reblogged from moleskine lovers.

from me:  HERE’S LOOKING AT YOU, TIMBER.

Isolation is suicide is isolation

But one person can fly

Far and free -

Quietly and silently

I prepare.

I bleed without you.

There is no greater grief than the stillness of silent and ultimate solitude.

moleskinelovers:

http://discoveringsunshine.tumblr.com

What if, indeed?  I’m failing on one of the steps towards that RIGHT NOW.

I would like to think that I have chosen solitude.

But it has chosen me.

I AM NO ONE’S PRIORITY.

One of these days, I’ll adjust.

One of these days, I’ll be all I need, everything I need.

I will no longer need people.

It will be a beautiful utopia, with only myself, plain and beautiful and solitary.

There will be books, there will be beautiful music, and there will be art, and these things will feed my soul, fill it up.

And words and pictures and notes will flow from me, the muse courting my intellect.

I AM MY OWN PRIORITY.

(but i am still alone-

The only reason I haven’t committed suicide:

It would be easy.  And I know that life is never easy, so I feel suspicious of trying.

There’d be complications, and I have this ghost of a feeling that I am meant to do something in this world, even if I have no idea what that is.

So I live with my ghosts.  I get up every day, and I try harder.

But it’s getting harder and harder to do.   The recent brush with a potential relationship has thrown how alone I am into direct relief.  It’s extremely painful.   I have no idea what to do.

I am pretty convinced that there’s a problem with me.  

What I’ve been working on, is working on the depression and anxiety, and trying to get into grad school, to get a better job, so that I can be more independent, and take care of myself better.

I don’t have anything left for more work.

It feels like it’s more important to do the work on myself, for independence, than to work on whatever the hell is wrong with me as far as relationships go.

Which means I’ll just only be more alone.

I Hate him, for tempting me into being vulnerable.  Hate the fact that I took my trust and extended it, leaned out with it, and was lied to again.  Ignored.  Unimportant.  Nobody’s priority.

That’s me. 

Nobody’s priority.

Alone.

I liked the way you touched me

The gentleness of the caress - your hands on my face-

The way you asked permission before your hands wandered further

I was confused by your boasting

Who am I, to expect someone

To be more than they are?

I showed you everything

Wondering if you would run

Because it’s usually easier

The quicker someone flees.

You didn’t run.

Instead, you left me alone. 

An old fashioned sort of alone

The standing up of a date not once but twice-

And when I reacted in fear,

Angry hurt shouting out of me-

Now, now, you have run.

It is confirmed, in my mind, in my heart.

I am too much for anyone to bear.

I am ever alone.

But I will remember the scant moments of you

Cupping my face and stroking my cheek

And let myself dream-

But only when I am weak.

I hurt, hard.  

You could make an argument as to whether it was predictable or unpredictable.   I trusted someone not to be careless with me, not to hurt me. 

I was wrong to trust. Two days of crying heartbreak into a soggy pillow, me who never cries, me who always has words to describe how I’m feeling, so I don’t have to cry.

I also lost my temper.  Told the person who hurt me two mean, nasty things.

And in the end, I’m the bad guy, because I lost my temper and called someone a liar.

The despair in that is incredible.

I don’t know if I am strong enough to survive this one.