What marks my time here?

So, I've been thinking about the sort of manic depression that drove me to open a blog and start spilling secrets to complete strangers. Constipated...not giving a shit at all.

This might work for me (and my complicated life) seeing as I can't really talk to people about how I deeply feel about stuff...but writing is easier...I think...I don't have to talk and taste my tongue here, I hope.

There are so many sad stories to tell...a few happy ones too...I dunno where to start, or IF to start. All I can think of right now is baby steps baby, baby steps.

Everyday, I find that I learn something new about myself...I surprise myself...good things...bad things..still, I think to myself, 'give me regret, as long as I can keep the good memories too'...it's selfish but it's the feel-good kind of selfish. I've lost myself. I know I have two choices; find the person I was...or lose that person completely.

I think of heaven...and hell and what part of me goes here and what part of me goes there...I ain't too good to go to heaven and I ain't too evil to end up in hell...

I think of all the major decisions I need to make...and how I keep procrastinating because I'm trying to grow up... how I am too young for all the drama...and I feel too responsible to complain...I'm trying to grow up...and then I'm dying...and I'm trying to take it all in...and I'm scared...I'm really scared...

I'm scared of the things I've done...and the things I'm doing...and mostly, for the things I haven't done.

I wish I had more time...

To fix relationships...

To severe some...

To live the life I dreamed of...

Get an Ivy-League education, graduate with honors, write a hundred bestsellers, be on the cover of all the men's magazines...and the business ones too...get married to the poster boy for honest, rich and good looking, have eight children and be happy for the rest of my life. And then life happened...as I'm trying to get used to it, death is happening.

It's not fair...I'm supposed to live long enough to fix it...to take it all back.

So, I hide in my little corner and cry when I can afford to...I hide from all the friends and family who know...who think, 'ahhh, she's one strong, smart, brave kid'...I hide from people who have no idea just how fucked up I am inside...then I cry...cleanse myself...

Still, I want that Ivy League degree

I want to hug the people I care about tighter...

And not be scared that I will strike them as needy...

I want to look into my father's eyes and tell him how I truly feel...

How much I love him...

How sorry I am about his cancer...

How angry I am that I'm the only one he's told...

How grateful I am that I'm the only one he's told...

I want to sit with my brother, just like old times...

And play Mortal Kombat for hours...

To kill him a thousand times...

And let him have one flawless victory to console him...

To let him press the pad for minutes

So we can both hear the computer say, 'fatality' and laugh...and laugh...

To read his mind...

And let him read mine...

I want to tell my ex how harder it is being alone...

How it wasn't as much about how much he lied to me...

Than it is about how much I love him too much to let him deal with the drama...of my life...

How weird it is sleeping with someone else...

How every time he's inside, it feels like I'm dreaming it...

I want to tell the man I'm sleeping with how much I think I'm crazy about him...

How happy I am that he's provided something to distract me...

How I force myself to think that it's okay if he doesn't call...

Or if he doesn't text back...

It gives me something else to worry about...

I want to look in my mother's eyes and tell her I know who she really is

What she really is...

Aaaahhh, it's true...writing this is easy...

Blogging is easy.

It's easier than talking.

It's easier than acting.

It's easier than real life.