A Letter To Myself

            I wrote myself a letter because I felt that no one really understands me except myself. I try to communicate, but the only person who actually listens is myslef. I have waited for help from others but it hasn’t arrived, I guess, the only person I can expect help from is, myself. 



Dear Pedro, 

            I can see what you are going through. I can almost feel it. You left social media. Deleted Facebook. Never post on Snapchat and have grown distant with your friends. They must not understand, but I do. I see how every morning it’s hard for you to get up. To face another day with problems. It seems like you can’t get a break. Don’t give up. 

            I understand you have no money. You can barely afford to keep the fridge stocked up for your family. How do people expect you to go out? And have fun? When you could use that money to pay bills and buy food. Survive. No one sees that, but I do. Don’t give up. 

          When I ask if everything is ok, you always say yes. But I know that’s not true. I ask again, surprised you look at me and tell me the truth. No one has asked you twice. No one asks for the truth. They only want to hear “ok” and “fine” to get on with their lives. But I care. I want to know. I can’t fix it, but I can lend my support. If you don’t want to talk we can just sit in silence. I know how sometimes you want to be alone, but not feel alone. Don’t give up. 

            I can see how sometimes you can’t even cry because you see no use in that, you just want it all to stop. But wait, think about your family. Your mother and brother. You have to stay and look after them. Who else will? Don’t give up. 

            I know that your mom has cancer. I’m sorry. Life has treated you very unfairly. Your going to lose your job due to a work permit that has yet to arrive. I know, life is hard. Don’t give up. 

            With all the problems you have, I won’t ask you to come and have fun. I know you can’t. I know that when you go out all you think about is your problems. The how’s? And the why’s? Don’t give up. 

            You can’t focus on anything else. So then I’ll ask you what you want to do. What will help? I’ll give you a warm hug just so you know I feel your pain. I’ll tell you it will get better. That it will be ok. You will respond in a negative way. Saying how it’s not, and I don’t understand. But I do, so I’ll say, “even if it doesn’t, I’ll be there by your side.” That will put a smile on your pale face, no one has ever said that to you before. Don’t give up. 

            I know each day gets harder. I know each hour drags on by. I know every minute is excruciating. I know every second air seems to get thinner and it’s difficult to breathe. Don’t give up. 

            I know how many times you have thought about it. Don’t do it. I know it seems like the only way out. Don’t do it. I know the reasons why you would want to. Don’t do it. Don’t give up. 

Even though you want to do it really bad, and sometimes you are on the edge, hanging on for dear life, and you might think that there is no turning back, I plead and beg you, just don’t give up

It Would Be Nice Of You To Just, LISTEN 

            One of my friends had the audacity to call me out on social media. Snapchat, to be more specific. She captioned a picture of her face saying how her (Jen) and my other friend (Eli) still loved me and even though I “didn’t want to talk to them” they still missed me.

            FIRST OF ALL, I am not ignoring them, or not wanting to talk to them. They have not tried their best to communicate with me. I wish they would because I want to tell them everything. But if I’m not asked how will I?

             But that’s not even the main reason why I am upset. The fact that she called me out on social media was fucked up. You think, well, I think that if she really cared she would have called me or texted me. That was not the way to get my attention.

             So, I told her. I did want to talk to them I just didn’t know how. I thought that this would steer the conversation somewhere where she could reassure me that she was there for me. Instead she just said, “nigga just talk to us how you used to.”

            This, bothered me because I was trying to be real and open up to her but she just waved it off as if it wasn’t a big deal. So I told her that I did them a favor because they wouldn’t want to be hanging out with someone who was broke, and sulking every second of the day.

             To that she played the victim asking if I actually thought they were that superficial. Of course not, she just didn’t understand what I was trying to say! That they go out a lot and me saying I don’t ever have money was going to get old. But I didn’t even try to explain that, I just told her that I didn’t know how to express myself.

              She told me I didn’t need to. That I didn’t have to tell them my problems they just wanted to hang out with me and have fun and laugh and shoot rainbows out of our ass, the fuck? My mom has fucking cancer you bitch, I’m not going to go out and have fun and forget that.

              Every single time I get the feeling of being happy, there is a little voice in my head that pops up and asks me, why are you having fun? As I try to answer this question the voice speaks for me and gives me a list of all the things that bring me down and cloud my memory. There is no way I can get that voice out, it’s always there. And it wont leave until my problems do, so never.

                 Jenny, I love you but you not wanting to listen to my problems really hurts me. It makes me feel like you don’t really care about my life. Because as sad as it sounds my problems are my life and they are part of me. I just can’t put them in the closet and take them out when ever I am ready to face them. They follow me around where ever I go. I can’t just put them in a box and push it to the side while I go out for the night and have fun, they will still be there when I come back. I wish you would do the opposite and ask me whats the matter. I know you can’t fix it, I know they aren’t your problems, but it would be nice of you to just, listen.

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

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.
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      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.
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      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

If You Didn’t Ask It’s Because You Didn’t Want To Know

I’m pissed off Journal,

      Well, not as much as I was a couple of hours ago. I posted a story on Snapchat yesterday (that was rather depressing) I hadn’t posted anything in over two months. My two “best friends” both saw it and messaged me. One (Jen) said, “you’re not in this alone.”  The other (Eli) said, “we’ve been texting you but glad to see you’re ok.” To both of them I replied “I know” which led to Jen not responding and Eli messaging back, sorry for bugging you I’ll leave you alone. 

      Now, I’m not in a good place but it’s not that bad. But what if it was? What if I was on the verge of leaving this life and they acted this way? All bitter and sassy? I can’t think that, that would only contribute to me taking one of the worst decisions in life, death. Like everyone else I have my good days as well as my bad days, but the difference is sometimes my bad days are really bad.

      Lets try some common sense. If you have a friend that you know is going through some shit, per say. Like money or health problems or even both (because life’s a bitch). Lets say they have social anxiety and have a hard time expressing their emotions. They always smile because they don’t want to bring attention to themselves and their problems. They don’t want to bring anyone down. Everything seems fine but they seem very distant. What would you do?

      I don’t know if it’s just me, but I would try to help that person. Listen to them. At first yes they’d say that everything is fine. They would possibly ignore me. But that doesn’t mean I would stop trying. I hate it when people ask me “how are you?” and once I say that everything is fine the conversation goes on but we both know that it’s not. I’m not sure if its pride or timidness but I wont come out and say that I’m hurting, or not ok. My brain thinks if you didn’t ask it’s because you didn’t want to know.

      Maybe its a wrong way to think. Maybe I have the fault in all this. Maybe I’m the one who should be apologizing. But my brain isn’t wired like that. All I think is, why haven’t my friends tried harder? Why haven’t they called me until I answered? If they don’t see me posting on social media why don’t they ask whats going on? Haven’t we known each other long enough to be worried for each other? All I get is empty words and no actions. Is our friendship over?

      While they’re out going to museums, movies, and concerts, I’m home sitting wondering how they have the courage to be within so many people. I wish I was more social. Social like them. I remember when I would run my mouth to people. I wouldn’t shut up. But that was only a part of my life, it has come and gone. It was like a small role in the movie that is my life that I played so well but that scene has ended. I have always been shy, timid, quite, antisocial. I keep to myself. I’m scared of human contact, may that be physical, emotional, or even mental. I live in a shell.

      Why don’t they understand that I’m not the type of person that when a problem arises, I wont run towards them for support. I hide and think. Think and think. Overthink. The only way I will open up is if I’m asked. And there’s nothing I can do to help that. And I hate it. Because then they think that I don’t want to tell them anything. They start to think that I don’t need their help or support. That’s possibly how they feel right now. But I have no clue how to make amends. I just wish they tried harder. Because I can’t anymore.
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2/27/2017