me. That I am so common. But I'm so lonely. I want to feel.
I still pray. I'm still grateful. But I'm so very tired.
So I guess this is it: I'm lonely, and I'm not normal.
I'm never going to be dishonest with anyone. But how do I meet someone as I am? Like I love and hate NYC. I love the diversity. Diversity of person, of mind, of being. I might disagree but it turns me on. But the lack of natural beauty? The sheer number of humans? Terrifying. Turn the humans to dogs and I'm in heaven. And again I ask: what do I do with this? Why am I like this?
A lot of the time I feel so fucked up.
Like when I imagined things as a tiny kid this was not it. But I guess I never really idealised the future like other kids. I never saw myself with kids and a family. I wanted those things but I couldn't see them if that makes sense. I was never the girl imagining the Disney Princess life. I didn't really ever idealise things. I was like, well,arriahe looks shitty. Kids can be born a mess.
I love what I do and I'm good at it. More than anything I miss Samson. Beyond that I don't know at this point.
Am I odd?
