Rejection 

            It’s crazy how we as human beings always have to be a part of something. We always have to feel wanted. And when we don’t, the feeling of rejection feels like fire consumming up a beautiful green forest in the middle of the night. It feels like a knife slowly erupting from within the heart cutting circulation and cutting life itself. At least for me it does. 

            That’s pretty much how I have felt all my life. One of my main fears, if not my number one, would be, rejection. It feels awful. One of the worst feelings someone can have. Specially when all you have ever wanted was to be part of something, to be, involved. 

            Everyday at work the coworkers I associate the most with and I always sit at the same table. We have marked it as our table. Not literally of course but mostly everyone knows that it is where we sit on our breaks and lunches. But some times someone new or just another random employee will sit there. That won’t make my coworkers sit else where though. They will just pull up a chair and sit around them. 

            It may seem rude but they are polite and say hi and offer their food or snacks. Maybe we should sit somewhere else? Maybe we should get there earlier? But we don’t. 

            Today though was different. I got ther last and all the seats were taken. It’s a table for four, and I was number seven. I pulled up a chair and Mr. Brown who was sitting at a near by table said, “Dam man! There’s a free table right there.” 

           I felt really bad. Yes, I could have gone to that table and sat alone. And even though I don’t consider my coworkers friends they are still close associates I talk to. As bad as it sounds they are there to fill the empty void I would feel if I was alone. 

            When Mr. Brown said that, it made me feel bad. Bad that I wasn’t brave enough to sit alone. Bad that I always had that feeling of rejection in the back of my mind that I had to avoid. Bad that I always had a feeling of being wanted. Bad that I had to sit at that table to feel part of something. Bad because I was just using them to not feel alone. 

But, am I the only one?

Advertisements

Mean

          Why are people so mean? Or is it that I just live in a ghetto city? Where people don’t give a fuck about what they say or what they do? Where they don’t care how they treat people, or let alone, if they hurt them? Where they only think about themselves?

          Or maybe I was raised right. I was raised to be respectful. I was raised to be kind and to care about others. To treat others the way you want to be treated. But what if you don’t get that in return? Still, I continue to be nice. Am I too good for this city? Or am I just too humble?

          At work there is a wide long cold distance between girls. Some don’t talk to each other because one didn’t say hi to the other for one day. Others because they simply forgot to invited them to a work birthday lunch, then all the sudden they are sworn enemies. All this is so stupid, but why do you girls live like this? It’s almost like they like it. But when they go home do they not feel the pain that the other person must be in? Wondering why they did the things that they did? 

          Then there are guys who, I don’t know why, but for fun they like to say ‘fuck you’ to each other. THERE IS NO POINT IN THIS. So why do it? Then there is that masculinity bullshit. My dick this my dick that, pussy, pussy, pussy. Who cares? Well, actually, who ever does care is one stupid person with no life goals. There’s more in life than your dick dude. 

          I just want to meet a genuine kind person. Not someone who at first will seem like a nice lovely rose, but then turn out to have the most vicious and sharpest thorns of them all. 

          I wish people would be nicer. I wish people would think before they say their hurtful words. I wish people could see how their words can affect people. I wish they could change. But it’s not up to me. That’s the sad part. 

Why?

Dear Journal, 

          I am, in yet, another conundrum. But as I lay here in bed writing this, I wonder, is it of my own doing? Or am I one of those people that has such a big heart that can only find blame in ones self and not others? Would a person with a big heart say that? 

          Why do I say this? Well, one of my friends sent me a Snapchat the other day. I ignored it because I just couldn’t face to open up a conversation after we hadn’t spoken in months. And also, or should I say mainly? I was some what mad. Maybe a little irritated that this person would try to start a conversation after this long, by means of a social media. Why not text and say hey, I miss you how you been? Or possibly I was wondering how your doing. A freaking call would have been nice! But no, there was no call, no text, just a simple picture that erased after four seconds never to see the light of day again. So, of course, I did not respond. 

           Today she sent a video. You you think it was heart warming? Maybe some words of motivation? No. I noticed that at the same time I got the snap she and her husband were out and about with they’re dog and she put it on her “story”. Must have been a video about that. I did not open it and I have yet to. I don’t want to. Right now I’m in a shitty place in my life that I can barley bare day by day. And you have the audacity to send me cute snaps and videos of you having the time of your life? Excuse me but, what the fuck? That’s not what you do to a friend. Oh your sad? Oh, life isn’t treating you well? That’s to bad, but look at my cute dog playing in the sand on the beach by the hotel we booked for the weekend because we just had extra money around and we didn’t know what else to do with it. Ok maybe that’s an extreme exaggeration, but that’s what I feel. Unfortunately that’s how my brain is wired to think. 

          Then on the whole other side of the coin I blame myself fully. I don’t diserve friends like that. I know that they care. They are the best, they are good.  I stood them up because I didn’t have enough money to buy chips and didn’t have the balls to tell them. (Then again, anxiety). Every time they reached out I pushed hem away. (Then again, they didn’t actually try). 

          We all may have a little to do in all this but deep down I just have so many things to yell at them. I just need to get it all out of my system. To ask them questions. Beg them for explanations. 

          Why didn’t you notice I was falling apart? Why didn’t you see how much I was struggling? Didn’t you see how my smiles turned into frowns? Why didn’t you notice how unhappy I was feeling? Why didn’t you sympathize when I said things weren’t going so good? Why didn’t you ask if everything was actually ok when I said it was? Why did you wave evey forced smile when you knew there was more behind it? Why didn’t you care? Why didn’t you try harder? Why did you stop trying? 

Why?


4/25/2017

When I Stop Trying We Start Dying

Dear Journal, 

         I was thinking yesterday about my relationships. More specifically, the relationships that have to do with love and friendships. In these two fields I have past experience in. Not a lot but enough to talk about. These experiences should not be taken by the book since I am in fact alone

          So, then why was I thinking about them? Well, there is this thing called Snapchat, and the friend I have left and I have been communicating through it everyday, because you get a streak. Which is obviously the only reason we use it. I noticed though that I am always starting the conversation. I am always the one who sends the first message, or snap. 

          Yesterday, I was somewhat busy and decided that I would let him start the convo. We usually start talking when I send the first snap, which is usually around six AM. This time it was differant. It was near noon and still no sign that he was alive . No sign that he was ever going to start the interaction of words. So I, not wanting to lose the streak we have (which is at 53 days thank you), finally decided to send a good morning snap. I did not get any other response than “gm”. Until later in the day he told me what college he had finally chosen. 

          This had me thinking. Thinking about how hard I have to work for this friendship to work, let alone last. This threw me back in time to 2011. I was dating this girl. She was sixteen and I was seventeen. I liked her, didn’t know she liked me kind of senerio. I told her the same day I was moving away, two hours away, that I liked her which made her give her confession of also liking me. Very movie like kind of thing I now. Very romantic. Boy moves back and gets the girl. 

          FYI the guy didn’t get the girl in this one. We started long distance dating and we would visit each other from time to time. The whole relationship lasted a good six months. Until, well, until I stopped trying. I noticed she would only reply with one word answers. When we talked on the phone I was almost always talking. I wanted her to speak as well so I would ask questions but they seemed to get me no where. So I ended things. You think that she would cry or try to reason that what we had could be saved but no, she simply said okay. And we remained friends. Really far friends, that only speak every once in a year. 

          The same thing happened when I started dating other people. I would notice that I would be putting so much more in the relationship that I would just stop caring. I felt so used. Not only would I give my all, I would spend my money, time, and energy in those relationships. Just to get “okays” and “yeahs”. I don’t think so. Anyone who replies like they should just burn in hell because it affects a person who over analyzes too much, like yours truly. 

          Same thing with friendships. It seems that when I stop trying we start dying. Makes me wonder. Am I really that annoying? Am I annoying at all? Do I do things that bug people? Am I boring? Or possibly irritating? 

          So basically, what I want to be understood is that I’m done trying. It’s taking to much of me to keep up with all these relationships. I have to keep it together like glue on building blocks. It’s eating at me. 

          And it sucks because every time I’m sinking in the black hole of anxiety it feels like no one cares and they don’t mind that I am no longer around. Makes me think that they never actually wanted me around. That I was just there to fill the emptiness for the mean time. It’s cruel. I need some one to try for me. To care for me. I need someone to work as hard as I will in a relationship. To give it their all just as I will. To not give up when I start drifting away. To do  something if they see that I am falling and sinking back in that black hole. Someone, just someone who cares, someone who cares enough to try



4/22/2017

My Little Red Friend

We have problem Journal,

      We’ll two if you want to be technical. Cold sores. I have had this problem since I was in the first grade so don’t go making any funny or dirty jokes (or both). A cold sore is a bunch of (motherfucking) blisters bunched up together (to ruin your life just by sitting) on your lip that are more than noticeable. It tingles on your lips but you know if you scratch even the slightest that (bitch of a) blister will only grow.
a1ffee6b850f776005c320dd3b3c19d5
      It had to come at the worst of times. No, I’m not meeting anyone new and no, I’m not doing anything special. But then again, who sits around thinking, “oh hey, I haven’t had a cold sore in a while, I think its about time.”

      I put medication on it to try to heal it as fast as I can. I had to go to work regardless. Even though it was pretty noticeable no one said anything! Honestly, that was really surprising. Some of my coworkers are extremely outspoken and have an opinion about every single little thing, yet no one said anything about the volcanic eruptions going on in the corner of my mouth.
fcf157401d4d4a40e6ba37824be7f1ec895537f6979100aac62b433da746f850
      I’m pretty sure everyone noticed, and maybe it was uncomfortable that they say something? That’s possible. (even though they aren’t really that nice, if at all). Maybe when it heals they’ll ask what happened to my little red friend. How embarrassing.

      Anyway, before I finish Journal, I wanted to also inform you something about my “friends”. I posted something on social media (like I do). Later that night they spammed the group messages with memes and pics about missing each other and what not. One of them sent a pic of her new cat. I asked if it was hers, and she replied with yes, obviously. She got it a month ago. I new but i was acting.

      After I stopped replying so did they. I hate how I have to keep them connected. Why do I have to be the center of our friendship? I cant right now, I’m not strong enough. They don’t even have the balls to demand to know what the fuck is going on in my life but yet they want to send funny pics and laugh. Well fuck them, right? Maybe I’m to harsh but that’s how I feel and I cant change my feelings because that’s what they are, feelings.
3/8/2017