Every single night, I sit down in front of my laptop and tell myself to blog about something… but after typing a few empty sentences, I decided to delete the whole entry and just forget about it.
Why try to share my feelings and thoughts with other people when I don’t know what they mean myself?
I’m so confused that nothing makes sense. At all.
Where do I start?
Life has been such a whirlwind and I haven’t been blogging not because nothing’s happened, but because too many things have happened.
Firstly, me and James have broken up. Awhile ago. I was the one who called it off. Don’t ask me why or when or how or any questions…
I have too many questions that I can’t answer, questions that I ask myself everyday.
Is remaining strangely calm in an absolutely crazy situation considered being matured?
Is doing something that breaks your heart for your own “good” considered being sensible?
Everytime I sit down and think about things, it eats me up inside so much that I really don’t wanna think about it anymore.
No amount of thinking would answer my questions.
Only time will, hopefully.
But even not thinking about anything sucks, because I feel like I’m running away from my problems.
When people tell me I don’t seem to be upset that I broke up my boyfriend, I want to punch them in the face.
What do you want me to do, break down and cry in front of you?
Tired of insensivite and superficial and stupid people.
It’s hard enough to pretend that nothing’s wrong, and people have to tell it to your face that you’re a cold hearted bitch for doing so.
The only thing that’s worse is when someone who doesn’t give a shit pretends to care about you.
Whenever I was really upset in the past, I would be super moody and be crying the whole day but I’m different now.
I’m not that little girl who always expects everything to go her way and cry when they don’t anymore.
Maybe this is growing up.
But you know what sucks about growing up?
You realize that life is unfair and a lot less pleasant than it seemed to be when you were younger.
You lose a lot of faith in the way life works and in others.
The word “reality” never hits you harder.
Don’t take this the wrong way, I’m not an angsty person or depressed or anything.
In fact, if not for this blog entry, I don’t think any of my friends would have a clue about what’s going on unless I told them so myself.
I have been going out and smiling as usual.
This won’t bring me down but it will only make mea stronger person than before.
I’ll carry on with everyday life like I used to, it’s just that I feel so empty now.
On normal days, I tire myself out completely so I don’t have time to think about these things.
But on certain days, even when I’m absolutely exhausted, my thoughts still wander off to darker places somehow.
All I want to right now is listen to my favourite sad songs in the middle of the night and let them sing how I feel.
They say for loved ones, you’d do anything for them to be happy.
But what if giving them happiness meant forsaking your own?
Should I have to live in denial and regret everyday in the name of love?
What would love be about then?
I used to think that it’s ok if friends / readers / stangers don’t understand, as long as my family and boyfriend does.
But when the time comes that absolutely nobody understands…
Then what I have to say about how I feel really doesn’t matter anymore.
And you’ll never get it out of me.