Saturday, October 18, 2008
How Do You Decide?
What do yuo do when the person you love is no longerthe same? When you stop loving them but they continue loving you? When you still care and they say they don't want you to go. When you still care about them but as a friend. When you're not sure but there's just so much stuff clouding your judgement. When you really don't know what you want or feel because there's so much stuff gone on. When you don't know if it's good for either of you for you to staiy together. To have to make the decision to stay and always be unhappy and never know if you'll find the right on or to leave and break their heart and hurt yourself and feel like you're a piece of shit. To feel as if you're using them even though you're not when they take care of you. How do you decide? Between what's right and wrong, between it all? How do you decide to break someone's heart like that?
Monday, October 6, 2008
The Past Unspoken
If you feel like digging through my past, here it is. Open and true. Have fun. http://kaytegoodbody.blogspot.com/
Why Is the World Never Right?
I'm running. I'm scared. I'm alone. You're not here. My world is shaking. I'm trembling, crying, screaming. I don't know what's going on. All I know is I want it to stop. I want to know. Because if I know, at least I can expect something, prepare myself for what's ahead. I'm running, I'm screaming, I'm scared. And all I know is I need you here. But you're so far, far away. Why is the world determined to keep you away from me? I need you; your strength, your love, your protection. I need you next to me. I want so badly for you to be here, lying next to me. I need to curl up and not be afraid. But you ignore me and I don't know if you care. I know you do but....I don't see it. I'm alone in a world determined to hurt me, kill me, no matter what I do. I'm scared. Because even though we've fixed us, all I see is how distant we've become. I want what we had. And I don't think we can ever have that again. All those lies, all that pain, the games and vindictiveness.....I don't think we can come back from that. You're not trying as usual and I'm just...alone in my efforts. You seem to think these things only apply to me. Well they don't. You never try unless you're gonna lose me. And then when you get me back you throw me away. Why is it you only want what you can't have? Why are you never happy? Because you're not. I know you're not. I want us to be happy. But you distance yourself. You stay away and don't try. You hurt me and I wonder if there's even a point in going on. You don't want the burden of taking care of me. I know it. I can see it in what you do, the tone of your voice, the way you look. You want to get rid of this burden of me but you don't want to be alone. I'm not a fucking package or a bag you can just throw around. I have a heart and you're always breaking it. You want me to go away but you're afraid you'll miss me. I can see it in your eyes. You don't love me anymore. You used to be...so different. But you've changed. Something's happened to you while I've grown to love you and need you more....you've grown away. You don't want me anymore.
These Things About the World
I do not hope; therefore I cannot be let down. There is only up from there.Pessimists are the happiest people on earth. They are only surprised for the good because they expect the bad.I do not judge. I only perceive. And I perceive you with the material which you give me.
Really, Parents. THINK!
Why is the world so messed up? So miserable, so determined to share it's misery with others. So intent on hurting. Why can't there ever be anything purely good? Even with my lessening of depression because of Anthony and me, I still feel the sour bite of depression sucking at my soul. I know now that counseling won't work. It's a chemical thing that's fucked up in my brain cuz my mom was on pills when she was pregnant with me and nursing me. Not exactly something I can talk my way out of. I need the pills to fix it but I can't get them and my parents won't. So I'm pretty much helpless and very likely to die sometime before I turn 18. And even if I make it to then, I won't be able to afford the insurance and pills and all that shit. So I'm screwed and set up to die and It's not even my fault. Just more than a little fucked up. Why can't our parents THINK before they do things to fuck us up? My boyfriend's mom fucked up her 3 kids by being around her smoker husband when she was pregnant and putting them as babies around that shit and drinking and having coffee when she was pregnant and nursing with them. It's not fair what they do to us that we can't control. It fucks us up and now I can't really have alcohol because in addition to my father's alcoholic Irish family, I'm also fucked because my loving mommy decided to mess me up by taking pills I didn't need and exposing me to them as a baby and when I was in the womb. So I'm a depressed alcoholic. Goddamn I can't even walk down the wine isle at Albertsons without flipping out. I've gotten better but still. And depression makes me wanna drink. How fucked is that? I mean, Honestly. Thanks so much for loving me enough to fuck my entire life mommy and daddy. Damn I mean it's not really his fault for being Irish, but she didn't have to fuck me up. And yet they won't get me pills I actually need to fix what they did to me. I kinda need them to keep me from fucking killing myself. Every moment I feel the depression in the corner of my mind, my body, my emotions. It never goes away. And I can thank them for it but for nothing else. I know for sure that if I live long enough to have kids, I'm gonna be going off my antidepressants for my pregnancy and when I'm nursing them. I want them to have the best chances possible and have the happiness I never could have.
The Beginning
This is my blog. My new start. My story, picking up at a new place. Think what you will, but this is me. Unaltered. Unedited. Just ME. Judge me, hate me, love me, miss me. But in all, I do not lie, I will not lie, everything on here is pure, honest, true. Raw emotions, thoughts, Me.
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