ordinary

bc you're a fkn hermit

It’s definitely not writer’s block. It’s more like apathy and depression, and feeling like no matter how hard I make the effort to be “better,” it doesn’t work.

“Happiness is a choice.”

Well, I’m tired of always having to make the fucking decisions.

I’d like to just…be. I’d like to just focus on me without worrying about a parent, or trying to heal broken parts of me, or wondering what my success looks like. I don’t even want to get into how I’m starting to abhor the word heal.

Everyone’s fucking hEaLiNg.

I’ve been outside and in the mix more in these last two weeks than I have in the last year. It feels strange. It highlights something…maybe growth? A shifting of my seasons? I don’t know. I don’t enjoy being in the mix anymore, and this is coming from someone who’s frequently had lots of gatherings and game nights over the years. I find myself wishing I was back in the safety of my apartment, or any of my apartments, with my Pound Puppy. It’s my emotional support thing. Kinda like how Linus is with his blanket. I sleep with it, eat with it, and need it with me when I’m sitting still.

Being my mother’s caregiver is killing what’s left of my spirit and dreams. I know my Mom knows me, but there are parts of me that she doesn’t, the parts that I can’t share, the parts that I don’t have the energy to explain, the parts that would show her that my current circumstance is taking years off of my life.

Crying is my release. I cry at the very least a dozen times a day. Most often it’s just me sitting still while the tears silently find their way to familiar places on my chest, other times it’s me sitting in the shower hoping that the sounds of the water muffles my cries. I don’t know what this place is that I’m in but I’ll tell you one thing…I’m tired of fighting it. This is me giving in to whatever this is.

Yo, you got it.

You won.

I’ve had a vivid imagination my entire life and I’m noticing that all the things that I saw for myself are feeling more and more distant as the days go on. Am I destined for an ordinary life? One that has no ambition? No fire? No passion? Am I just supposed to accept this disgusting city and the depressing energy that the Bronx embraces like a warm hug? Am I supposed to accept that my dreams of having homes world wide and a main beach house somewhere are just that…dreams? Do we dream just to get away from reality a little bit, or do they really and truly come true? Thoughts of wealth and abundance have been escaping me. So much so that I could go the rest of my life without seeing or hearing about another fucking celebrity because that life isn’t real to me…or to most.

The thoughts of the possibility of my existence is just supposed to be ordinary makes me want to jump off the nearest fucking bridge.

I have a hard time feeling loved.

I’m not sure what it’s supposed to feel like because I’ve retracted so far back into my shell that even just the thought of someone showing they care terrifies me. Just the inkling of interest in me sets me on edge. Yes, this is coming from someone who definitely doesn’t want to die alone…but still. In my life experience so far, the people who promised me the sun, moon, and stars…have hurt me the most. I’m very skeptical of most and with good reason. When I stay to myself I have the most control over my peace…whatever that may look like on any given day, and my emotional state.

I’ll never forget an old “friend” telling me that I was “too much.” No bitch, how about you just weren’t enough. Or how about we were just on two different levels. Or how about it wasn’t my fault that you weren’t in touch with your emotions.

I was at a show and saw a friend recently that I haven’t seen or spoken to in a while due to me “being a fucking hermit.”¹ He hugged me. He hugged me so tight, and for so long that I had to fight back tears. I’m so used to people throwing me away, so to have someone physically show me that they’ve missed me or my presence in that way…

I’m not used to it. And it makes me really fucking sad that I’m not.

I had to try to keep it light because I fought back weeping during the entire hug. He asked me if I was okay. You know how people ask you that but it’s kinda like they’re on auto-pilot? It’s just something they say? This wasn’t that. So much so, that I couldn’t brush it off with the usual “I’m aight.” I didn’t say much and he understood completely.

I thanked him the next day for asking me that, letting him know that I really appreciated it…and the hug…because I needed it. He shared that he’d missed me and that it bothered him that he didn’t have access to me for a while and he needed me to know that I am loved.

Maybe I was supposed to go to that show that night. Maybe I was supposed to be there, not because of the show, but because I’d see him and we’d have this exchange. I try my best to try to see the thing(s) I’m supposed to see and feel in moments and challenging times…I guess I just wish I had more of those moments.

km.

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Author’s Note:

I was reminded that I don’t function well when I impose deadlines on myself, and I was doing that with this publication. Wanting to do all these different things and adds for my paid subscribers. It’s challenging, especially on the days I don’t have anything to write about. So to take some pressure off, I’m going to continue to write when it makes sense…when I have something to say that’s not forced, but I can’t say exactly what day of the week it would be. I’d be doing myself a disservice…kinda like trying to keep up with the Joneses, and that’s never been me. I’ve always kinda done my own thing because it’s the only way to stay true to myself. So for anyone new to Pieces of Me, welcome…I’m glad you’re here. If you want to convert to a paid sub, know that it will go towards my writing…to experiences that inspire me, or move me to pick up the pen. This way, I won’t have to put the pressure on myself to get posts out on certain days, times, and such. So it would be more of a supporting the work option, as opposed to having an expectation of a schedule. I hope that’s ok.

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Other ways to support would be by adding to my book collection, or sending over some tea/croissants :)

1. I was told this less than a week ago from someone else