i need a life.

its one of those days where i begin to question what little is left of the sanity that i do have. i found myself staring at my face in the mirror. for the last five days or so i have been under an insane amount of stress. i used to handle stress ok. i say used to, because i was on a decent amount of drugs. i handled stress by getting wasted. i handled it by sleeping until whatever problem that had arisen had taken care of itself. i checked out mentally & physically. i wasn't ever really aware that i was doing this on purpose, i don't think i ever really thought about it. i don't think i put two & two together. i just simply didn't fucking deal with my life because i didn't want to.

my father has been in the hospital for the past week. i spent that past week picking at my face, and pulling out my hair. i rarely pick at my face, and i hardly ever pull out my hair. i realized i was having severe stress issues when i woke up one morning to find masses of hair strewn about my pillow. i was totally unaware that i had pulled out my hair. i did this while i was asleep. i did this after taking a rather large dose of atavan & flexerol so i could sleep. by all means, i should have been calm enough that i shouldn't have pulled my hair out. i should have been stable. there are a lot of should's in this equation. 

about two days later, after this episode, i got up in a fog to notice that i had REALLY pulled out a ton of hair. that i had significant bald spots on my head. no one would be able to tell other than me, i do a pretty decent job of hiding my trich affliction, but i was none the less mortified that my father's stint in the hospital was causing me to loose it this much. it wasn't just my father, it was also what was going on with wynn, and worrying about whether or not i should tell his family that he has been using & when and where i should do that. it was ray leaving & my wondering if he was ever even going to come back. it was my mother taking every chance she had to belittle me and remind me that i am a rotten horrible person and an epic failure in her book.

all of this came to a head as i stared at myself this morning in the mirror. my face has those marks that people on meth get from picking at their skin incessantly. my eyes are sunken in & have circles under them. i had perviously been up for four days straight with no sleep due to mania (to which i got the usual from my family "well if you are going to be up at all hours of the night why the fuck can't you do something useful?" my mother can admit that i am depressed & crazy but not bipolar and crazy). my roots are showing & i need to dye my hair. put simply, i look like i fucking feel -

like shit.

staring at the mirror, i started to get the image in my head of what it would be like to put a gun in my mouth and pull the trigger. i stared back at my eye balls as i thought about this. i didn't feel even remotely bad for thinking the thought. i felt, to be honest, relief. relief because it would all be fucking over. but such a violent and final way to die. and not, by any means, my preferred method of death. i wondered why on earth that had come into my mind at that moment, but i didn't really wonder. i have been struggling with suicidal thoughts for months now, as i often do every winter. i don't talk about it with anyone, i don't say anything, because there is no point. i thought about what i would do if i did, actually start to plan my own suicide.

because the truth is, not all that much has changed since the last time i attempted to get help. since the last time i spent a week staring obsessively at the pills i wanted to eat to end my life. if i am honest with myself, nothing has changed. i am pretty much in the same fucking position. my life hasn't gone anywhere, my depression is just as dismal as it was back then, and i am about as motivated as a fucking corpse. i am still making crappy choices. i still don't have a fucking job. i know i need one. but i so sucked in by my dismal family life, so sucked in by my father and his guilt trips, that i just... i don't even try. i haven't even bothered to try to fix the situation with school because frankly it is a disaster and a loosing battle. the only way to save my situation there is to move & go somewhere else. and i am fucking up the chances of getting a loan monthly because i can't pay off my other loan. 

i don't even know who i am anymore. i don't even know what it is i want. if i am truthfully honest with myself, i am somewhat jealous of wynn & his fuck it attitude & the fact that he just gave up and decided to do drugs. for some dumbass reason, i have this thing inside me - self preservation or guilt, which one i am not sure - that won't let me go that far. i do not believe i could ever get to that point, get to that point where i would ever use again, ever go back down that road that i was once on. i am just over it. but there are days, days like today, where i really want to kick back & fucking destroy myself.

if a person is a culmination of all of their life experiences, then who does that make me? i have a lot of stories, and i never lack for something to write about. but i am serious when i say that i have no idea who i am anymore. one day i just woke up and i was no longer angry. it took so much effort to be mean, to be upset with the world. to dislike everyone who ever disliked me. to hold a grudge against the friends who hurt my feelings. i had to get the fuck over it. so i did. and in the process of doing that, i mellowed out, and i grew up. i found that i valued my family a lot more than i ever thought i did. i valued them because through everything, they stood by me. i also realized that a lot of the reason why i am so damaged has to do with them. they did the best they could, and it is only me who can fix me, but it's going to take years to undo that damage. and its also going to take leaving them, cutting the cord, distance, if you will.

how do i even begin to figure out who i am? i am 30 years old and i don't have a clue as to how to begin the self actualization process. most people do this at 19 years of age when they go away to college. i started that process when i left home for the first time, but, i had to come back. i started it again when i left again, but i came back. and i needed to come back. i needed to get my shit together. but in the process of getting my shit together, i have also become a glorified teenager who never has to worry about anything because mommy & daddy will take care of it. i have no idea what it is like to be independent. i desperately need to learn this. 

what i am afraid of, is that, if i leave, i will feel guilty that everything with my dad & grandmother will get shifted onto my mother. i am afraid my dad will want to die because he will be left alone. i am afraid my dad will die & i will feel an enormous amount of guilt because of that. i am afraid that if i leave, i won't know what to do when i am by myself. i am afraid that if i leave with ray (and thats a big fucking if) he will proceed to destroy what little self esteem i do have (which i am coming to find out i don't have all that much to begin with.) I am afraid that if i stay here, i will kill myself, because there is nothing here for me. even on good days i know there is nothing here for me. i am afraid that if i leave, change won't do me any good & i will still flip out and want to kill myself & i will still be as lonely as i have ever been and because i will be away from my family, it will be easier because i won't feel the guilt. what it comes down to, seriously, is that the older i get, the worse my disease gets, and the more crazy i feel. the more i find myself wanting to die because i can't live up to my own expectations & i don't even know how to fucking begin to love myself & forgive myself. i can't live up to my own expectations because i can't get a goddamn do-over card. there are no do-overs. i fucked up, and i fucked up epically, royally, really goddamn good, and i have to live with that, and so now i am a 30 year old fuck up without a college degree who has an interesting life story and nothing to show for the fact that she knows a ton of people who also fucked up their lives and who are all dead. and, you don't get a pat on the fucking back or a congratulations for knowing that information. the world doesn't reward people who have made epic mistakes. 

i am my own worst enemy. 

i don't even know how to begin to fucking fix that.

twitter is made for vultures

when you took to the skies
leaving on a jet plane
you promised to be back,
within the blink of an eye

before i knew it,
before my heart could
ever begin to miss you
you promised to be back

so i wouldn't have to
contemplate the thought of loss
or how i would begin to live
without you -

but our plans for a life came undone,
and you never dialed my phone
i found myself sleeping all alone
with a broken heart i couldn't mend





the last time things went to shit with ray, i remember it all crystal clear. he went to boston. he said he would be back. he said, 'don't worry, babe, i'll be back soon.' the plan was to go to vancouver to see muse and spend the weekend there, because he really liked the city & wanted me to experience it. although i am not a huge fan of muse's new music, i liked their old stuff and i was game to go along. i have always wanted to go to vancouver - i had heard great things about the city, and about it's weed alone. a little get away for the two of us sounded really awesome. i was excited. i really was. i downplayed how much i was looking forward to it, because i didn't want to get my hopes up & have them crushed. i also knew that with ray, nothing is as it seems. he had told me that he didn't know what would happen between us, because of what was going on with his career - blah fucking blah - and i understood, it involved being god knows where, and working 15 hour days, sometimes longer. i knew that ray's ambition & drive would always be the first priority. that his career would take precident over me, and that i would never be the most important thing in his life. i understood that, and to a certain extent, i envied that - to be so passionate about something - to know -

to know what one wants... so badly that, you are willing to sacrifice love, friendship, relationships of all sorts in order for greatness - i respect that. i am jealous of that. i can not think of one thing i really want badly enough that i would sacrifice everything for. perhaps, love. but, i mean, not a career. i am not that driven. i love politics, it's a passion, but, it's not THAT much of a passion.

so, when he said that, i guess i understood, and i respected that. i didn't expect, at that point in time, to become his girlfriend. but the problem, the huge motherfucking problem with ray holycross was that he had me the minute he said hello. i was clay in his hands. weak in the knees. i knew i loved from that first date on. and, god save me, i never gave up on him.

did i ever really know him? i don't know if i did. all i know is that, after a few weeks of staying with me, and sleeping in my bed, he started to refer to me as his girlfriend. i found this to be strange, but i also thought that it was flattering, so i took it to heart. i more than likely shouldn't have. he could charm the skin off of a fucking snake, ray, could. and so, when he left, saying, 'ill be back, i promise, we'll go to vancouver, it'll be fine...' i should have just shut down internally. my insides were ringing alarm bells. they were screaming. i knew something wasn't right. i knew i was being lied to. somewhere, in there, was a lie, but i just wasn't sure where.

so what happened? he never called. he never called like he said he would. he never wrote me, he never text messaged me. he got angry at me for even asking if he was okay. he had this amazing ability to make me feel insane & insecure. mostly because before he left he rarely touched me physically, which led me to feel like i was undesirable & disgusting. i have issues, ok. a lot of issues. issues which i never ever told him about. it didn't seem like there was much of a point in opening up to him about how deeply fucked up i was, because, he had abandoned me once. i had learned the hard way.

i don't even remember what our fight was about. when pressed, he says he doesn't remember either, but i suspect that he remembers all too well. he's not the type to forget. i just know that he was supposed to come pick me up. i was waiting. he said he would be there at my house. and he never showed up. he just flat out stood me up. i had bought a new dress & everything. i was so looking forward to leaving town & going somewhere nice with him. why? because i loved him. why? because i wanted to spend time with him. i called him. he refused to answer. i left voice mails. i cried. i left emails. i asked what it was that i did that was so horrible. i asked if there was someone else. i asked for him to at the very least, be honest with me.

what i got in return was nothing. nothing but white, blank, utter deafening silence. do you know how loud silence can be? silence can be the loudest sound in the world when someone refuses to acknowledge your existence. it can be the cruelest sound in the world, too.

during this time, i had turned to his twitter to try to figure out just what the hell was going on with him. let me begin to say that i can not, can not, put into words how much i hate twitter. let me also say that, when in a 'relationship' with someone where that person is actively not telling you the whole truth but also keeping up a whole online persona, it makes it really really fucking hard to figure out just who the hell it is who you actually know. i mean, what person you actually know. i began to suspect that every single person he talked to on twitter was someone he was also seeing behind my back. and the worst part is, i am not this suspicious jealous person. i have come to realize i have some serious self esteem issues, but, i've never had issues so bad that i get jealous of what my significant other does over the damned internet. why? because that would be goddamned insane of me. but there i was, basically being froze out of my supposed boyfriend's life, all the while watching his life go by on his goddamn twitter account, wondering what the hell was so wrong with me that i couldn't even warrant a text message.

i never found out what was actually going on, why he did what he did, if he had been cheating on me or what. i suppose i should more than likely ask for my own sanity, if i am going to continue to be with him. my major problem with my relationship with him, back then, was that there was no foundation of trust. i didn't trust him what so ever. sure, he told me all these facts about his life, and i suppose i believed him, more or less, but i never really knew if i did or not. he seemed like a moral upstanding person, but my judgement in people is pretty, uh... well, its pretty shitty. i'm a pretty shit judge of character.

in the end we quit talking. he went his way, i went mine. i never asked why, he never explained why.

& then,

then we started talking again. its my fault. it's always my fault. because.... he got under my skin. and once he got under there, he has stayed there. and i was curious. i wanted to know how he was doing. so when i saw him online, i would ask. i would ask and i would wonder & i would talk to him. the conversations were usually short at best. i had a boyfriend & i didn't want to get emotionally involved with an x while being in a relationship. i just, i couldn't do that. at one point he had messaged me about a vacation - thats what we did together, he & i - we were vacations from each other's reality. i ignored him. admittedly, i was still pissed. hell, to this day i am still pissed. but, you have to forgive. the short of it is we began talking. and we talked every night. he was in a bad situation. i was in a loveless crappy relationship. it was nice to just talk to someone about the things i am passionate about. in the end, i helped him out of his situation. he came up here. he said he loves me. i said i love him. we've been together since.

well, today he went into chicago for a job interview. i don't know if he actually had a job interview or not. i really hope he did, seeing as my mother paid for him to go into the city. he was supposed to get in touch with me to tell me he made it there okay. it was 11 at night and i still hadn't heard from him. he said he would call or email me. i had heard nothing. so, i made the mistake of going on his twitter. now, i know better. i know that going to his twitter feed is opening a can of worms that i do not want to see. i know that it will only make me unhappy, make me feel insecure, and more than likely make me dislike him. but i did it before i had thought about all of that. it was too late. and, it was there that i found him talking to a girl from la. talking to a girl from la who had just moved to chicago. who had just moved to chicago yesterday or the day before. talking to her about how he wanted her to move to chicago. talking about the two of them seeing one another. in chicago. she 'makes' movies. they talked about seeing muse. strange, because, you know he & i were supposed to go, and well, he just bailed. i don't know. he spends so much time on his phone, on the goddamn twitter and doing whatever else & i don't ask to read or see what he does because like, im supposed to trust him.

the thing is....

i sent him a letter a while ago, a few days ago, saying that i loved him and i gave him all the reasons why i loved him. he read it & after wards, he said, 'i read your letter, its cute.' that was hardly the response i was looking for.

i don't know. sometimes i fear that i love him far more than he loves me. so i've cut back on telling him that i love him. i don't try to kiss him. its not like we have sex, we can't because of his heart. which is like, well it sucks.

and i don't want to think that i can't trust him, that, he doesn't love me, and that worst of all he is taking advantage of me, and worst of all of that taking advantage of my family. he prides himself on his morals and i really thought he had/has them. but i don't know. it looks fishy, and it feels fishy. if it looks fishy & it smells fishy, and it feels scaly,

its prolly because it's a goddamn fish.



& i don't,

i so don't want

my goddamn heart
to be broken.

i don't want to go back to being alone
all alone, in this shit hole town
with my crazy family
and my x boyfriend who has taken to shooting up heroin
and blaming it all on me

i want my boyfriend to fucking love me
not someone else
i want him to love me

is that so much to ask?
is it?

fuck you blogger for eating my whole fucking entry.
fuck you fuck you fuck you

we'll start a war (needs to be edited)

she was a way for me to do penance for my every horrible thing. a way for me to punish myself - continually, for being, what i thought, was a bad person.

she was all too happy to play along in this, all too happy to assign me the blame for her mistakes, all to happy to shove the guilt my way for when she couldn't deal with the actions that she had made. it was easier to blame it all on me, the perpetual 'bad friend, bad influence' because, well everyone in chicago had blamed her downfall on me. they made it easy for her. all she had to do was play along.

the problem with this whole thesis was that often, i wasn't even around for when she made her catastrophic life altering mistakes. i was usually the one who bailed her out of trouble, as i am wont to do for everyone i know, but i was never the one who was right next to her encouraging her to become the laundry list of mistakes that i now think of when i think of her. i participated in those mistakes early in the game when i was busy trying to obliterate myself off of the face of the earth in anyway possible, but once i came to my senses, i tried rather hard to not be around when she did these things. the problem was, she was always, always doing these things. 

female friendships are hard - they are complex and strange things. i often do not understand them. my friendships with my male friends have never been complicated. they have always been friendships that are not full of mixed messages. they are straight and to the point for the most part. female friendships, on the other hand, are not. 

i was raised by a feminist mother. i was taught to value other females, to respect them, and most importantly; i have never viewed my female friends as competition. i have never understood why it is that we, as girls are forced, more or less, to view one another not as sisters, but as road blocks and speed traps on the highway to catching the most important thing in life - a man. my eyes are rolling as i type this, just so you know. i have always desired close female friends, i suppose because i have always wanted a sister, an older sister, a younger one. i have grown up watching my mother's extremely close relationship with her sister, and have longed for that myself. i have watched my friends who have sisters grow closer as they have grown older. and i am jealous. i wish i had that. i have female friends but they are few and far between - i love them all, and they are all very important to me, they are all sisters to me, but they all live very far from me. i rarely get to see them, and if i do spend time with them, it is for a few days at most. 

she was someone i considered a sister. more than that, even. i loved her and i would have done anything for her. over and over i did what she needed me to do. and over and over she took advantage of that. somehow, the friendship became one that was not about supporting one another, and instead became one where the modus operandi was to make each other feel bad. this was never discussed outright. we both had been through so much together that it was impossible to let go of the other one. it was impossible to break up. i don't know if i ever purposefully set out to make her feel bad about herself, that was never my intention. i never wanted her to feel bad about who she was - that is not who i am as a person. but she had been my friend when who i was as a person was, well, to put it mildly, pretty rotten. i was a selfish, angry, miserable, dark, black hole of depression and everyone who came into contact with me during that time can agree with that statement. i wasn't always like that - and, i had some pretty good reasons for why i was that way, but none the less it is an accurate statement regarding who i was. during that period of time, she defended me like a good trial lawyer & she didn't have to. i didn't hire her. i didn't even know she was defending me, half the time. that's what a good friend does. and i felt indebted to her for that, for years. so, when we switched places, when she became the angry, miserable, selfish, dark suck hole of depression who only wanted to drag people down with her i felt like i should stay by her side. and i dutifully stayed. i forgave her, and i forgave her, and i FORGAVE her. over things that, looking back, i truly should have ended the friendship over. things that a therapist would have given me the okay over, over things any normal person would have freaked over.

and yet - i remained friends with her. because i loved her. because our friendship was dysfunctional, yes, but who's wasn't? what i had failed to see was that while i had grown and changed as a person, she had, too, and neither of us could meet in the middle. the person that i had known her as was no longer there, and while i feel i have grown & come out of everything as a better person and have to thank because of it, i can't say she has come out of everything to be a better person. i don't even know who she is anymore. she never believed in sisterhood, she never believed in 'girl code.' she believed that it's every girl for herself. she takes what she wants from whomever she wants without regard for what it does to others. i didn't realize until the other day, when i was standing in the kitchen doing the dishes while listening to underworld that in some fucked up way, she was my penance. she was my penance for being  such a horrible person when i lived in chicago. and i don't even know if i was all that horrible of a person when i lived there. i only have a mild recollection of who i was back then, i don't really remember because the memories are gone, they went away when i was in my last car accident. i just hear the echo of the pumpkin's voice calling me names, saying that i more or less didn't deserve to be living at the walton house, then at the other apartment, basically that i didn't deserve to breathe. and if someone who i unconditionally loved as much as i loved that kid, could turn around and hate me as much as he ended up hating me & do it while making most of my friends dislike me too, i am going to assume i wasn't all that great to be around. i'm going to go out on a limb and say we all were a bit hard to be around. the point, however, is that she was my way of doing penance for both being a horrible person & a way to make myself feel horrible. she had a wonderful ability to make me feel like shit about myself. your best friend should not, i repeat, should not, make you feel horrible about yourself. towards the end there, she made me feel just god fucking awful about who i am. she would say, too, i should add, that SHE didn't make me feel anything, that i felt that all on my own & she is innocent of whatever she did or didn't do. i remember bringing up the fact that i felt horrible about myself & that she was playing a big part in that, and, as my friend, why the hell would she want to make me feel like shit? she dodged the question & answered that i am the one who is in control of my emotions & that she did not, and does not, make me feel anything. 

i have this problem, i do, with keeping people around who are bad for me, who make me feel horrible about myself, because i feel like i need to be punished. i never figured it out until this past summer, that i had this, complex about how i need to be punished for being a bad person. once i figured out that i kept bad people around me, as a form of punishment, well - i ditched the bad people. it wasn't hard, they gave me a multitude of reasons for why i shouldn't have them around. and once i realized that i am way too understanding, way too apt to give people 2nd, 3rd, 4th chances because in my past i wasn't given a second chance nor any understanding, so i give everyone the benefit of the doubt and much more, well, it was much easier to see how i was being manipulated. 

when i was younger, my mother once told me that i would be lucky, if i had three or four good friends when i turned 30. i remember recoiling in horror, thinking she was insane. 3? 4? good friends? I am now 30, and i find myself with just about that. My best friend inevitably ends up being whomever i am dating at the time, because that is the person i spend all of my time with. My other good friends are friends from childhood, and a few scattered from other periods of my life, all of them are girls, but none of them are people i see regularly. it is amazing though how quickly you loose friends in your late 20's. they scatter like ashes. people who you swore you would never loose touch with you can't bare to talk to now. people who you never thought would be different from you rapidly morph from your buddies into friends that are married, into the dreaded married 'with kids.' if you are not part of the married & with kids bubble, suddenly you find yourself unable to relate to two thirds of your age group. and where the hell does one go to find new friends? do i put an ad on craigslist? seriously, i am involved in a decent amount of things in my little area & still.... i have yet to find anyone who is friend material.

its a daunting prospect. and i guess that's another reason why i didn't want to let her go. and why, if i am perfectly honest with myself - i miss her. i will always miss her, and i will always love her. and, when, you love someone you will always want the best for them, despite all that has happened between you. i do hope & want the best for her, even if i have no idea who the hell she is anymore.

sound in a dark room

 we watch battlestar gallatica at night and he holds me while my xboyfriend sends me text messages telling me how much he loves me, 'reminding me' of how much he 'loves' me. i cried last night shuddering tears, flooded with memories that i wished i didn't have to relive. it's hard to put into words ten years of mistakes, not necessarily mistakes but, a lot of bad things that i don't want to remember, and, a lot of emotional pain. time goes on, time always continues, making it so that the bad things that you have gone through - its all further and further away, but, man, sometimes, all it takes is for someone to say something, or do something, and -

you are fucking right back there. in those moments that you don't want to relive ever again.

i don't need to be reminded of my last relationship or why i ended it. i know why i ended it. i wasn't happy and i was becoming someone i hated. i slept more than i was awake, to avoid the fact that i was slowly beginning to hate myself, i was depressed and needed to be on more medication and i was slowly finding myself having completely illogical thoughts that consisted mostly of how could i end my life. i know these thoughts are illogical, and i know these thoughts are thoughts that i will deal with through out my life. they will come up periodically when winter comes and i will have to get on stronger medication and i will also have to address the issues that are really bothering me. i saw myself withdrawing from the people who cared about me, the few friends i do have. i never left my house or my bedroom. i became his taxi service. i also became his mother. while he did have the best intentions, i am sure, he let me live off of him. not to a degree where i got to do things that were awesome, we barely got by. it was a pretty dismal life. he didn't have a driver's license and refused to go into treatment so that he could obtain one. he wouldn't save his money and was waiting for me to get a job so that we could move. there were other things too, that bothered me. like, how he had to touch me all the time. i don't mind physical touch or connection, but, he had to always... touch me. sometimes he felt like a mole on my skin. i had to watch and limit how much he drank, and he always smoked right when he got in the car. when i felt like shit, he wouldn't offer to go get me anything, or offer to take care of me beyond the formality of 'i wish i could take care of you' via text message. he wasn't passionate nor interested in the things i am interested in. he said he read books when we first started dating. i gave him some to read. he never read a single one. i never saw any books in his house other than hunter s thompson and chuck p, the typical hipster bullshit that you would expect from someone who smokes too much pot and drinks too much. i begged him to figure out what the fuck he wanted to do in life, to find some direction. to enroll in school. to just... do something.

i was miserable. with myself. i had settled into a relationship that had done nothing for me. he was happy, and i didn't want to hurt him. so often, i think, when we are in small towns, we just try to find someone who is somewhat tolerable - someone who likes a few of the things we do, and we settle for it. i didn't want to settle. i don't want to settle. it became more and more clear that i was in a relationship that was like... my parents marriage. but... worse. this isn't to say that i don't like my xboyfriend. i do, as a person, he is a good, sweet guy. he will make someone very happy one day. it's just that someone isn't me. i need a person who will challenge me. who will make me want to be a better person, who will keep me interested, who mentally.... has something there with me. someone who, i can grow with. unfortunately, my x just quit growing years ago. you can't force someone to grow. they have to want to do it. and he doesn't want to.

he refuses to believe that it is over. and its over. VERY over.
i feel bad for him. i feel... horrible. i don't want to break his heart, but its become more and more apparent that he needs to have his heart broken. he needs to grow the fuck up. when i went to exchange his stuff & get my stuff, i found him all fucked up on heroin. he tried to blame the fact that he did the heroin on me. again, he refuses to take responsibility for his actions. i should say that i broke up with him because he stole 40 of my pills of percocet. with in the time span of a week. while watching me suffer from pain, daily, because its winter, and the weather makes my fibro really intolerable. he watched me suffer, unable to sleep, unable to function, and he took the medicine that makes it so i can function - because... well,

he said... he doesn't really know why. he said he just wanted to get high.

i said that it showed his character. and its not something i can forgive.

i broke up with him on the 21st of december. the day of the lunar eclipse. the day for people born during the sag/cap cusp to get rid of things and people that they thought they once would really need & couldn't live without but, upon further reflection, they really don't need said things or people at all. it's a day of rebirth, a day to grow. i turned 30 two days later.

when people asked me if i felt any different, i said not really, but the truth was, when i reflected back on it -

these past few weeks -

i really do feel different. i feel like i am coming into my own. i have gotten rid of a lot of people that were holding me back. i have gotten rid of a lot of very negative, shitty people. i have taken a lot of time to try to figure out who i am, and what is important to me. i have spent a lot of time trying to really grow up. i know a bit more about myself. i now know what i am passionate about. after spending years & years not knowing, and being so envious of all of those who were so sure of those things - and wishing i had... something i could put my energies into, i now know what i at least want to do with myself. i know what my favorite things are. i know what i will  tolerate in a relationship, and what the fuck i will not tolerate. i am pretty sure i know what love is, and i am pretty sure i have found it with the person i have always loved but could never communicate with. we have started over, and i have been happy. he is not responsible for my happiness. i am. but i can see us having a decent life together. we are learning to communicate. we will see. i feel like turning 30 will be the year that i have come into my own.
i have hope. and that feels good.