I heard today that when you experience trauma, you are stuck at the age when it occurred to you until you accept and deal with it.

Will that explain why I’ve been feeling or acting like a 14 year old girl during my latest 20s and earliest 30s? I’ve never felt like a little girl until now. Have I really not matured?

What about us, then? The ones that never fit it—the ones that carry too much of their sadness in their hearts and minds— What about us?

We will never be understood. We will never be loved right because no one will ever know how to. 

I don’t know why I break things. Nothing hurts me more than being left alone when Im in pieces. It spirals to a full breakdown, and then I channel that anger and sadness into a physical commotion. It’s a way of staying in control when I feel like I’m losing it. 

Nothing makes sense. I’m tired of figuring this life out. Maybe I’ve lost. 

I’m tired of fighting for your love.