Hold Still

I read a book today. And I got lost in it. Got lost in between the words and sentences, filling up the small spaces between the letters. Got so lost that my life didn’t matter. And when I surfaced it was with a confused feeling. As if to say, “How did I find myself here?” 

The fog still hasn’t lifted from my mind. I’m still lost. 

I want to do this to people. I want to make them lost. I want to make them come find me. 

That way, when in the middle of the night I hear ghosts and voices of the past whispering to me, they will be sitting there - all of those readers. Sitting with their legs crossed underneath them, lounged into chairs, or stretched out in bathtubs. And I won’t feel so alone anymore. 

I won’t feel like I haven’t accomplished anything. 

I’ll smile at them and see the fogged looks in their eyes, and I’ll whisper. “Don’t worry, keep turning the pages. There is always more ahead.” 

Honey, I’m going through the EXACT same thing with Tim…. ;o; *clings* I love you, Kelsey.

I love you too. -snuggle- 

It matters in a way that I simply can’t explain

I don’t like feeling like everything I thought I ever knew is wrong. I hate feeling like things that go further back than a year are wrong. And yet there is nothing really I can do about it. Every time I try to come up with something that truly was correct in my mind, it’s negated. Every time I think of something that was so solidly based in truth – it turns out to be wrong.

It’s getting annoying.

It’s getting unnerving.

It’s getting hurtful.

There was a time in my life where I thought I knew him like the back of my hand. I was always right when he would do certain things. I knew exactly what the thought process was behind them. It was comforting in a way, knowing that I did know that much about a person, but it was also a curse, because it rarely turned out well for me.

But now?

Now I have to question how much of this was right.

How much of this was truly the truth.

How much of this was a lie?

And that makes me uncomfortable. I don’t like looking back on my life and not being able to tell the truth from the lies. I don’t like looking back and wondering if there was something else going on between every good memory I have. I don’t like other people telling me things that leads to the few good memories I have left being tainted in this unknown color.

But most of all. I don’t like not having someone to ask. I don’t like that even if I ask the one person who knows the answer, I can’t trust that it’ll be the truth.

It’s weird that this hurts so much right now. It’s weird because I don’t love him anymore. Not in the way I did. A part of me will love the person I first knew, but none of me loves this person he is now. And not even a single percentage of me wants him in any way I did before. I just don’t want his life to go to shit, any more than it already has.

I don’t hate him.

But I can’t say I like him either.

It just hurts because it throws me into this unknown place. I don’t like having the rug pulled out from under me. I don’t like finding out all these ugly truths about things I was naïve to. I don’t like it when someone taints a memory I have, a memory I find good. I don’t like it when people change how I look back on my life, and how I remember things.

I don’t like questioning what happened. Because I’m never going to get the answers.

I don’t like it when people tell me that he does this to everyone. That doesn’t surprise me now. This past year and a half, yes I can see that he was just fucking with anyone and everyone he ever could for whatever reason. But anything further back than that? I don’t like it when people tell me that every girl he’s ever gone out with has the exact same feelings I do. Went through the exact same things I did.

I don’t like being indirectly told that my first love was a complete lie. That I was never anything special. Ever.

I don’t care if I am now, it doesn’t matter if I am now. But I thought I was then. I thought that the person I met was  a different person than the one that is now burning away his life. I thought that this person I knew like the back of my hand thought I was someone special. I liked having these thoughts. I liked looking back and thinking that there was a moment when I was with him for a reason, and that I did genuinely matter to someone.

Because I don’t want to look back on Disneyland and wonder if it ever meant anything. I like the memories I have.

But everything is tainted in lies, and there is nothing worse than having a question and never getting the answer.

Because I can ask it all I want. I can ask it anyway I want. I can ask it for years to come.

But all I am going to get in return is a lie. And even if it isn’t a lie – there’s no way of knowing.

And that breaks a small part inside me that really hates being lied to. A small part inside me that wants answers to questions because if nothing else….

I deserve the damn truth.

Finished Mockingjay today.

There’s this weird feeling of loss that won’t leave me. 

Damn my ability to be sucked into books. 

I don’t want to surface for this mundane life where I go to class. 

Only 6 more days, and yet it feels like 6 more years. 

Got a new phone. Yay Droid.

imflylikequidditch:

:)

Welcome to the club! :D