This, too, will pass.

I was sitting in the room of my friend's aunt's house, my second beer in, while watching Crazy, Stupid Love with my friends when it hit me. These past couple of weeks had been stressful and difficult and there were many days when I went to bed hating myself, but, at that moment, it all changed. I was tired of feeling sorry for myself. I was tired of wondering if I was ever good enough or if people liked me. I was tired of it all. Sitting in that chair, I decided I was done with it all. Done with the fear and the pity and the rest. If someone doesn't like me, that's their problem, not mine. All I can do is be the best me I can be, and if that's not good enough for someone, they're not good enough for me. It won't always be easy, but nothing worth it ever is.

What did I do?

Did I do something wrong? Because I feel like you hate me. I feel like the last thing you want to see is my face and the last thing you want to do is talk to me. I don't expect anything from you. I'm not dumb. I know how life works for me. I would just like to know what the hell I did to make you feel this way because I'm sick and tired of being hated and ridiculed for things I didn't do. I'm sick of being left out and isolated because I did something wrong or I'm not good enough or god knows what reasons.

So I just ask one thing, and I'll leave you alone forever. What did I do? Because I honestly haven't a clue.

Not Enough.

I will never be good enough. Not for a guy; not for my mom; not for me.

I'm too fat. I'm too tall. I'm not pretty enough. I'm not funny enough. I'm smart enough. I'm not sexy enough. I'm not talented enough. I'm not enough.

I'm a whole lot of not enough and none of it adds up to anything worth loving.

---

I don't know why I write this here. It makes me look depressing and lonely. Maybe I am. Maybe this is the only way I can figure out how to say how I feel because it seems like no one in my life cares to know about it. Here, I can just throw it to the wind and for the one, brief second someone is reading this, someone out there knows how I feel. I might not know them now or ever, but, for that one second, I don't feel so alone. Someone knows. Someone understands. I only wish I were able to tell someone I do know. Trouble is, I'm not strong enough.

Borderlands

I live in the borderlands between memorable and forgotten.
In that half-forgotten place where meaningless thrives.
There, I'm more than an acquaintance, but not quite a friend.
There, I am good, but never good enough.

Winter creeps ever nearer and the sky was turning black when I saw it. It was just a small speck of light flying amongst the darkening clouds, but, at that moment, it was like the unreachable light that the end of an ever-tiring tunnel. As I headed back to my tiny, depressing room, there was no place on earth I would have rather been than up in that plane, flying high above the clouds, where none of my problems and fears and sadness could find me. I want nothing more than to fly far away to a place where no one can find me; to a place where I can be free and happy. I don't want to be afraid to let go anymore. I don't want to hurt anymore. I feel so lost and alone and worthless and I wish I could just step on that plane and let it take me away to a place where I won't feel that anymore; a place where I can lose myself so deeply that I won't feel lost anymore. I want to forget. I want to forget the longing I feel for every single thing in my life that I'm apparently not worthy enough to have. I'm tired of trying to hold myself up when I feel like I'm falling to pieces. So let me fly. Let me fly away and leave myself behind.

I've done it again.

I have this weird problem where, if I stay up past midnight, I can't go to sleep until two in the morning, (maybe one if I'm lucky.) If I am in bed before midnight, there's no problem. I don't really get it. So, here I am, about to tell you some not-so-random, jumbled-up story of the mess that is my life.

For the first time since I started college here, I like someone. Not just that, "Oh, he's cute and I would probably go out with him if he asked me to," either. Really like him. That like where just seeing him makes you smile and you always wonder what he's thinking of you. That like where you find yourself sitting somewhere and wondering what he's up to or where he's at because you wish you could be there with you. That like where you suddenly become self conscious of everything you do because you wonder what he thinks about it. That like that makes you do incredibly stupid things. That like that could maybe someday be something so much more if only he felt the same way.

Trouble is, he's already busy liking someone else. Once again, I've gone and found myself a guy I can't have in the first place. (The only thing I can be thankful about is that, this time, it's not because he's gay.) I knew I shouldn't have let myself get this way. I knew I should have done something to stop it, but I don't think there's much of anything I could have done. All I can do now is lock away my feelings like always and pray he doesn't figure me out because I wouldn't want to lose him as a friend, too.

So, here I am. 1:30am and I'm still awake, wishing I could go to bed; wishing I could stop liking him. I don't want my heart to break again because my heart won't listen to my head.

So much for being a heartless bitch.