As I sit in this room I feel crazy. I wonder why I am here, however, I am completely sure as to why my ventures have led me to this door. My thoughts have begun to overpower me. People say to simply think happier thoughts, be more optimistic, move on from the past. What they do not understand is that I try. I cry at night because the struggle is too great. I can not win this battle without this visit. I can not do this alone. But what am I supposed to say? Will this lady understand why I am here? Can anyone understand without feeling what I feel, from my standpoint?

I go through life thinking that I can beat this. That I can move on and leave all the negative memories behind. But the terrors follow me. They haunt me during the daylight. And keep me from closing my eyes at night. The people I meet along the way are not always good people. But those who are good, well, they continuously pay for those who have wronged my tender heart. My unforgiving thoughts. It is not fair. To me or to the others. The thoughts understand that I am not the one to blame. Meanwhile, as time ventures on… my mind tends to wonder along the way. Questioning if I truly am to blame in one way or another. Throughout time I am scared. I am terrified that I will grow to blame myself. That I will let the bad guys off the hook… by merely placing the entire blame on myself. That is why I am here. Sitting in this warm, humid room. Hoping that this woman can help me.

She enters slowly and places my freshly compiled file on her desk. She is just here to introduce herself this first visit. To sit back and listen. Let me bombard her with thoughts and fears. Flooding over her like endless, crashing waves. But I am willing to talk. To let the flood gates fall open and talk. I want to get it all out. Even if she tells me I am crazy, letting it all go will make me feel better. Getting everything out will release all this insanity from my soul. I feel dirty. Burdened. Like no one wants to mingle because of some infection I have. Sure it’s all in my head. The thought process I hold is not that of any usual human being. There are bound to be others like me. However, for once, I wish I could just let it all go. And be… and well, be normal. If only for a day. I would trade anything for nothing more than that. Is it too much to ask?

I hear her name but quickly forget. My memory is bad… when it comes to the usual. If only I could forget it all. Nothing has been that terrible. But there is a reason people move on. Let it all go… to feel refreshed. To feel free. Not tied down by old memories. The tears are supposed to flow and then subside. To make and appearance. Then quickly vanish. That’s how it’s supposed to be… with normal people. At least.

My story begins. I am surprised how easy it is to get it all out on the table. First there were my parents. Rocky marriage and off/on kind of situation. Lies coming from the mother, resulting in father leaving. Having grown up in a house with a grandmother to shortly pass on & an aunt who is the greatest when she, herself, is not crazy. Never knowing what to believe from your own mother will give u a complex. Much so that father leaving has no lasting affect. Being taught early on not to trust. Every relationship you try to hold is ruined by this mother. While she risks her daughters to make her own life work for her and the accomplice. Faith was lost early. And over the years… it only got worse.

Going through life wasn’t really that difficult. Not physically at least. I bloomed and the attention rolled in. maybe the wrong attention though. Being a decent girl, for some reason I always brought forth the bad boys. To this day… it’s still the majority of my admirers. Hard times came my way & regrets followed. I made bad decisions that I wish I would not have made. But I learned many lessons that I am thankful for. What did not kill me, made me stronger. My outlook on life changed with every bad mistake. There were a few good men. One here or there. But something always ended it. Me not being ready, them having prior obligations. Life went on without them. My thoughts became worse. It moved to obsessions of how to make the next one work. What I had done wrong. Completely ignoring the fact that he was the asshole. The one with the issues. Not me. I cried for way too long each time and it seemed to only get worse. With each and every failure. But the issues weren’t simply with my love life. I began to have ticks. Issues with how things were placed. Constant thoughts of the happiness worse pain would bring. Compulsions of buying books, pens, journals. Those of which stemmed from the need of writing it all down. Getting all my thoughts out. But I had no attention span to write. It was difficult to sit down and write. I was thinking overtime already. Getting out. Moving around. And blocking the last one out with a new one was my choice of recovery. Needless to say… it wasn’t a victorious method.

Every step along the way I thought that I had a grasp on things. That things would be better this time around. But it never got better. It only got worse. Things became harder. I slept less. And no one ever understood. Eventually I became smart enough to not really think of causing myself pain. Not on a daily basis at least. I didn’t have to cause myself anymore pain. Others did so for me. I would go to friends for advice. Most would simply tell me to move on. To let things go. But no one understood exactly how impossible that was. My best friends were the best but neither of them truly understood what was going on inside my head at the time. It wasn’t everyday that was a bad day. Only one out of every 3 or 4. But the nights I cried myself to sleep were the worse. But it was all for the better. There came a time when I couldn’t go on any longer. The high and lows were after my ass. The obsessions & compulsions following quickly behind. I dealt with it as long as I could and well…. Then he had to come along. And change everything.

With him I wanted more to be normal. I wanted to be as flawless as any other girl. And to be everything I could be for him. He and I were nothing more than friends. It was understood and for once in forever it felt comfortable that way. I never had to fear him holding back to avoid hurting me. He was blunt. Honest. Just as I asked from all those I tried to date. He was nothing short of great. Everything to me even in ways that could never be. But he made me want to make it work. It was him who made me want to get my wires straight. I could see meeting another like him… in the sense that it just worked. He was a perfect model of patience with her. Sure, it broke my heart but I was grateful for him finding someone he deserved. Envious at times. But if he was happy… I was ecstatic for him. Him finding her gave me hope. But having learned a great deal of myself and my patterns over time… I knew that there were things inside myself that I needed to fix. Things that currently hindered me from finding someone to love me.No one wants to love a broken doll. A tortured soul can not love another. And the nightmares had, for so long, been keeping all my dreams away. I wanted to feel free. I wanted to be free. I wanted to love. To not be a tortured soul any longer. And most of all…. I wanted to let go and love. To let someone love me. Get rid of the obsessions and reoccurring ticks. For once, I wanted to be courageous.

And that is why I am here today. Getting it all out. To give myself another chance. To give the next one a fair chance. I have hope today. Simply being here takes a load off my shoulders. Opening up and letting it all flood out of me. And who knows, maybe I’ll sleep peacefully. For once in forever. This is only the beginning of a long journey. But I have a new born kind of faith. Its all going to be alright. I will make it through this and it will all be great. May take a long while but hey… what else do I have to do with myself these days?!?

 boring statistics are redundant. noone wants to read about my basics, what my favorites are, or who the last person was i kissed.... well, unless it was some kinky kinda rendevous. but i insist on writing. some people read and simply say... huh?!? others read and get inspired. to get up and move ahead... however, i do not write merely for everyone else. i write to vent. to get it all out. to avoid complete explosion and causing harm to others. i write to see if any others see things the way i do. if anyone is willing to respond: yeah, thats shitty. but i agree. i wanna make friends. i want people who can help inspire me more. people with things to say. who can make me think. the general population bores me. i can not help it. being a psychology major, things are always more complex in my mind. everytime i meet someone i tend to analyze. to realize that some people are simply unique, while others follow the usual standards of life and live very little. bad people out number the good. yet, we can learn from all good & evil. as long as we do not let them walk all over ourselve. with that said, i will be writing often. it is my passion. my escape. may you guys enjoy... the life of me.