Tag / change

by girlwithlandline

GIRL SPEAKS: shamelessly crying in red balenciagas (in public)

“lets leave no words unspoken.”

at this point, ive tried everything to accept my boyfriend will be making twice what i make, as hell be transitioning into his new job tomorrow. ive tried running away from home so i can blast music and go on my clarity drives, ive tried the plain-and-simple method of “just talking it out.” ive acted out like a child, ive ranted to my circle of support.

nothing is working. its a travesty, really – with congratulations flying all around him from our friends, family, the only person left bitter is me and maybe i just resent him for that.

i had expected to grow together, but that doesnt seem to be the case either way because one job change. and theres a sudden looming air of superiority (at least how i picture it; so far no one else feels this way) and i dont even know what to say to him anymore, about anything.

its ridiculous maybe, wanting to break up with someone because theyre suddenly making more money than you, that you no longer feel satisfied because this isnt what you pictured for yourself.

today my boyfriend took me to our nearby shopping plaza (mostly for errands but also ended up staying for lunch). he feels the resentment from me and i tell him im trying, i just cant be happy and maybe im just a selfish bitch for not being satisfied with anything in my life lately.

i called it “our last supper” – not because were ending, but i get this gut feeling that everything is about to change, the second his hourly worth is higher than mine, when he subconsciously transitions into the finance fuckboy we all know and love to hate.

i dont want him to be like his dad, controlling his mom to the point where she barely speaks. i dont want to be like my aunt, whos hid in the garage from her husband – a doctor, even – because she was fucking terrified and money equals power.

im convinced hes going to change (with the money and the power), and i dont want him to change.

“our last supper” – the only bit of normalcy that i have left to cling onto, our last time between us where we are equals.

no words left unspoken – because i told him this after two valiums and two glasses of champagne, sobbing in my red balenciaga sunglasses in the french restaurant at the farmers market portion.

“and save regrets for the broken.”

and i keep wondering if ill regret it, if i just moved out today, cut ties and ran away indefinitely this time. if ill regret not letting him in, for all the resentment i hold for him, for the self-pity i shower myself in.

its getting harder and harder for him to love because im a difficult bitch. and i know im hurting him, being vengeful even by building my wall up all because of a stupid fucking job and some more money on his part.

so heres what ill do, in the words of a day to remembers “all i want”; “to keep your hopes up high and your head down low.”

of course, emo music is the mood – throwback to the 2010s era, a day to remember, bring me the horizon, and pierce the veil on a loop.

im not doing too well lately – and it shows. and if you didnt know that im drowning (both in the literal sense, but also figurative as i drown my emotions out with pills), the music playlist as of late should show you all.

so ill continue listening to my emo playlists, cry in public from the distress and pain of just simply existing, try to play nice with my boyfriend who has done nothing except try to better himself.

maybe i can try the same, to better myself so i have other things to think about besides the fact hes better than me. just not today, crying has completely obliterated my energy.

GFY, fleur (in the red balenciagas)

by girlwithlandline

GIRL SPEAKS: selective mutism

i can pin point when it all started, when i just stopped talking, opting to bottle every emotion i had and letting the heaviness (the burden of carrying this weight) rot me from the insides. it was memorial day weekend of 2019, my return home after graduating from college and learning to navigate (or at least trying to) a long-distance relationship with my boyfriend after living with him for months.

i hate change. maybe thats obvious at this point. too much change, and i crack completely (orchid children or whatever they call it, the fragile ones prone to breaking).

i hated living in houston for pretty much the entire time that i was there for college, retreating back to my hometown the second i finished my last in-person final, spirit flights purchased on impulse out of the need to be home.

you changed that. my last year in houston was by far my favorite, and its all thanks to you. i owe you for that, for making the best year of my houston/college experience, for being part of my story; i cherish those days when things between us were just easy, light and i just really fucking loved you.

i was happy. maybe the happiest id ever been.

i dont even know if im capable of that happiness anymore.

and on my final year, i found myself struggling to let go of that dirty, old houston apartment, even though the apartment has smelled like cat piss since we moved in and no amount of baking soda or professional cleaners and products had been able to successfully eliminate the atrocious scent. but that apartments important, monumental; because thats where we began, thats where our story started.

sometimes i wonder if those days are gone for good, that our lives together will ever feel as pivotal as it was back then and all i needed was you. and i wonder if we hold on to these memories too tightly, and were just lying to ourselves to try to make “us” work.

what changed between us? did we already reach our peak, and all thats destined is the inevitable fall?

i need clarity, so fucking badly (ive even reached out to my psychic, since all her predictions have come to pass and the universe refuses to offer me a sign).

and i cant stop thinking about when things went south with us, why i cant stop snapping at you lately, what happened between us to make conversations more scarce to the point of just pure silence. i cant stop being a bitch to you and i know im going to push you away, and maybe i already have.

i miss “us,” the old “us,” and i mourn that loss everyday as i continue to give you the silent treatment, plotting my escape to my parents house just for the sake of running away.

im shutting you out – i know i am. i just cant help it, imagining the worst case scenarios, that youll leave me because i dont think i make you happy.

maybe theres still a part of me that resents you for putting me through a long-distance relationship in the first place (through no fault of your own). youre here now; physically, i guess i am too but mentally, ive been checked out, engulfed in my own world, consuming thoughts.

you werent there when i needed you the most and maybe theres a part of me thats unable to forgive you for that. you werent there that night my 16 year-old maltese passed away, when i received that frenzied phone call from my parents while out to dinner with our friends. they said he wasnt able to hold his head up, and doesnt seem to be lucid, that were losing him.

you werent there when my mom told me my nanny/my third grandmother died due to surgery complications when i was in my last semester of college. my parents never fucking told me when it happened. conveniently my mom had to tell me this immediately after my dogs passing (great timing, mother).

it signaled an end of an era – the end of college, the end of childhood itself with the combined losses of my dog and my nanny, someone i had gone to visit each time i returned. the last time i saw her, i had a breakdown. maybe even then, i knew i would never see her again.

too much change, too many endings – so i stopped talking. i shut the world off, closing the blinds and surrounding myself with my thoughts. i kept (keep) everyone at a distance, and the shift was palpable.

these days it seems like anger is my primary reaction to everything, and i cant seem to find a balance in any aspect of my life; not with my boyfriend, not with my friends, not within myself.

“im gonna tell you how it is, dont give a shit about how you feel.”

im trying to find my voice again, to have the ownership and power of my own words. i need to be in control of my life again.

“look me right inside my eyes and you tell me the truth.”

what exactly do you even see anymore?

emptiness and sadness built on resentment, selective mutism, and the refusal to forgive, but maybe a slight glimmer of hope (the light at the end of the tunnel). thats what youll see.

GFY, fleur

by girlwithlandline

GIRL WITH SHORT HAIR: a creature-of-habit dreads change

when i was five, i received underwear as a birthday present, a gift from my then-best friend’s mom. she had assumed my family was so completely broke, unable to afford any clothing for me other than the only jeans she ever saw me in, worn out and tattered, covered with patches added weekly to cover the holes, and the two sweatshirts i wore interchangeably, for year’s on end.

it was an act of charity.

at twenty-five, i find bittersweet humor in that moment — five year-old me with straight bangs, wearing a lime green tee with the little mermaid embroidered onto it, eagerly shredding the pink wrapping paper to reveal a three-set of powderpuff girls underwear.

at five years-old, i was unaware and oblivious of how others perceived me. i didn’t give a shit what you thought about me — words like self-conscious and insecure didn’t resonate. i was just happy to exist in my own brain space, a place where i played pretend and based my identity around whichever character i fixated on.

i was obsessed with disney’s a bug’s life, a phase in my childhood where my entire life was dictated by the film — my mother fondly recalls me rejecting my real name to my kindergarten teacher and insisting on going by the name of flik. donning either the forest green crewneck with a graphic of flik’s face or the pink fleece with an embroidering of atta, i embodied my infatuation.

so maybe things haven’t changed that much since i was a kid — sure, my world doesn’t revolve around a bug’s life anymore but old habits die hard and sometimes, the only thing that keeps me from forgetting the past is resisting the change that evolves over time.

time-and-time again, i still find myself refusing to try anything new. theres a comfort that comes with consistency, the word “change” forbidden and overwhelming for all the unknowns it can bring. its fear of the unknown, really.

girl who orders the same dishes each and every time we dine out (if girl even eats – thanks, adderall); girl who cant admit to herself that her current living situation with three (previously, four) roommates cant last forever because she cant stand the idea of being alone; girl whos kept the unbrushed and messy ombre hair for years just because one of her infatuations said he loved it.

i lopped off my hair in september 2020, and it was a change that terrified me. its the letting go, the tidal wave of emotions, the new starts and the endings – truly, the end of an era. a time for new beginnings and moving on from my past self, my identity.

so maybe thats what it comes down to – loss of identity. can you even lose your identity if you dont know who the fuck you are?

sometimes, im certain of who i am – a mid-grade hoarder, who cant stand the thought of my belongings being (feeling) lost or seeing food tossed from the fridge even if i dont really eat; loud typer at work with my headset volume turned to 100 to block out the noise, both in my head and in the outside world; lover of youngboy and someone whos mood is determined for the rest of the day by a song; a girl with heightened emotions and the occasional outbursts and a great fear of rejection or being disliked.

the occasional people pleaser, but also someone whos not afraid to cuss you out and threaten you with her plastic “brass knuckles” cat keychain when crossed or spoken to in the wrong way. and i know i anger people too. i do it on purpose, poking the bear and being a pain in the ass (for fun).

for someone who wants people to like her, i sure have a way of pushing peoples buttons and burning bridges, caution tape wrapped around dead friendships because i always leave first (before i am left). i make plans i never intended on keeping in the first place, i cancel last minute and i dont reply for weeks (or maybe ever).

most days, i have no fucking idea who i am, what my purpose in this lifetime is other than to play karma and be the vengeance that other people deserve (and asked for).

i dont know who the fuck i am. but i have short hair now, permed silky smooth, a 180 to how my hair was previously, a cleanse of my past. and i wish cutting my hair (the thing i dreaded the most as a kid), suddenly gave me a better understanding of who i am and why im here.

and maybe im still learning to let go, traumas hidden in the shadows as i continue to run from them, the lessons learned never truly sinking in. maybe ill never be ready to let go, because moving on from the past traumas threaten my fragile identity as it stands.

so maybe thats who i am – girl afraid of the future, but also afraid of the past, just passing the days by lying to herself (and others) while simmering internally with anger.

GFY, fleur