Can't have everything

Why can't I be happy and still be able to write? Every time I come on here happy I get just a little depressed and then when I try to write I either can't do it or I have to let go of the fragile happiness I been holding so dearly. I'm not sure writing is worth it, maybe it's better just to let it go, but I was so hoping to have both.

Anything at all

What would you be if you had the ability to change into anything? But you can only change once and you can not go back. Would you change at all? Would you become a big terrifying monster who could crush anyone in your path? There's a price to pay for that life. Would you shrink, to the smallest creature imaginable so small no one would see you much less care. And if they don't care they can't hurt you. You could all but disappear. No, there's a price for that life too.

Change

What are you willing to give for stability? And what about happiness? The two are not the same, it fact they're resisting forces. You have to give in and change or you'll break. If you're counting until it's not your decision and you can no longer resit change- and I've heard you counting- then it's time to do it.

I just need to keep this email from my Dad I don't know why I just do...


"I do not see any humour in this. We are both trying to get our jobs done and neither of us needs this kind of crap disturbing our work. We go out of our way to help you out. We take you almost anywhere you want to go. We prepare meals for you and do your laundry to ensure you can go to school and work. We clean up the house after you. We sew on your badges for cadets and cover the cost of you going to the Y. We are paying for your camp this summer with the jobs you are trying to keep us from doing. We rushed home on Saturday so you could be picked up from work incase you did not have a key. And for all we do we ask very little. If you feel you can handle those things yourself and do not want to be a part of our family by helping us out keep up your bull shit and you will find out how far we can be pushed. Do what ever you want today. Stress out your mother all day long because it WILL be the last time it happens. You get a hell of a lot more out of us than we get out of you so go ahead and see how much you can live without. You have had all day to clean your room. It is now 2:30. In two hours you should be able to get most of it done"

New Attitude

I find this new attitude kind of concerning. I'd be a little taken back and not all together trust you if you were "just playing nice". But it's not just that is it? You're being weird. You're stopping mid way through an insult. Trying to hid your disappointments. Masking the pain. It's almost is if you're trying. I just can't figure out why.

FUCK

Well fuck. It's back; the constant reminder of the fact, I AM NOT FUCKING GOOD ENOUGH. The feeling in the bottom of my stomach making me drag myself though every day. She's back or at least she's coming back. Well she never left. Her voice is low and raspy now but it's getting clearer I can hear it. "You pathetic fucking wast of space DO SOMETHING WITH YOUR GOD DAM LIFE". She threatens me, laughs at me, and she knows everything. She knows my past my weak spots and she knows exactly what to do to make me hurt. And I can't hide it she knows. Well FUCK.

Writing

Writing is a lot like vomit, when you get inspired it just comes. Then you have to clean it up.