Tuesday, December 15, 2015

Puberty (abandoning all the rules of writing and making sense)

These feel less like growing pains the older we get and more just like pain. 
Why haven't these things been dealt with?  
Why do I still feel these debilitating pangs I felt so frequently when we were younger?
Screaming at the top of my breath because I can't let anyone hear the sound I'd make if I could articulate whatever this is going on inside me. 
The, ridiculous, self loathing; so intricately built and sturdy, indestructible, I fear. 
The worst case scenario scenes playing on a loop while I try to keep whatever life I stitched together with my shaky hands from tearing apart. I don't even know for sure if anyone is threatening it with scissors. 
I let myself feel too safe. 
Too comfortable.
It's terrifying. 
So, we prepare. 
We used to call each other for help with these things. Don't you feel like it's gotten old? Like we're just talking to ourselves, and we've already tried to hard to pull each other out of the mess, the quicksand that's never as bad as we think? Our lives keep happening in different time zones. And maybe this is just life. Maybe this is it. Maybe we'll always need the pep talks. And maybe everything will always be generally more down than up. Is this what it's like to be an adult? To feel like we did in high school, but with bills to pay, and live in boyfriends, and jobs, and no Christmas break, no breaks ever from anything?
I know, just stop. We're better than this.  
We'll get our shit together. 
Let's just blame it on the moon, my sunshine...