Tag / tumblr

by girlwithlandline

GIRL SPEAKS: it means too much to me

the expectations i set for myself are so high, yet i look around and i cant help but think that everyone else sets the bar so low for me. i get applause for not hurting myself, for getting out of bed before noon on weekends, for not being a massive cunt to my boyfriend because im petty and jealous that he makes over double my salary now (and im still being petty and jealous, and i just cant fucking stop).

sometimes it feels like nothing is expected out of me, that i exist as a translucent ghost, half there but half not. im sleepwalking through life, stumbling along the way with lack of direction and fear of the future. maybe nothing fucking matters and were all destined to be unhappy and unsatisfied with ourselves.

is this the downfall of humanity?

i expect more out of myself – my life has to mean more than this. otherwise whats the fucking point?

i had more purpose to my life at 17 than i do now, and its just shitty knowing that i might have passed my peak already (while also severely depressed but at least i was helping people via tumblr), and all the future holds is the dreaded fall.

why does anything matter?

why does it matter if im the skinniest in the room, if my stories are more mesmerizing than everyone elses, if i can be a siren to those tinder boys from years ago who have continued to crawl back on all fours? does it even matter that my words (breakups are best done through text) can shatter others, and i just laugh as they grasp for pieces?

it all matters to me – everything matters. and the competitive demon in my brain bitches at me to win despite the cost.

but im never going to live up to what i want.

want-want-want – its all so selfish really. maybe im selfish (and so fucking materialistic), because im not enough and i feel inferior compared to everyone else.

my boyfriend wants me to celebrate the small successes – not wanting to kill myself after working in the office today (unlike yesterday); starting a new therapist despite how much i adored my old one; surviving my weekend work conference despite being a hot mess while getting completely plastered on the tour bus, resulting in me vomiting in front of everyone.

he encourages me to pursue new work opportunities, try out my field in the entertainment industry, search for a more corporate work environment – but i dont know if thatll make me happy.

i scoff at the blind optimism, that everything will magically “work out” one day. and whenever it is (happiness or at least content), it feels so fucking far.

im never going to amount to much, and im telling him to accept that. ill just float, in my make believe world, where feelings dont exist and everything is numb – the only time silence is desired.

i think my thoughts are destroying me. i think im destroying myself, my relationship, but i cant stop it.

sometimes i think everyone just lies to me to keep me happy because lets be honest, ive been volatile like a loose canon for the past month or so (probably longer but more consistently these days). no one quite knows what to expect with me anymore, and i think something is wrong with me.

i cant stop lashing out, having complete meltdowns and ugly cries behind closed doors; yet some moments are ok, and everything feels stable for a second despite all the sudden changes. but honestly, all the days are hard.

i tend to hold back unless there is a guarantee of success – say its my fear of rejection, the privileged life i was given but also the competition i was faced with (and traumatized by). im afraid of the truth, and itd break me to find out that im complete shit at something thats so important to me, something i love.

i dont want to say i love writing (i guess i do, and as a former tumblr girl, im just retreating to old ways in this bout of depression). it means too much to me.

and i dont want to ruin it (yet here i am). jokes on me, i guess.

GFY, fleur

by girlwithlandline

GIRL WITH BLOG: my intention was never for this to be depressing

is the glass half empty or half full?

glass half empty (10000%).

maybe i expect the worst of everything. i mean, the worlds a fucking shitshow. im a mess and i cant clean myself up. i cannot accept reality yet im angry at this world, the higher powers or whatever karmic universe that controls us like puppets from the beyond.

and this was never my intention: a repeat of my tumblr days, my continued qualms with life itself. this was supposed to be fun – about the memories i want to keep.

“i wanna paint down my memories, so i dont forget.”

and ive forgotten so much – scatterbrained, empty-minded and stumbling my way through. memories are all thats left and im ashamed and terrified of all that ive forgotten, moments that meant something but i was too black-out to recall.

“the darkness doesnt have any answers.”

and thats what it call comes down to – the vulnerability, the pain, the heaviness. looking for answers in the wrong places, my darkness.

the feeling that the world owes me for what its taken, whats lost. anger, geared at anyone who dares step into my war path. i hate. and i keep hating people, circumstances, the way life plays out. i hate the higher powers who clearly havent given a flying fuck, watching us scramble, tittering to each other as we suffer.

“what happened to us?”

in my world, its so fucking black and white. tiptoeing that fine line between love and hate, walking on thin ice thats crackling with every step. instability? clarity? who the fuck knows.

im taking my anger out on all the wrong people – but theres just so much to be livid about. and if there was a blinking red *SOS* button in my brain to turn it all off – the “stop using others as a human punching bag”, the guilt of brainfog and lack of memory, tragedy.

and in this world, are we just infatuated by the idea of love or is it remotely possible to be in love (if we dare admit it)? is it real love? or love due to convenience?

why is it so hard for me to admit love or show that i care?

i dont know. i guess im still trying to find the answers to that one.

and lastly, “people always leave.”

and it was never my intention to hurt those i love the most.

but its easier to be the one leaving. its easier to give someone reasons to leave you, self-sabotage to barricade the lonely heart, the one who plays the mindgames and tests the other as vulnerability lingers above me – the enemy, like a black cloud.

it was never my intention, my 2013 angsty tumblr days (take two).

and im not really sure what to do anymore. maybe were all broken, and we just learn to deal – to function – as if we were shattered pieces of a porcelain doll, precariously pasted back together with an elmers gluestick. maybe were all hot fucking messes who cover it up with fake smalltalk, cheap facades to hide who we really are underneath the mask, the things weve mourned, the shit life has put us through, the truths and realities we want to bury.

my intention for this blog was so i could remember – the good and the bad, cherished moments and moments where i need a safe space to empty out my thoughts.

im just trying to find the healing in all of this – in writing, in music, in art. to have faith in people, and not thinking the worst in everybody right off the bat.

im just trying.

and thats probably all i can ask for right now.

GFY, fleur