I’ve been trying to figure out why I’ve been having such a hard time writing lately.  It’s as if my fingers get stuck on the letters, they don’t know which letter comes next… like amnesia.  Or backwards muscle memory.  Today, after a day of food and fun with Hayati and a Wilson Phillips song, I had a meltdown.  As I sit here in the dark, writing this through my tears, I get it.

I can’t write because when I do, I write my feelings. And the block isn’t because I can’t pinpoint which emotion it is I’m feeling exactly, but because I haven’t allowed myself to feel anything. *cue Frank Ocean’s Novacane*

I have no words of wisdom, no answers or solutions to my problems.  All I have is a brain fart that I may want to delete in the morning. But for right now, these are my truths.  Un-linear.  Staccato. 

I. AM. TERRIFIED. Most especially of failure.   Hindsight is always 20/20.  Wrong choices feel like right ones at the time, they always do.  You always feel like you know what you’re doing, or you’re making the right decision until they smack you across the face.  I find myself second guessing the choices I’ve made recently…I’m not sure I’m too concerned about doing the right thing, as I am with doing the BEST thing for me.  I am searching everywhere for answers.

I have too much pride and not enough self-esteem.  This leads to the need for constant reassurance and the need to over-exert myself.  Sometimes I spread myself too thin because I’d rather focus on your problems than focus on mine. When mine don’t seem real, they no longer exist.  I’m slowly learning that even though they might not be verbalized, they need to be acknowledged. 

Alcohol doesn’t do much but pause life for a second and I feel like I’ve been on pause for awhile now.   Is there a fast foward to this thing?  

Being single… sucks.  Not that I think I’m better off in a relationship because I can do bad all by myself.   Just that, I feel that love gets lost in translation.  I’m not concerned with what a man can offer me,  more with what he’s able to teach me.  The last thing a man taught me was the dougie….

I need a creative outlet, other than this blog.  “Be careful who you open up to.  Only a few people actually care, the rest are just curious.”   Curiosity killed the cat and cattin’ off is killin’ me. 

I was told last night that I was strong woman.  I told him it was because I didn’t have a choice.   I don’t care to be strong.  My only concern right now is my health and my happiness.   I understand that happiness isn’t a destination but a state of mind, and I know everything that shines ain’t always gonna be gold.  I know this, but I still struggle. 

I’m struggling.  Still.