I'm not entirely sure why I'm writing this to be honest.
My heart feels pretty heavy. I don't know why I'm laying here, reciting words I'd say to a lover, in this stage of my life. There isn't a love interest. Ghosts. They don't talk, except in my mind. Not often but they never knock before intruding. It's just there. I'd say to myself, "I love you, but I can't be with you. I'm a haunted individual. At times I can barely tolerate it myself, and I don't want you to bare that weight." It's not like it matters anymore. Who's heart can break when there is none?
I'm not lonesome. Not romantically anyways. I've learned contentment on my own, nor is there any real desire for it now. Although I was in love once. I think I remember it from time to time; A warm presence blanketed over me. Then the memory gets fractured. PTSD is a bitch.
In some ways, I'm grateful for the positive times. I remember them clearly---late night phone calls, bunch of laughter, expressions---then nothing. Just like that it's gone. If I'm not careful, I'll remember things I've shoved in the basement and thrown out the key for. How does a familiar presence gets twisted up into something else entirely? It's not even the same person anymore. That's what haunts me.
Despite all of this, I'm fine. I'm doing pretty well, all things considered. I'm a high achiever in college hunting A's like it's life or death. I've been working diligently on my writing career. This year I'll have an established writing portfolio. My work is going to be published soon with more on the way. It's just times like now, when time just pauses for a moment in all the noise.
Anyway, I don't know why I'm writing all of this. I guess I've been too busy to slow down enough to process. This is just a quiet ramble to the void. Not quite the void, as there's hundreds of people on this site. There're maybe a handful of people whom can relate. Well, if you do, you're not alone. It's normal. It's this bittersweet, ugly, yet beautiful thing called life. Keep encouraging each other! Nobody goes through it unscathed but together it's comforting.
I'm not lonesome. Not romantically anyways. I've learned contentment on my own, nor is there any real desire for it now. Although I was in love once. I think I remember it from time to time; A warm presence blanketed over me. Then the memory gets fractured. PTSD is a bitch.
In some ways, I'm grateful for the positive times. I remember them clearly---late night phone calls, bunch of laughter, expressions---then nothing. Just like that it's gone. If I'm not careful, I'll remember things I've shoved in the basement and thrown out the key for. How does a familiar presence gets twisted up into something else entirely? It's not even the same person anymore. That's what haunts me.
Despite all of this, I'm fine. I'm doing pretty well, all things considered. I'm a high achiever in college hunting A's like it's life or death. I've been working diligently on my writing career. This year I'll have an established writing portfolio. My work is going to be published soon with more on the way. It's just times like now, when time just pauses for a moment in all the noise.
Anyway, I don't know why I'm writing all of this. I guess I've been too busy to slow down enough to process. This is just a quiet ramble to the void. Not quite the void, as there's hundreds of people on this site. There're maybe a handful of people whom can relate. Well, if you do, you're not alone. It's normal. It's this bittersweet, ugly, yet beautiful thing called life. Keep encouraging each other! Nobody goes through it unscathed but together it's comforting.
26-30, F
