this is how you remember yourself

it is so odd to look back at what your life has been made up of up until the point you are now. it is strange to remember how you saw things when you were in them and how you see them now. how when you think you've severed your past to the point where you can regail yourself or others with the tale without it affecting you the way it once did, it hurts in a completely different way. i'm so achey lately. i'm busy, and therefore not depressed, which is good and terrible all at the same time, because it means i am simutaneously feeling better and doing a damn good job ignoring what God wants to teach me about my self-worth. and how it isn't conditional. a point i have a hard time registering for whatever reason. i perform. and measure my successes and failures against a backdrop of expectations i am not meant to meet. a good friend told me recently that i, specifically, was not designed to lead a conventional life, so i might as well stop beating myself up for not doing so. it sounds good. my thick skull, however, is making absorption of these truths quite difficult.

i think i've finally realized what a choke hold my pride has me in. i have so much love inside of me. this boiling, painful, pure love that i rarely express. atleast not in the way i want to. and definately not to all the people my heart catapults towards when they come to mind, or if i'm lucky, present themselves before me. why do i spend so much time longing and so much time being afraid of the very things i long for? there are moments, fleeting moments, usually when i am driving in a car alone, that i really do believe that God has good things planned for me, but the one thought that drowns that security is the thought that He did and still does, but i have done, and will continue to do, too many things to screw it up. that i've given away too much of my heart, so it will never be "right" enough to make love last. that i've given away too much of my body, so that it will never be "good enough" to offer to anyone again. that i've been too foolish. flaky. dishonest. and selfish. that i will get old and tired of waiting. i do not trust myself. i don't trust myself to know the difference between lasting love and the kind that turns it's fangs on you. i spend a lot of time lying in my bed at night. alone. listening to sad songs hoping to cry. but the knot in my throat won't budge. it can't be good to go this long without some sort of waterworks. even if i don't like to cry, i know that tearing up at one episode of 'extreme makeover home edition' in the last two months is not exactly healthy. i have a love/hate relationship with the connection my heart has to words. it seems a song can come on the radio and i'm helpless to stop the direction my brain goes with whatever memories the lyrics have conjured up. i can simutaneously daydream and talk myself down from whatever fairy tale life i've imagined. i get so scared of losing things i don't even have. i think fall is just a hard time for me. too many anniversaries. anniversaries of endings. but i hope they are also anniversaries of beginnings. beginnings that have not come to be...yet.