There hasn’t been a lack of inspiration. More like an influx… Every time I put cursor to blank document though, I can’t see anything. My eyes blur up and the keys seem miles away. Maybe it’s a message for me to go many miles away. I can’t think or put my thoughts here anymore. Some of my posts were sad, but all in all, blogging made me happy. Sharing my crazy and finding out who I was. On July 22, 2011, that all went away. I lost my world. Relapsed into old Jen. I feel like an addict who finally got their gold coin of sobriety only to use that coin to pop the top on the liquor bottle or line up the crushed substance. I have a problem. No, it’s not drugs or alcohol. I can’t say what it is, but it doesn’t make me a good person. And at the end of the day, I hate myself more than yesterday. I just miss everyone. I feel like there is a hole in my heart. Spots I am keeping warm, in case “they” come back. They aren’t coming back. They never do. I know they leave because of me. The me I am relapsing into. Will I ever see the best parts of me? I know I created this reality. That doesn’t make it better, it just better places blame. It means that I am not good at the only job I am truly obligated to…
I didn’t want to write a sad blog. I won’t fake happiness . I am what I am. I can’t be who they want me to be. I can put on a mask long enough to peek their interest, but never long enough to keep them around. Do they leave or do I push them out. I am not even sure who they are. People, forced to interact for some greater purpose. Why am I still here?
I can’t write anymore. I just wanted you to know that I am not dealing well with all the people departing my life and I feel like I am falling into a hole I dug to deep to climb out of… But as per my personality, I will just wait for my Amber to find me. Working distracted me from the pain. Not working, I think about 9 years out the window because I wanted someone to be something they are not. I will lie here and see what comes along because that’s just who I am. If I end up buried alive, at least that what the reality I created.
I am usually so anal about my posts. It takes me hours to write them because I read and re-read them over and over before I post them. I go over them, picking them apart, trying to figure out what other people are seeing. I wrote this one in 20 minutes and I have not re-read it. I don't want to feel the pain I felt when I started typing. They say that cameras can capture a part of your soul. I hope this blog is taking my bad emotions and locking them in a box. Thats how I got over someone who really hurt me. I envisioned all the pain I felt, trapped in a little wooden box in my heart. With little brass hinges and a lock. I used to worry the box would open... Now I just hope that I can fit more things in it. This post is a little of the thoughts in my head I hope to stuff in that box. I don't want to see them or read them.
