watercolored-life

[watercolored-life]

I’m so empty and I know that no amount of learning, reading, writing, exercising, talking, creating, or even getting angry will ever fill me up. It’s like pouring water into a cup that has a cracked bottom. It’s all slipping out and it means nothing. I mean nothing to anyone. I am simply out here floating around trying to fill myself up with these little cheap things when in reality nothing that can be bought with fix me. What do I do?

[watercolored-life]

Describe love in 10 words or less:

My sister, of course it’s her, it’s always my sister.

[watercolored-life]

Be quiet while I spam you with fifty texts that don’t say the big thing that all of them have in the subtext.

I miss you.

[watercolored-life]

When you’re listening to this song and all of the sudden you’re freshly sixteen again sitting in an IHOP at 11:00 PM with some of your best friends in the world talking. The only thing in the world that you are afraid of is going home at the end of the night.

[watercolored-life]

I lost hope a long time ago. Now it feels like I’m just waiting out the days even though I don’t know what lies at the end of the road. I have no strings attached, I am simply wandering hopeless through this wasteland with nothing to look forward to.

I lost hope a long time ago and my chest is heavy and I feel like a child who lost their mother in the supermarket and can’t find her. All the other adults look scary and all the shelves are too high for me to reach and I’m at least halfway sure that I will be kidnapped. Except I still haven’t found my mother.

I don’t know what I’m looking for. I’m just wandering around the supermarket aimlessly looking for something. I just don’t know what.

[watercolored-life]

How many times will I be the one who has to listen to that damn voice messaging system? Why can’t you just answer?

[watercolored-life]

I do hope their is a universe somewhere where they never had me and they just got to be young together. My dad’s music career worked out and I didn’t become Their obligation. Their way to raise a family. My mom got to be young and play college soccer and do everything she wanted. My dad got to be everything that he was meant for and play for stadiums filled with people and use all his talents to make the lives of fifty million people better.

I really hope they got to live their dreams somewhere, even if it means that I don’t exist.

[watercolored-life]

Because even listening to your silence is better than listening to anyone else’s noise

[watercolored-life]

I find it hard to believe that any of them miss me at all. I’m so sick of the pain and awareness that accompanies growing up.

[watercolored-life]

I actually feel like this song a lot.

[watercolored-life]

I want to wear a lot of rings and dress myself in cool clothes and be pretty and maybe get my nails done and know how to do my makeup good and be a woman instead of the child that was too busy surviving.

[watercolored-life]

I miss my mother. Despite her exhaustion and the fact that she gave up. I miss her and I miss what she meant to me.

[watercolored-life]

I feel sick and tired and my body temperature is too hot but my heart and soul and too cold and I want to be a little kid again and I want to live each day not wanting to end everything.

[watercolored-life]

I carry my baggage around like a small child carries around a battered stuffed animal.

The guilt of being the first born child and ruining my parents lives.

The resentment towards my mother that I had to raise my siblings.

This bitter anger towards my current place in life.

The fear that all my potential is going to waste.

This pent up energy from constantly being alone with no one to turn to.

The knowledge that I am not good enough at anything.

These bags seem to weigh on me and I have no one to tell. Nobody to turn to. Sometimes I don’t know how I can go on.

[watercolored-life]

Just looked in the mirror and I’m happy to report that on top of my life being a total shit-show, I am also ugly.

[watercolored-life]

Hey mom, I don’t think I can explain it anymore. I don’t want to go back, my stomach is turning and my teeth feel wrong in my mouth and I can’t seem to get up again. I don’t want to leave mom. Even though I know I need to. I just can’t seem to think right anymore.

[watercolored-life]

Remember all those good times baby? I’m starting to realize that maybe they weren’t that good. Maybe we just knew how to find good in the shards of the cracked mirror. Maybe we knew how to see the light on the water that was drowning us. Maybe we found good where there was nothing but dirty laundry, black eyes, and broken windows.