RoseElephant copy.jpg
  • dearabi

>Dear Diary 2/7/2011

>I feel like a zombie, but I’m wide awake. I’m hearing, but not listening. I’m looking, but not seeing. I’m breathing, but barely. My heart rate is fine, I think. And I don’t feel any anxiety, at least not yet. But I am choking.

Choking on these emotions I promised I would never allow myself to feel again. Trying to make sense of things that shouldn’t even matter but do. And now I’m manifesting these thoughts into voices. They’re yelling at me. Telling me it’s all my fault and now they have to go and clean up the mess I made – AGAIN. I can hear me in my head now too. I’m crying. I hate when I cry. I’m apologizing through my sobs, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” The me in my head is sitting in a corner, her head down and arms wrapped around her knees.

But in reality, I can’t see the tears going down my eyes so I gotta make the blog cry? That’s by far the most corniest shit I’ve ever said but it’s true. Have you ever heard something so funny that it made you laugh so hard that you opened your mouth and absolutely nothing came out? Or when you know you dun fucked up and your mom is so pissed at you that instead of whipping your ass she gives you “the look,” which is then followed by silent treatment and it’s so bad you wish she’d just beat your ass? Like seriously, you want to just hand her the belt yourself?! It’s kinda like that.

Except. I am so disappointed, frustrated, and dare I say it even heartbroken that my body doesn’t know how to deal with it … and so it doesn’t.

Instead of cry, scream, break things, or punch walls – I do absolutely nothing. And that’s the part that scares me the most.

0 views

Recent Posts

See All

The Countdown.

T - 31 Days: The Lease. I knew this time would eventually come. Something to break my heart and make it real. I didn't need to sign it until the 6th, but I signed it on the 2nd. I purposely scheduled

I Still Choose You.

I unpack all my boxes. I have dinner with friends. I borrow three forks. And a box cutter. And a wine opener. I put new sheets on my bed. I don’t cry. My mom comes over to keep me company for a few da

The Sunday Sads.

Sundays were made for lazing in bed. Pancakes for breakfast and tummy scratches. The farmer's market and taking your time, to lay in the grass, to soak in the sunshine, to listen to kids playing in th

  • White Facebook Icon
  • White Twitter Icon
  • White Instagram Icon

© 2020 I'll make you feel things.