I Don't Do Sadness.

I found myself inspired to write in my science class today, and so I did. I wanted to blog; I feel the need to write and let my emotions out, regardless of whether or not anyone else sees what I write.

I usually write in this for other people, which is strange because I'm fairly positive no one reads this anyway. So I'm going to write this for me. I haven't been good about writing in my journal, and I really need some sort of outlet.

I am feeling so many things. Hurt, sadness, anger, insecurity, fear, betrayal. My mind never stops spinning. It is better when I'm with friends, and I have times where I'm happy. Certain things make me temporarily happy. But that's just it: it's all entirely temporary. Loneliness always finds a way to seep in, even when I'm not physically alone. It gnaws at my thoughts like a weed. Panic makes itself known too, in a very extreme and terrifying way where I can't breathe and I shake and sob uncontrollably. Panic attacks. Both times, I didn't see them coming, and had a very hard time ending them. I am a very emotional person, and I often let my feelings control me and what I do.

I was reminded today of possibly the ballsiest thing I've ever done, and it really got me thinking. I wish I could regain the courage I felt in that moment, because oh, it felt so good. Independence, release, strength. These are things I used to consider commonly seen characteristics of myself. I've lost them since, and I want them back. As much as I love Disney, I could throttle the people responsible for making me believe that everyone gets a happy ending, that true love exists, that a story is not complete until the girl gets the guy and the guy gets the girl. I know I am not alone in this. It is extremely difficult to try and understand (or even want to understand) that not every story ends happily. That we are made up of so many stories, and each of them can be important and a learning experience if we let them be. That maybe, things aren't going to work out the way you want them to. That maybe, everything's not going to be okay. You're not going to be okay.

That's such a stretched phrase, isn't it? Anytime something goes wrong, that's the first thing friends and loved ones tell you: "It's going to be okay." So then, are we just supposed to expect that everything is, in fact, going to be "okay" and completely neglect preparing for what else may happen? What happens if everything's not "okay"?

I am not being pessimistic. I am trying to be logical. I usually have such a hard time being logical, and much prefer to be romantic and impulsive. To be honest, I much prefer my romantic and impulsive side to my logical side. But I need to try and realize it's time to face the possible truth: things don't always work out. People leave, lie, and leave you broken.

I, currently, am broken. I have been broken. These impending months petrify me. I don't do sadness, in a specific interpretation of the phrase. I do not handle trauma well, and do not recover well, emotionally or otherwise. I partake in destructive behavior, do things that make me not like myself. Temporary release and distraction can be so sweet. To be honest, it is almost impossible for me to see the light at the end of the tunnel right now. I feel empty most of my days.

But I am lucky. Because people care about me. In particular, a friend who has now become a best friend has been more than I could have asked for. Everytime I drown and desperately need saving, she is my lifeboat. She stands among others, a group of people who have helped me and carried me beyond a place I could ever have asked them to. They are what keep me afloat right now.

And above all, I am trying to recognize that this all has proven to me that I can love, and that I am capable of being loved. Maybe it wasn't right, and didn't end on my terms. But it was there. And it mattered. And it will happen for me again.

I know I will continue to feel like all of this is unfair, that I will struggle with accepting it for, possibly, quite some time. That is my curse. But it is also one of the things I like best about myself; my childlikeness, my preference of romanticism, my ability to be easily amused. It is just nice to be acknowledged. To not deal with people pretending nothing happened, pretending everything's okay, pretending I'm overreacting. I am who I am. And I don't like to hide secrets beneath the surface. It accomplishes nothing.

That, in so many words, is how I'm feeling.