How does it feel to know your demons are your creations?

I haven’t felt like doing anything but staying in bed wasting meaningless time doing absolutely nothing, despite having things to get done.

Strangers are kinder than my own.

I’ve recently had the pleasure of knowing two types of people.

Weighing in both of their negative features. Not that they don’t have any good in them, they do. But sometimes it gets lost along the way.

Some go out of their way to hurt people. I will never understand why. It just feels petty. But they are who they are and proud of it, so good for them in the end.

And then, the other, who had no one else at her lowest yet, the minute she found her way back to herself, went back to being the bitch we all formed a love-hate relationship with.

And the lesson in all of this is that no one is ever really genuine. They always have something they need from you. And when your cup is empty, you’re useless to them.

I hate losing people. But sometimes I can’t help but.

I’ve been so hurt by people and their actions that now when I feel hurt, I can’t look at them the same way. Because no one bothers to reassure me or even acknowledge their part in it. And most are hugely unaware too.

Sometimes in life, you come across these once in a lifetime friendships. But then they sleep with your boyfriend, and you lose them forever, and friendships like those never come again. The best and the worst truly.

They said it would be good to have boundaries. But what they didn’t tell you was that you’d isolate yourself from everyone.

All you need is one person who understands you.

Not a hundred friends, but just one. Just one good friend is worth a million. 

But that one good one is so hard to come by.

Whoops, I really need to pick this up. What kind of woman am I if I can’t keep the promises I make to myself?

It’s been forever. And I turned 30.

Also, I am officially way past the age of calling myself a girl, so from now on I will refer to myself as a woman, as dreadful as that sounds. Oh, how I loved being just a girl.

Life has been interesting, I would say, a little bit underwhelming and disappointing, but oh so great in so many other ways.

I’m convinced life would be simpler if you had fewer people to disappoint you.

But then, a life with little to no one around is just empty, I guess.

I guess that’s one of the terrible things about life—that everyone’s going to disappoint you. You just have to figure out who’s worth tolerating.

I’m not fine. 

Maybe this is the process. I’m in so much pain that my only outlet is to scream murder into my pillow. Maybe it gets worse before it gets better. 

The universe keeps playing against me. It keeps reminding me and showing me things I’d rather not know and would like to forget. 

I’m messing up. I’m missing out. I am unable to show up for myself. I feel weak. 

This was anything but mutual. Maybe that’s why it’s hurting so much. This isn’t something I’d have ever chosen for myself. I did this for him because this is what he wanted. I did it anyway, even if it would break me. He needed to be free from me. 

I feel anxious. Every breath is too loud. I want to be strong; I’m trying to be. It’s taking everything from me to be strong right now; I have no other choice. 

I feel like I got stuck in unrequited love after being pulled into it. 

I’m in pieces. 

Today nearly killed me. It’s finally hitting me.

I’m in pieces.