22, lesbian, living in the dirty south, also known as Tennessee.
“Honey, who said that the love of your life had to be a man or woman you haven’t even met yet? Maybe, you are destined to be the greatest love of your own life.”
Della Hicks-Wilson (via dellahickswilson)
There’s a box in my closet. It’s filled with photographs, yearbooks, stuffed animals that I’ve had since I was little, things that people have made me, books, birthday cards, and old journals.
I recently went through the box and dug out my old journals and began to read them. The first one I found was filled with things that you would find in a “normal teenage girl” journal. “My brother is so annyoing!” “I hate my step-father.” And “school sucks.” But as I was reading I realized a few things.
One: I was a very angry/ emotional teenager, which I kind of already knew that. But reading the things that I’ve written over the years made my heart hurt a little. I was so unhappy growing up. Every page was talking about how I hated life and hated myself. How can someone be so unhappy at such a young age?
Another thing I learned is that I repeat myself a lot. I only seem to get inspired to write when something bad happens in my life. And that’s when the cycle begins. When something bad happens, I completely fall apart. Every single time. I think I’m scared to be truly happy, which is why I always cling to people that are no good for me. I’m completely comfortable in my own saddess. My depression has completely taken over me and I never realized it until just now.
I think I’m catching on to my tricks. I put myself through this. I have gotten so used to feeling like I’m not worth anything, so I started to believe that I’m worthless. But I know that that isn’t true. It can’t be, can it?
I ended up burning all my old journals and as the flames got bigger I began to cry. It’s hard to let go of something that has always been apart of you. Depression is a part of me, but it’s not the only part. I will not let depression control me anymore. I’m completely done with feeling like this.
I want to feel happiness. I want to wake up in the mornings be thankful that I’m alive. I want to fall asleep with a smile on my face. I want to be able to write when something good happens, not when my world is crashing. I want to feel normal. Depression isn’t normal. It’s a fucking disease and I’m sick of living this way. I’m taking my life back.
The only thing left to figure out is where do I go from here? How do I start over?
“You only lose what you cling to.”
Buddha (via enjoui)
“I loved her, not for the way she danced with my angels…
But for the way the sound of her name could silence my demons.”
Christopher Poindexter (via souloftheroseurluv)