-
December 16, 2009
-
Ventilation.
I’m happy right now. I really am. I used to live a rough life. Well, it wasn’t rough in that Compton-esque sense. It was rough because I was misinterpreting my feelings. I was taking them in totally wrong because I had never been through a break up. Break ups are weird. They make you do things you’d never think you would ever do. And with that said, I pretty much fucked up my life. I fucked up my acceptance to SDSU, and SFSU in a sense because I didn’t take the chance to live the dream I always had (I don’t know why I still have that acceptance letter). I turned to drugs because, sadly, drugs were always there. No matter where I was, I could find some. If you knew me back then and you were looking for a quick dub or a pill or anything, you would call me. So, its only obvious where I crawled to when my feelings were too much to handle. Forgive me, this is all the past. But this is the baggage that I learned to drop. I’m happy, but this baggage fucked up my life so much that if I think about one little thing that could be connected in the web of fucked up-ness that my first break up brought me, I start to sort through it.
My mom was crying this morning. I started sorting through my baggage because of why she was crying. My mom was crying because my cousins mom was crying because my cousin is going through a fucking break up. Give or take, his break up was much more dramatic and the relationship he had was much more important than mine, but who’s allowed to measure that shit? What’s irritating me is that she feels for my cousin so much, that she’s crying up a storm. She feels so bad for him because his mom told her that my cousin can’t stop crying. That he won’t eat. That he needs to move back with his mom because he’s so fucking sad. Don’t get me wrong, I feel bad too. I sympathize totally. And with that said, I’m irritated with my mom.
I’m irritated because she couldn’t feel for me when I was going through all that bullshit. She couldn’t feel for me because I’m gay.
I’m starting a new paragraph again because after I typed that sentence, my heart fell. But its true. Back then, she couldn’t stand me having a girlfriend so of course she didn’t care that we broke up (fyi, it was my first gf of 2 years and then some. She was my highschool sweetheart. This wasn’t just a stupid relationship. I learned about love and what it was. Okay, carry on). She thought I was over reacting when I told her. Its funny how I told her because I spent two years lying to her because I had to lie every time I was going to see my girlfriend because my mother would have never let me see her. I told her we broke up because I needed her. I wanted her love and I wanted her to care and I wanted her to cry with me, like how she’s crying with my cousin.
And it tears me apart because maybe if she did care that I was non stop crying, not eating, and just wanting her attention, and maybe if she was crying with me, maybe my life would have been different. Maybe I would have been able to use my mothers love as leverage to get myself back up on my feet. Maybe I would have been able to suck it up at SDSU. Maybe I wouldn’t have turned to drugs.
But since I did, my life is full of maybe’s. I deal with it. Don’t think my having a pity party. When you make a lot of wrong decisions at a pivotal point in your life, you can easily have sleepless nights thinking about it. And I think that’s a good thing. We review history so that we don’t make the same mistakes. That’s all. I just wanted that out here. I’m happy. I really am. Its just that baggage. You can drop that baggage. But you’ll always know where you dropped it.
2 days ago -
-
December 15, 2009
-
-
-
-
-
December 14, 2009
-
