Escape the Maze

Happy. I'd almost forgotten what it's like. It felt so good out there, laughing and smiling, having fun while singing and dancing. It feels fucking amazing. I haven't felt that good in a really long time. I notice it every day, how my smile becomes more natural, my laugh comes to me more easily. And it's refreshing. Relieving. It's been a long time since happiness was this simple for me, and it's about damn time. I don't know what's changed. Or rather, I don't know what caused the change. So many things have been happening in my life lately, and maybe that's the reason. I'm learning new things, doing fascinating tasks and meeting different people. Everything is changing, but instead of being scary, it's wonderful. I'm not afraid of the change anymore, instead I welcome it, I look forward to it. Every day is a new day for me, a new day to change my life, to grow more comfortable with myself and around other people. I feel good just s...

Write and never stop, let it all pour out. So much has been happening, so many thoughts and words that I'd like to say, that I'm too afraid to say. Everything, everyone,  scares me. I fear love more than anything. I've been pushing them away, why? Force of habit. I miss you, her, him, them. I can't stand the loneliness that makes my heart ache and my bones shatter. A deep piercing in my chest, low and powerful. Like a single bass note, hitting me square in the heart. I connect with music, I feel with music, I always have and I always will. It's so confusing, but not to me, it shouldn't be. I feel in music, I describe pain as notes and songs and sounds are how I keep myself awake and aware. As I feel more and write quickly my sentences run together and words become paragraphs become pages and all without commas because I can't stop for breath or I'll forget all I have to say. New topics constantly popping up in my mind, words and feelings that I have no...

I've stopped myself from loving. I've prevented seeds from growing, afraid I wouldn't be able to care for them. They might be planted in enriched soil, but they would never get the sun or rain they would need. I've ripped out bits of green poking out of the ground, because they were growing too strong for my liking. I stare at blossoming fields in jealousy, because my flowers aren't that pretty. Yet, I don't let them grow. I tear them at the roots, pull them from the dirt, because I am afraid. What if my flowers aren't beautiful? Maybe they will require more nurturing than I can provide. I prefer having no flowers at all, a simple patch of healthy soil, than flowers that might not even fully bloom. I found this note on my phone, last edited in August of 2015. It hurts me to say this, but even today I still feel this way. I have been struggling with this very phenomenon a lot lately. Love is a funny thing. Every day, every person I talk to, I have to fight...

This past week hasn't been easy for me, and I've been writing lots of angry rants. They're piling up on my phone and in my mind and I need to get them out, need to get rid of them, even if no one sees it, even if it will hurt some people, I just have to let it go and I can't do that if they're just sitting in my own dark corner, I need to set them free so I can let go of them. The problem with chocolate is, as soon as I take the first bite, I'm craving it for like a week. I don't actually care enough to do something about it. It's days like this, when I just don't care enough, that throw me off track the most. I want to eat something and I know I shouldn't, so either way I lose. Either I eat some crap I shouldn't or I force myself to not eat and end up hungry. I don't know which is the worse of the two. Usually I eat shit just because not eating is a terrifying habit that's much more addicting. Either way I end up tired and in pain....

I just noticed the strangest thing. I consider myself a relatively open person, sharing my stories and experiences with no second thought. I will always be honest about how I'm feeling, and I will allow you to see me with no shield stopping you. But I also realize that I fight every step of it. I will tell you my trauma, and then hold against you the way you react. I will tell you truthfully what my emotions are, but I won't always tell you why. I will tell you I have difficulty trusting you, but I won't show you the extent of it. If you enter my life, I guarantee you will hurt me. Not because you mean to, or because I am overly sensitive. In fact, people say many things to me that others would find offensive, and I do not. No, you will hurt me because I want you to. I search for a way, a reason, to prove to myself that you are not trustworthy. I will put you in uncomfortable positions because I want to show myself that you will always end up hurting me. I do this uncon...

Busy few weeks, boys galore. There was a time in my life, not so long ago, that I truly believed that there are no good men in this world. Although I've met plenty of boys, guys, and men, more often than not they have turned out to be completely different from what I thought, hoped and expected. Many of them have disappointed me, even those I didn't expect much from. In short, I have been let down by boys many times. Recently, I realized that not all men are the same. Not in a cliche way either. It's not that before I thought all men were the same, I was just so deeply touched and traumatized that it was hard for me to even hope that there was a decent guy somewhere out there. It took multiple years, but I have started to open my mind and accept guys. In general, throughout my life, I have tried not to judge people, to accept everyone and make everyone feel validated. But as one of my friends pointed out to me, I often only extend that kindness to girls and women. While I...

Exhausted. Hurting. Happy. These past few days, weeks, months? have all blurred into a few short moments. Between sleep and pain, work and travel, I can't keep track of time that passes. How am I doing? Fine, good. I'm making friends, but next week I'm leaving them. I've had such loud thoughts, that disappear as soon as I start to write. Coffee slows me down. I've never had such silence. All that time alone, just me and my thoughts and instagram poems. So many words, how can I be significant in the ocean of writers? Every time I read something or its comments, my inspiration goes up. This is what I want to do, what I want to be. I can't wait til it's my book being released. How I'd love to inspire people, motivate them, make them feel the way others make me feel. I've been writing a lot lately, but no one has seen it. My notebook is stashed, I've been sleeping with it under my pillow. It's easier for me to access it there. Work is good for...