California Hippies are awesome.

And sometimes I become so cold that I can feel the flowers that were growing on my back unroot themselves and fall off my back. I hate being faced with having to pick sides especially if its between the people I love the most in this world. It’s almost like a civil war erupting in my mind. Maybe I am two different people trying to find similarity that just does not seem to emerge from the darkness. Besides the point, when the war starts raging I become cold, colder than an air conditioner during a heat wave. It’s time like this that I feel like I have no one to run to, talk to, support me. Two sides what two very different things yet I can not see what I want. The only thing that has been going through my mind is to simple get up, pack my favorite items into the back of my 01′ Toyota Camry and head to Cali to live with hippies and not leave the pressure I do now.

And What has become of me?

I don’t know what I want, I don’t know what I’m suppose to do, I don’t know what I feel about my situations, but most importantly, I don’t know who I am. The only thing I do know is that I’m an actual fucking mess. I don’t know how I got myself in this state of mind. I don’t know how to fix this, I think I need some professional help. For fuck sake I don’t even know how to ask for that help. I think I’m sad, I think I need to leave and not come back for a while. I think I cant be around anyone anymore. I think I need to be alone so that I can just learn that I need myself and only myself.

Why?

I’m on my tumblr app and I’m scrolling through my dashboard when I came across this post that just made me cringe for a second. It was not serious or dramatic but in a sense it still made you think. It was a poorly drawn picture of a man who’s head was more rectangular than circular, holding a martini glass and next to this black and white drawing was a sentence. This small run-on of a sentence doesn’t seem influential and the artist’s choice of font, which was Comic-sans, didn’t make it seem like the artist wanted viewers to take it seriously. Maybe the creator of this little piece believe no one was going to pay attention to him/her or maybe he/she didn’t want to over dramatize his reality to others. Or he/she simply didn’t want to others to draw assumptions that he/she is a attention seeking individual. In the end the point of the piece was to help others realize that living with a mental illness is not comfortable and not comfortably spoken about. My point is in the sheer second it took me to scroll down a little more, I put myself in that person’s place. To be honest, it actually scared me at how alone I felt. Why is it that there are so many things that are spoken publicly, yet an actual illness is a subject to “uncomfortable” to speak publicly just because its not physical or seen or because not many people can relate. No, when someone is physically sick with a terrible disease people speak freely about it and give it the attention it deserves while a mental illness is hushed into the comfort of our homes? I can’t say for myself, if I had a mental illness that I would speak publicly about it because maybe that’s is just the individuals way of character, where they wish to keep to themselves, but if I did I would like to know that I can speak freely about it and not be suppressed, hushed, or judged. My point is that anyone with a mental illness deserves the same or even more attention because that’s already an uncomfortable life why should anyone make it more uncomfortable.

Painfuller than I thought

I feel like the coldness start to enter my heart again, all the warmth that took you so long to establish is slowly leaking out now and it’s our doing. Together we are killing this relationship and you found someone else that better suits your alcohol and I’m alone again like you said I’d never be again. I hope you treat her better this time than the last time to had her. As for me I’ll slowly undo myself and figure out why this happened again. No, don’t tell me you love me, because you don’t anymore and I realize this when its too late. I left you in America and you found someone else while I was gone causing us to break and shatter ourselves out of guilt . And the slower your responses come and the less interested they are I know you’re thinking about her and you’re angry I left but I trusted you and now it’s gone. And I’m left with nothing but pain.

And I do this to myself….

Every time you decide to ask me a question involving about what you mean to me, It’s always going to be the same answer; everything. You mean everything to me. You’re the reason why I hold my sheets so close to me, the reason why I can’t eat anymore, the reason why I put on makeup to cover up the bags under my eyes, the reason why I’ve cried recently, but most importantly you are the reason I can’t seem to leave this state of mind. At this point my life revolves around you, and yet for some reason you still aren’t happy. It’s frustrating for me to see you sad, but I know in the back of my mind you do this to yourself and I suffer when it leaks out of your body into the world. I’ve given you everything, things that I didn’t even have yet you wanted; I gave them to you on a silver plater. I rip myself apart when you feel like shit about yourself and I kill myself when youre angry at me and yet here I am still with you, and here you are still unhappy. And I do this to myself… I slice off a part of my happiness to fill the hole in yours but it will never be enough. Only until I’m depress will you realize that I’ve given you everything and maybe then will you be happy.