Exploring the Unfamiliar

Don’t say that to me. I’m still damaged.

A love after your first love? I don’t think that exists. For all I can see is hurt, not hope for another love. What if your first love is your last love? & if you lose it, then are you doomed to a lonely existence? Or what if you never stop wishing for your first love to be your last love, & thus never feel fulfilled? 

I wish I could be that bubbly 18 year old whose only worries were how to do the most good and be the best student. The girl who did not care about love…

What is love, anyways?

I wish I had a happy place that I could tune into and stay with. Well, my happy place is my best friends. I wish I was around them right now.

I feel guilt, anger, hate, sadness, and regret over last night. That’s the last thing I ever wanted. I promised myself I’d never let that happen. But then it did. And part of me blames him for being stupid and retarded and dumb enough to get his ghetto, immature, shameless brother involved who thinks he’s intimidating. Lol right. More like he’s so shameless that I know better than to take him seriously or listen to anything he has to say.

He got the one person involved that he knew would blow things out of proportion and ruin everything for him. And that’s exactly what happened. You don’t accomplish anything by threatening my safety and wellbeing. What was I supposed to do? I could’ve called the police or I could’ve told my mom. I chose the less severe option.

I can’t blame myself or regret it. I’ve had enough of being hurt and betrayed. He chose this for himself. He chose to lie to me, play me, mess with me, and hurt me. He consciously made all those decisions. And in doing so he sealed his fate with his dad. I can’t let myself be overridden with guilt. Obviously because I still feel bad for his dad finding out, it means I still care about his wellbeing. But he didn’t care about mine when he sent his dumb sister in law and brother on some pointless crusade against me, so I can’t care about his. I can’t let myself care anymore.

He chose this for himself. He made all these decisions. He chose to accuse me with lies, terrorize me, play with my emotions, among everything else. If I want to tell his dad everything one day, I can. If I want to hate him, I can. If I want to wish bad upon him, I can. Because he showed me yesterday that he doesn’t care what happens to me.

His brother said “I’ll have the last laugh.” Right. Lol too bad you ruined your younger brothers life by being a dumbass and getting involved. Now he’s not laughing and neither will you.

And I should be laughing. But I’m not because I don’t like hurting people like this and having the one thing he didn’t want to happen, happen. I know he chose it and drove things to this, but that doesn’t mean I wanted things to get blown up this much.

I have this conflict. I’m torn between guilt and hate.

The whole truth, the full truth, no holding back of certain pieces, no tweaking the words, is so hard to tell.

Complete transparency—it’s a relief you want to allow yourself, but the consequences associated with it are too hazardous to risk. So you sit there with a small bomb nested in your chest, sometimes able to pretend it isn’t there, but other times completely aware of its protruding presence. 

It would be nice to tell some absolutely everything. But it’s also the most terrifying thing in the world.

I don’t believe in never.

Teach me how to forget those memories. How do you forget anything? I want to forget….

Why am I drawn to tragedy….

Drawn to the more tragic parts of life..

I’m self-destructive.

Self-destructive to the point of insanity.

Because only I can control it.

& there’s something familiar about losing control.

Something comforting about destroying myself.

Maybe if I manage to become nothing, become torn into a million pieces..

I can be reborn. Start fresh. Have a new beginning. 

Sunshine, warm breezes, soft air..

All of that comes after total destruction.

Or does it?

This entire blog right now is too painful to read. I can’t even go back and read anything on here.

All it does is remind me of how much of a failure I am..of how weak I am. It’s a reminder of everything terrible.

I need to get serious. I need to do this. If I want what I want, then I need to listen, and do what I should’ve done so long ago. 

Come on, Farah. Just listen for once. Just do it already, once and for all. Would you rather not do it and suffer continuously? Or suffer for just a little bit right now and be happy later? 

The cycle needs to end. This has to be done. It can be done. One month. That’s all. One month.

Give me grace…