"It’s important to make someone happy, and it’s important to start with yourself."-(via 154mm)
I think it’s time to start being honest with myself. I can’t sleep and this is a rant.
Sometimes I feel as if I’ve never been special enough to anyone to be treated as gold, as love and life.
A lot to ask. I know.
I want to be one and only in the eyes of love and treated as nothing less than Princess Sidney.
A lot to ask.
I like to think I deserve it. I like to think I deserve commitment, priority and honesty.
I’m nothing flawless. I’ve got my scars, I’ve got my suspicions and my trust issues. I’ve got my temper and my passion for what I believe.
"Come as you are" means a lot to me.
You love someone forever or you never loved them at all. Infatuation.
I’m done saying I like to think I deserve things.
I deserve to be treated as a princess, I deserve commitment and all the best things.
I’m also done looking down on myself. I am who I am when I can’t sleep at night and the thoughts are driving me crazy.
I’ve come far. Done things I thought of never do. Took a few wrong turns and turned right back around and went back the right way. I -am- strong.
I am independent. I am flawed, though genuine.
I’ll accept nothing less but the love and kindness I want and strive to give.
I’ve been fucked over more times than I can count. This won’t be the last time it will happen. But I won’t take it laying down anymore.
I’m done being afraid of my thoughts, to voice them. They’re being voiced right now, in word.
Thanks to a brilliant new friend I’m becoming close with, I’ve realized these things about myself and have never felt better.
I don’t need anyone but myself in this world. Company is nice, but I can’t need any longer- I don’t need.
What are you -really- supposed to do, when everything is so monotonous and completely dull that you can’t enjoy one damn thing?
Blinking my eyes piss me off. Taking a shower has become so completely repetitive that I can’t help but scream in frustration. Any texts that make my phone go off, get ignored, not read, and my phone gets thrown into a wall. Repeatedly.
Things that brought me joy now just sicken me and raise a disgusting feeling in my stomach, and I hate every second of them. Going outside to smoke a cigarette is a -feat-, one that is not so easily accomplished. It’s -frustrating-.
As if there’s a pit in my stomach, it is never filled. A hole in my chest, that burns with every breath I take.
There is -no- motivation.
It seems I live a goal-less life. No end goal, no goals for tomorrow. The only ‘goal’ I’ve got is to sleep through the night and hope these fucking dreams go away.
I don’t want anyone loving me. I’m sick of the love confessions. I’m sick of the obligation to respond they bring. I’m sick of caring for others feelings when my own are driving me crazy. I can’t take this much longer.
In all honesty, it’s like I’m wasting away despite my struggles against things. Like my head’s been shoved under water and I can’t get it back up.
I’ve never thought emotions could hurt this bad. Yet they do, and they’re stronger than they ever have been before.
But most of all? I’m sick of hiding my opinions for the greater good. Holding my tongue has never done me any good. Ever.
Most people can fuck right off. I don’t mind if they never spoke to me again. It’s not like many people speak to me -anyways-, unless they need an ear to talk to, or someone to bitch at, or someone to completely fucking degrade.
It seems like I’m the go-to when it comes to that. Everyone likes to degrade me. I like to degrade me, too.