sWell (shakewell) wrote,

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letters from kansas

i wrote this in my journal sometime during the fall of 2003, probably right after visiting indiana over thanksgiving break.

i'm beginning to fear there is nothing to come home to. or, not so much nothing, as things i'm not going to like. the people seem different. but maybe i'm the one who is changing. i can't tell anymore. all i know is that my head hurts more and more every day. more stress. more pain. more sadness. more frustration. maybe i'm realizing how truly hopeless my life, and life in general, really is. i'm not going anywhere. i've traveled 700 miles to take one step in the right direction and at least ten in the wrong ones. we all make mistakes, but shouldn't i be learning from them by now? i'm not. i'm certain of that. even when i know my thoughts and actions are wrong, i continue them. self-destruction. some scars never heal, especially the ones you pick at and reopen everyday. but i just can't leave them alone. sometimes i think i'm afraid to let myself get better. to be happy.

when am i going to grow up? get over all of this? in my head i know it's nothing. life is fleeting, right? enjoy it while it lasts. forgive and forget. move on.

move on.

and stop listening to the same sad songs. stop looking in the mirror when you already know you're going to hate what you see. stop cutting. stop crying. stop reliving those terrible times. let them go. let it all go. just let go. live.

i think i need to stop thinking.

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