say it isn't so...

For reasons unbeknownst to me, I am changing. I don't feel like I'm coming out of my shell. It feels more like I'm just shedding my exoskeleton. Like I will for the rest of my life. Like I'm going to be open and trusting for so long...then close back up. Vicious, life-altering cycle. I have started to look forward to it though.

I enjoy having people say they miss me. I enjoy having old friends and sometimes even old enemies try to create something new with me. I enjoy being needed. I enjoy being wanted. I enjoy being apologized to. I enjoy having people to talk to again.

I guess I enjoy attention. I'm not out looking for it, but when it finds me...I don't deny it. This doesn't necessarily make me bad, but human.

There's a lot more I would like to do in life right now that I can't bring myself to do. I have no job. I'm not going to school. And I still miss a lot of my old friends. But I am getting there and will not stop until I, myself, am happy.

I just wish I wouldn't have to close back up again. I guess I do it to protect myself and my feelings. I have been through unimaginable feelings. I may not have been put through horrible things according to you, but in my mind, they were enough to kill me.

I do try to thank God for every day I get to continue breathing. I feel as if I'm undeserving of the things that have started to come my way. And I'm not sure if I've ever met anyone else who hates herself this much.

For reasons unbeknownst to me, I am changing.

if tomorrow never comes...

There's no need for an introduction, I know who I am. Most of the time.

There's a lot in my head that still needs configured and readjusted. A lot of things I've done in my past have rewired my brain into this jumbled mess of currents.

Most of the time, I'm keeping to myself. Not bothering. Not burdening. And with that lonesomeness comes a never-ending stream of thoughts. Ranging from self-doubt to self-pity. But almost always consisting of the self.

I don't know if I am fully capable of the entire spectrum of emotions anymore. I can feel pain. I can feel happy. Am I really hurting though? Am I really happy?

In the past couple years, I've noticed I can't continue crying for more than a few minutes. I am sad. But I can not cry like I used to. Does this make me stronger? Or colder? Part of me doubts that I will ever be strong enough for my own good. So I am colder. I am more withdrawn from everyday things. I would rather not put my heart and soul into anything anymore, in fear of having it fatally wounded.

I sit in my room like this lonesome little girl. Day in. Day out. Trapped. I am Trapped. But I have no one to blame but myself.