In Retrospect

I've come to realize that not getting what I want is better for me. A stroke of luck, if you will. You see, I'm not good at knowing what's good for me. My decisions have almost always been mistakes. I'm pretty stubborn on that front. 

Normally I don't even learn from those mistakes. I just keep repeating them over and over again. Which reminds me of that one Grey's Anatomy quote that if you said to a stranger, would get you a pretty "what the fuck" reaction.

"Why do I keep hitting myself with a hammer? Because it feels so good when I stop."

It's not exactly the same. In fact, it's not the same at all. It feels horrible when I stop. The thing is, I have these masochistic tendencies that make me fall into this pattern of constantly putting myself through emotional torment. And there's no one to blame. I take complete responsibility. So, maybe we should scrap that quote and take another one... one from the Goo Goo Dolls song,

"You bleed just to know you're alive."

No, no. That doesn't feel right. Maybe that's not the case at all. 

Ah, I know what it is. I choose what to suffer from. Certain things, real, substantial things that require me to have some kind of emotions for, I put at the very back of my mind. A place completely unaccessible. I hide it so well, I can't even find it myself. 

I'd much rather focus on boys. And all things petty that come along with them. Because boys are a lot easier to handle. Boys don't actually matter. I occupy my mind with them because the suffering I get from them is something I can take. Gladly. Just as long as it means that I am distracted from what's really bothering me. 

Which is why I hate being alone at home. Every time my mum leaves to go somewhere, my heart sinks. I don't want to be alone with my thoughts. They're very unfriendly and personally, quite scary. I don't want to face any of my demons. I'd much rather stay here, ignorant and foolish and not moving towards getting rid of my actual issues. I don't wanna go there. 

But I have. More and more, lately. There's no boy. No unrequited love crap that I need to deal with. No one I miss. Just me and my fear. That's all I have in my head and I think I'm slowly going insane. 

That's okay, though. I have a solid facade. No one will know. 

(I won't lie, I miss you still. But people need to move on. Even if involuntarily, it just kind of happens. But miss you, I still do.)