Inquiring minds would NOT want to know. Not this time. So, goodluck to these crazy eyes cos they see anything and everything.
Taking things one step at a time is essential for well-being. And sanity. And adjustment. And everything else. But it doesn’t mean it’s going to be pretty. UGH.
The upside of maturely dealing with things is that it won’t be that bad forever. Somehow, someday, I’ll get used to this and it won’t be as bothersome as it presently is. And so I wait for that glorious moment wherein life starts to suck less. This neverending game is honestly eating me alive, but my vampire blood makes it hard for me to die inside cos I just keep healing away. Methinks I now possess a giant ball of fibrotic insides and I can’t seem to escape it.
I’m doomed. But I really don’t want to admit it. Cos if I do, this world will come tumbling down and I will be dragged into my proverbial hell. Deep breaths are all I need. I hope that’s it.
STOP. STOP. STOOOOOP.
I understand that I may be quite a handful, cos I’m neurotic, unpredictable, frank, moody, too chatty, too girly, a worrier, and mean, among other things. But I’m pretty sure I try as much as I can to be a good friend, person and human being to those individuals I care about. Heck, I even worry about people I don’t necessarily have to care about—just because I have been entrusted with their well-being, too.
If you don’t like it, you honestly just have to tell me. That’s all I’m saying. Because I’d really appreciate the frankness more than the rude comebacks, especially if they weren’t even subtlely delivered. I do not demand for recognition, but I also don’t appreciate that you choose inflections of sarcasm (or even blunt and direct sarcasm) over honesty when you tell me what you think.
I actually think you’re one person worth worrying for, but, sure, I get the message now. I’ll keep a mental note to stop caring for your existence then. I’m not usually the type who ceases to care, but this time, I think I can convince myself to make an exception. Sure, the process is going to be hard, but oh well. Just so you know, I think you’ll miss this perfectly flawed mind. Then again, maybe not. :)
Self-preservation is such a two-faced b*tch.
And I don’t know why the hell I keep doing this to myself.
I guess I just have to get used to the downside more. I get to detach, yes. But I feel all the glorious pangs, too. As a matter of fact, I just got that almost-too-real heart squeeze a second ago when the smarter part of my brain told me to establish the distance more. That self-satisfied smirk was just too real, and I hope that the blood that drained out of my entirety did not sell me out.
I had to bury my face into my hands because it was too surreal to just endure with a poker face. My smiles betray me, and the initial chill that crept up my being was replaced with some sort of fiery internal struggle even I couldn’t decipher. Long story short, it was a flurry of feels I thought I had already let go.
Well, apparently not.
I was pulled back into the real world when I heard a classmate say, “Don’t cry, Jaimie. You look like you’re going to cry.” At that point, all I could muster was a nervous “Huh?” and unconsciously went back to staring into space. I’m okay, I’m okay. It’ll be fine.
Yes. It will be. And it should.