Today sucked ass.
He licked the butter knife.
They say that confession is good for the soul. What they do not say is that it is fucking painful before it becomes good.
I had a full-on confession tonight about my 25 years of existence. Full disclosure. It was hard to get out for fear of judgement and it was hard to get out because the truth is fucking sad.
But there it was for the confidante to digest.
After one part of the confession, he/she said something about putting out good vibes and it occurred to me, maybe he/she was understanding what I didn’t say as well.
“I’ve never been the confident one. I’ve never felt certain ways about myself.”
So when he/she said “people take the vibe what you put out. If you put out that your attractive and fun and out there, that’s what they will see. But if you put out that your a miserable something something person, that is what they will see.”
Am I the miserable one? I do not know if that is what was meant but my eyes watered, I started a whole thing in my head. “Is that the vibe I give off? I don’t think so, I think I am pretty good at hiding what’s going on in my noggin; the things that I don’t say.”
Truth is, I am a terrible person who constantly goes in her head, who constantly thinks too much; overthinks unnecessarily.
But that is me.
I do not know how to be any one else and I do not think I even want to.
Maybe I can better me.
Maybe I will do better than try.
They say that confession is good for the soul.
Today she was asked a question
“He like her?”
To which she answered
“Yeah, I think he does”
Why did she have to say that?
I did not need to hear that, when I have inner monologues thinking of the things that were nice and overthinking the same things into dispelling feelings that he may have had.
Why did she have to go and say “Yeah, I think he does”
I am drowning.
I am tired.
I am not paid enough for this stress.
I do not have a high post for this stress.
I do not think I have ever felt this strongly about a job.
I am drowning.
I have never overestimated my chances of being remembered.
My older sister sent me a picture tonight. It’s got someone I know, but the thing is, I am sure he hasn’t got a clue about me. No I am not a stalker, or I should say I have not used my dormant stalker tendencies on him.
He is related to a job. I know his full name and I could bet a million dollars that he does not even know my first. I am sure as she tells him my name, he would be “Who??” And that is okay.
I am a behind the scenes girl anyway. Where I can observe unabashedly.
The other day I was assisting someone with a birthday party. It was for a lighter hue. I saw an adult, who I know, from the same work as the man, watching me, trying to figure out where she knows me from. She asks me something related to the task at hand, I had to clarify that I am just assisting. She then goes on to ask if I work in a store that one of her friends own no doubt. I then had to clarify “No, it’s from xxxxxx” “Ooohhhh, yes!” was her response. I have had lengthy conversations with this lady at xxxxxx, lengthy.
See? No overestimation there.
I don’t mind having little odds and ends job, and I like to witness the judging of the book by its cover, when I know it is so different.
That is a saying for a reason.
Although it is wrong; it happens
Imagine something as simple as vacation.
As a two week vacation.
Because conversation has not been had since the Wednesday before, I didn’t know when it started. Now I am not saying it was omitted purposefully, but I still feel it.
Before I found out, I was in a mood. Since WEDNESDAY ya know.
I was in a mood because I don’t know; I have no link to the outside world anymore. I do not know.
All the emotions are there swirling and knocking each other HARD like atoms in a confined space. Not being let out. There they are, in my brain, in my eyes, in my heart, in my body. For only me.
I do not even think the ones that know me see the difference, see the turmoil.
That’s just how it is.
And I hate it, I hate that that is what it’s come to.
So apparently I cannot have something I love to do. I cannot feel pain, I cannot feel sick. I cannot feel tired, nor sleepy.
I am just supposed to be thinking about making money, while not totally saving it, but not enjoying life as well. I LOVE tennis. Last year I put most of it on hold and I was miserable. I do not want to live like that again. That is most relevant because of my current situation. Can I not have something where I can be happy? Where I can see people that make me laugh and I love? It is not the most important thing, but I think being happy sure is.
Money is a big part of life, especially when you need it, but it is not more important than happiness. Being happy is HEALTHY, someone should not have stress all of the time. I am twenty-five years old, I feel as though I have aged physically for the last few months, I hate how my body feels, HATE.
So let me have this, please, I do not ask for much.
Today something solidified.
I have been replaced. There was a new friend.
I have been replaced and the reality hit me like a freight train, theoretically speaking of course, seeing as I have never actually seen a train of any variety.
Nonetheless, it fucking hurt.
Devoid of any questions; “Is this one-sided?” “Am I overthinking simple shit?” “Is something wrong?” Everything was clear. I was missed, but because it had been such a while, I had become a memory rather than a person, and then I was replaced.
I came to this realisation when we were in Trendy Kidz and my eyes started to water while we were in Detour. Of course I did not let any escape. I “yawned” like hell, because as you know; when you yawn; pressure is exerted onto the lacrimal sac, but those suckers (yawns) were faker than Dolly Parton’s boobs. They were an instrument to mask the water, if she had noticed.
Just like now, writing this, I will “yawn” so much.
She had changed too ya know. Cannot pinpoint the extact “how” but there was change, I felt it.
It was only when I turned to walk away from them, after my lunch was done, did the water returned with such fervour, they were threatening to break the damn that was currently in construction. However, they only escaped when my ass was planted firmly on the chair by the desk that I occupy.
I did not get to finish talk about Barbados. I did not get to talk about the background investigator. Did not find out anything new. There was hardly any interaction. Know the sad thing? Maybe that has become a norm. How the hell did we end up like that? I was so certain otherwise, but damn did life prove me wrong.
It was at the time the realisation pounded that I grew quiet; distant in conversation. Don’t think they noticed though. This brings me to think about a picture I once saw and probably stored, about the signs and hiding their emotions. “Scorpio; Fucking pro, they could be dying inside and no one knows.”
And while I’m here writing this, listening to music; the most fucking slowest songs on my playlist decides to play.
This is why I like books; it transports me into another world.