Tag / sadness

by girlwithlandline

GIRL SPEAKS: desiring stability while creating chaos

its no secret that i was (am) an agent of chaos. maybe ive always been, getting a high out of getting a reaction out of people, catfishing all those desperate, horny tinder boys for the fun of it all (its so easy to pretend to be someone youre not), testing those closest to me just to poke the bear.

i like to stir the pot – i dont really know why. i dont understand my need for ruining the bonds i have with those i cherish most, the self-sabotage of it all. maybe in my own fucked up fashion, i want to see if they care. after all, actions speak louder than words.

i need to see if they care (and self-doubt creeps in, the happiness blockage that tells me im not good enough), whether they can save me when i cant even save myself.

i destroy everything i touch. and i cant fucking help it.

maybe in the end of the day, theres still a part of me that feels like i dont deserve any of it; not my friends, whove given support and nourishment in times of need, the ones whove survived all the rough patches of my emotional turmoil, check-ins via text to reassure me that they give a shit about me; not my boyfriend, not the daily morning coffee he makes me, the patience of someone who has to tolerate my antics, the attention and care that he and i both know i crave and need, the small acts of love and affection (or maybe just love as a whole).

and sometimes i wonder whether i deserve someone toxic and manipulative, someone like me; i wonder if im ruining my boyfriends life and that i should just let him go (let him be free). i want him to be happy, to be free from all the chaos i carry and represent – he can have someone he doesnt have to coddle because theyre too ill to take care of themselves, probably a nice but bland girl, quiet and on par with his calmness, someone who never gives him as much pushback as i do.

he will never find someone like me, someone with the stories (and the trauma), dark humor that even my therapists have laughed at. but maybe chaos and stability just dont mix and he deserves better.

id like to think i have the stability part down, at least externally (internally, not so much).

does it make me selfish if i pity myself but i have a good life?

minuscule happenings, unpredictable circumstances that transform into emotional monstrosities, until they materialize into a beast of its own, the battles that cant be won without the hurt – and ill continue to break whats unbroken (just because i can), and ill still shatter each time i purposely cause problems, ruin things.

having a good life but a brain that eggs me on to self-sabotage because i dont deserve any of this, ill keep on shattering, the master of my own hell.

GFY, fleur

by girlwithlandline

GIRL SPEAKS: “and our hearts still beat the same”

i dont have much to say these days. i turn the world off, tune out the noise by blasting la dispute, hole, tonight alive on repeat through my airpods, crawling back into my safe space as i try to make right with the world, my world (and myself).

im okay, i think – or as okay as one can be under these circumstances.

im trying, okay?

my life feels a little less heavy this week – maybe its the louboutins (courtesy of my boyfriend, more about this later), maybe im tired of feeling sorry for myself for no reason in particular. maybe its because people do give a shit about me, im just too disconnected and detached to realize.

maybe its just time to heal, or at least attempt to, before things are too broken to repair.

i need to fix my relationships with others (most notably my boyfriend, because lets be honest, im kind of a high-maintenance pain-in-the-ass); to save what we have left or find the love and infatuation that connected us in the first place – i dont really know.

i need to heal my relationship with myself, stop the self-loathing for never feeling like im enough, for always wanting more, the inferiority and bullshit of it all.

and quite honestly, i dont know where the fuck to start and its all just overwhelming, wanting to be something but not having the motivation or the discipline that it takes to achieve the “goals” id (want) to strive for. and in the end it all comes down to my laziness, maybe even my lack of potential.

and then there are the facts, the familiar patterns that ive engrained into my life, my stupid fucking brain.

i know that i dont want to live in the shadows forever, concealed by this darkness (heaviness) i find belonging and safety in. the thoughts of inferiority have caused me to spiral out of control, so now its time for me to realize (discover?) what i bring to the table.

i also know i dont want to be alone.

i push people away, i know i do.

but everyone needs to grow up at some point (or pretend to), and i realize that not all love is fake and that not all love can be taken granted for.

and my mother says to me: “please treasure him.”

and im trying to – to not speak to him in harsh tones, to learn to control the toxicity and negativity that i project onto him (the bitterness ive held thats outlasted the distance), to not resent him for his shortcomings or his successes, even if they make me feel inferior.

teamwork – thats what im trying to drill into my head, that in order to make this work, we need to be playing for the same side. we shouldnt be pitted against each other – over who can be more petty about money and reckless spending, over who can hurt the other more with words spoken out of spite or stupid, passive aggressive actions.

i dont want to lose you – i cant lose you. i guess thats what it means when you date your best friend and theres just too much to lose.

“your hands still catch the light the right way and

our hearts still beat the same,

and our hearts still beat the same.”

– la dispute, “nobody, not even the rain”

and through music and one tree hill, maybe we can find our way back to each other. la dispute puts it best: scars will remain.

they will but i cant guarantee another broken, beating heart that matches mine nearly as well as yours does.

that has to count for something, right?

GFY, fleur

p.s. tbh this whole post is horrible and i kind of hate it idk why i decided to word VOMIT but im learning not to bottle up emotions so here goes (enjoy my chaos). i cannot live in my head forever

by girlwithlandline

GIRL SPEAKS: in my feelings

“im smoking while im runnin’ on my treadmill,

but im cutting up roses,

could it be that i fell for another loser.”

– lana del rey, “in my feelings”

maybe theres a part of me that just loves losers, pathetic and sad people who just need me, those willing to bend backwards to please me. its narcissistic (i know) – to having a running mental list in your head of those you know you are better than. then there are those you dont even bother competing with at all because youll never win.

and i need to win. i always need to win and “enough” will never truly satisfy me.

i need to prove myself. it seems like no one comprehends why i need to prove myself, why being “just me” isnt good enough or worthy in my eyes.

lately, ive been thinking that my need (drive) to prove myself is less to show the outside world that i matter. i need to prove to myself that i matter, that i have a contribution and a voice.

we have empty dreams of making a difference, leaving our marks on this world – legacy, name, whatever. maybe were all just terrified of being forgotten and left behind when the world continues to orbit and i just exist, stagnant.

ive always loved losers – tinder fuckboys like roaches, the ones who always come back to regain a lost past; the temporary friends i paraded around like minions, constantly at my beck-and-call and friendship defined by my terms.

i cant stand being told what to do. but i love the power in telling others what to do.

tell me what i should be doing and the vessels in my brain snap – i explode. i guess i dont do well with authority, or superiority, or any of the like.

and losers always provided me with that – the superiority i so desperately crave (need), the attention-seeking and ego-feeding infiltrating my brain so that i can feel worthy, even if its temporary.

maybe it just takes one to know one – they are all fucking losers and im a loser too, and we just live in a world of degenerates who are essentially aimless but fake goals and pretend that the universe actually gives a shit about you or your damaged ego.

my boyfriend has proved hes not a loser – with his six figure salary, high profile job, a life that seems so fucking put together im not sure where i fit in anymore. i had envisioned our intertwined lives finding our way together under disturbed, unexpected circumstances but it turns out the world despises me and strives to punish the shit out of me despite the fact that im actively trying.

im trying so hard every fucking day – to fake that smile and radiate positivity, to pretend everything ok, just fucking ok.

and at this point, maybe its time to make nice with myself and face the facts: i am a fucking loser, who loves looking down on other losers because those are the only people beneath me in this mental hierarchy ive created within my universe.

maybe some things will never change and we just have to accept the shitty hand were given.

keep faking it – it might not pay off, but at least youll fool everyone around you.

GFY, fleur

by girlwithlandline

GIRL SPEAKS: 7 years later

i remember when i had first spoken to you – september 18, 2010; a date thats been engrained in my memory, the password to my iphone for all thats worth.

i was 19 when you died (it still feels so strange saying that you had died – even more bizarre that its been over 7 years since then and the words still sting). when i first learned that you had passed away, it was like a sucker punch to the gut.

you were one of the strongest people i knew, and i envied you for your confidence, boldness throughout our friendship.

when did the world dull that inner radiance you wore so well?

im sorry i never tried harder to keep in touch. im still shitty at keeping in touch (too many thoughts for my little brain to process).

i still think about you. a few days ago when i was back in my parents house, back in my childhood bedroom, i went through my sophomore yearbook.

your message was the first one i saw – i mean, it was inevitable since you wrote on the cover, your note scribbled in purple sharpie, mostly written in german with a hint to use google translate. i never translated your message and maybe that was a good thing. maybe knowing what you had actually said would make it lose its magic, the mystery of it all.

in english, you had written that you love and will miss me (you were going to boarding school the following year).

im sorry i never told you how much you mean to me. its always been second nature to pretend i care less than i genuinely did (i guess i still do this – a defense mechanism and all?).

im sorry, for not telling you that i give a shit about you, that you matter. the “i love yous” mean nothing if youre not in this orbit anymore.

if i say it now, could you hear me?

and i wonder what youd think of me today, if youre currently looking down on me from wherever you are in the afterlife.

are you disappointed, are you proud?

this is my first time writing about (to) you in years. to be fair, i had a writing hiatus as i found more comfort in drugs, intoxication and recklessness to drown out the sorrows, the guilt and the regret.

i wonder if you know about all the external chaos in my life (and the internal chaos that i hold privately).

i never wanted to be, the person you see,

but thank you.

thank you for giving me the voice i needed to find so badly when i met you at 15, the boldness i held because of you (up until my 2019 breakdown). im trying to find it again.

can you help me?

i still think about you, even seven years later.

GFY, fleur

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 SPEAKS: (S)ugar (H)oney (I)ce (T)ea

id like to think im self-sufficient, despite reckless shopping on stupid expensive shit while on klonopin and the occasional treat for myself (maybe more often than most). think $100 supreme t-shirts and mini mini jacquemus joke bags that cant even fit my keys.

i make enough to support myself even though my credit card bills through the roof right now, but if i just learned how to reign in the excessive shopping i think id be able to be in a “better financial place.”

maybe the shopping has truly become an addiction, just something to fill the void in my heart because my life always feels like theres a missing chunk. the idea of a package arriving and having something to look forward to, the ownership aspect of possessing pretty things to display and show off becomes your means of moving forward, deal with the pain in the ass we call life. sometimes its hard planning for a future when you dont really have a direction.

its all so superficial, but i need it (for my wellbeing). maybe in a world thats painted by material objects and possessions, im just the byproduct of a consumer-driven, hierarchy-obsessed society.

so really, who can truly blame me?

everyone is always looking for “more.” and enough never really feels like “enough.”

theres so much pride in appearance, the vanity of it all – in clothes, designer accessories; in having your eyebrows threaded, the arched shape i like maintained; in perfectly manicured nails that scream, “im fucking put together” (my version of self-care, in its purest form).

and theres pride in my career – being validated for doing a good job from my higher ups, recognition showcased with a recent raise and five additional vacation days per year after my latest performance review. being able to support myself, the freedom to afford the things i want (kind of).

at least there was pride in my career.

im not sure why everything in my life has to translate to a competition – who holds the better stories with the biggest “wow” factor, whos the skinniest or the prettiest, whos more successful with the most income, making the most of the time theyre given.

and i know im supposed to be happy for my boyfriend and his new sparkling job offer. hes been struggling for years and ive tried (from the depth of my core) to be supportive. he had clawed his way out of university, fought his way through a severely underpaid job with barely any benefits and no overtime pay. and finally, he found a job that suddenly would pay him double the amount im paid (including my raise). six-digit salary, and im completely fucking shook.

makes one feel inferior, no?

i want to be happy for him, but its so fucking difficult to be, knowing this tremendous change would make him somehow superior to me. i dont want him to think less of me and id rather be the one to leave than be the one left.

“i think were too close for comfort / so dont rock the boat, dont calm the storm.”

all i ever wanted in a relationship was to be equals. and we had that – similar in pay, similar and shared sensitivity amongst our inner circle. the shared anxiety of wanting to be better and im doubtful he can relate now since he got his fucking wish, of making six figures – that because of that, i feel less than than him, and im no longer comfortable with him.

were not equals anymore. and growing up in a world painted by competition, i cant stop comparing myself to others, not even someone whos supposed to be my “partner” or whatever.

were not equals anymore – the scale has tipped (in his favor), the balance fucked and offset, and i lose once again.

the equilibrium is off as is (even though he starts his new job in two weeks). id rather be alone than be with someone who looks down on me.

and i dont know what this holds for me, what it means for us, and where i stand in this relationship. my bets are that everything between us is doomed to fail (but maybe its my inner pessimist speaking).

so just leave a message after the tone.

GFY, fleur

by girlwithlandline

GIRL SPEAKS: girl who spins the thread into gold

i admit that im wrong about going unnoticed, that everyone around me is just so blinded by their own lives that mine is put on the backburner. maybe it just took some triggering, toxic commentary from peripheral friends to finally push me off the edge, the courage to confront my qualms and manifest my own reality. like mount vesuvius, i finally blew the fuck up, at those who ive felt wronged by in the past, the present; at innocent bystanders that stand witness to my breakdown (via text).

as they say (cliche as fuck, i know) – a few bad apples can ruin the whole batch.

i dont hate my friends (at least not my core group). i dont think i ever can. yes, i still have qualms regarding certain people but maybe this is the sign ive been looking for, the affirmation i needed all along. maybe i just wanted to put my pain on display, tattooed on my forehead for all to see (and feel pity for, we all love some self-pity).

what i say fucking matters. and maybe it just took for me no longer giving a shit, saying the words ive held in my heart, spilled out like word vomit onto my site – my safe space – to realize that.

i dont need to be a people pleaser; i used to have my voice. i just need to find it again.

there was a palpable shift, and theres validation in knowing im not the only one who felt it, recognized it. ive been detached from the world (for quite some time now).

its not all in my head.

and i didnt used to be like this – at least not the version of me that i didnt not like. today, my friend had pointed out how i used to be loud; i was bold, unafraid to speak my mind. but at some point, i lost myself – i lost my voice, my personality, everything that ive fucking prided myself in.

and one day, the thoughts inside my head became too much to tolerate, too much loss, tragedy, and the added layer of isolation – i just crumbled.

i stopped letting people in, even those who have helped me during my darkest days (everyone except my twin, of course – she knows everything there is to know about me).

i stopped talking, letting the dark emotions engulf me, selective mutism, my vow of silence or whatever. in a way, ive stopped trying, overwhelmed by the anxiety of the world and how it orbits, the people that spin with it as i stand completely still.

i tell stories of the days when my life had shine and allure – stories of the degenerates i had surrounded myself with (the fucked up and amusement), twisted tinder dates that had shaped me into who i am, someone who was definitely entertaining and fun, but also toxic. nothing is meant to last forever, not them and not me – but at least the stories will, and they are mine to keep.

im still lost – just a shell of who i used to be, letting my personality fade away with every word unspoken, every thought or negative comment festering in my brain, making it rot away.

but once, i was one one who spun the thread into gold, and one day, ill be that person again. and the stories i create – theyll be unmatched, a spectacle thatll have its own personality and voice too.

GFY, fleur

by girlwithlandline

GIRL SPEAKS: mememe (do i sound like a joke when im talking to you?)

i hate forced positivity. its so toxic and fake, plastering on a smile for the sake of someone elses wellbeing even though your silent wounds ache.

its always about everyone else, isnt it? everyone else – anyone else but me. each day since entering 27, i just seem to get more transparent. ill eventually become one with the background, vanishing into nothing. im trapped in a soundproof glass box thats my life, and i need an escape.

phantom pain – going unspoken about, untended to. were all hurting and no one gives a damn (especially if they dont know).

theres a part of me that stays silent because i dont believe that others deserve to know what im thinking at the core, how i feel about them, whether theyve done something to bother me to the point of these happenings living rentfree.

if i said all the things i want to say, id probably be left by everyone (and maybe its time to make my peace with that).

words bite – both mine and theirs. and “forgiveness” isnt an emotional attribute that im capable of, foreign to my vocabulary completely. if i dont forget, i cannot forgive.

but silence and unknowing – that might be worse to receive versus a confrontation. forever a guessing game, and whether one rude comment would push me over the edge and the silence that follows, thats up to their own interpretation.

so ill leave apology texts unread, issues unresolved for weeks while i simmer in my anger, boiling into hatred. silent pain on both parties, but at least im in control.

theres another part of me that holds everything in my heart because i truly believe they wouldnt give a fuck, that no one gives a rats ass about me and my fragile emotions.

ive befriended my pain, my misery. its a part of me, my secret to hold, my comfort to keep. ive learned to rely on it (the misery, and no one else). maybe once youve had enough practice – years, even – of playing the role of “ok,” you become the expert of hiding behind that mask.

i guess its such an easy game.

theres a weight, a heaviness that i cant get rid of because my mind keeps whispering to me that no one cares.

mememe – i cant help but wanting to make more conversations revolve around me. and i expect everyone around me to be psychic, dancing around my expectations and creating a me-centric world.

i thrive off attention.

the third part of me knows i have a delayed reaction to anger (and most other emotions) and i cant tell if my anger and dissatisfaction is justified or all in my head.

i dont really know me (in that case). whats real, whats fake – it all blends together and love immediately transforms into hate and sometimes back again, an endless cycle depending on how much they hear me.

maybe no one really knew me to begin with.

maybe youll never know anything about me.

GFY, fleur