furiousstarlightmiracle

[furiousstarlightmiracle]

sometimes the way I'm trying to get love feels like begging her for it. I feel like I am a small child, and I am begging my mother for some semblance of affection that, for some reason, she refuses to give. And this upsets me deeply because I feel as though I love a bit too much. I love to mucha nd that is my vice. You see, my friends tell me that I did not come on too strong, but I know they're lying to me because of the way she acts. I should probably hate her, but I don't. I don't think it would be rational to. After all, good friendships are harder to come by than a relationship.

[furiousstarlightmiracle]

From February 16 to 17, 1913 Letters to Felice by Franz Kafka First published : 1973

[furiousstarlightmiracle]

Dont move around a lot

The title sounds very vague, however, I promise I have a very good reason for it. When I was younger, my family had several moves. And I don't mean we were moving every single year; I just mean that we moved about five times in my entire childhood + teen years combined. All moves leading up to the fifth had no significant effects on me. After our fourth move, my parents decided to settle down for a while. So from 2nd grade till 6th grade, I stayed in the same small town in the Central Valley of California (iykyk). My family had thrown down some pretty good roots, we had established good relationships in our community, we had a stable school life, and I had made a pretty solid friend group. As my friends, I would hang out often after school and play in the neighborhood until we were called in for dinner (typical childhood run-of-the-mill neighborhood activities). But then, in 6th grade, my parents got a divorce (it was a very long time coming). My father moved to Los Angeles, leaving my brother, mom, and me in what I had started calling my hometown. Eventually, we moved closer to LA to make everything "easier on everyone" (my mom's decision, even though my brother and I both knew it was to be closer to her then-boyfriend). This happened just as I was going to middle school. Everyone had friends already and had established companionships with people from their elementary. Then there was me, two hours away from where I had spent most of my time and away from relationships I had carefully cultivated over four years. 8th grade was my turning point. As rough as 7th grade had been, with the combination of some awesome people and my band director, I had made my own community. There was still one problem, though. I had known this leading up to my move, but I don't think any amount of preparing could have helped lessen the pain that I felt. There was this divide between the other kids and me, even the ones I had befriended. Even now, I still don't know how to break it. Whenever I wasn't invited to sleepovers or hangouts, there was always the excuse of, "Well, it's just people from our elementary days!" or "It's just people from our original friend group". I don't know why people go out of their way to exclude people whom they claim they have welcomed into their inner circle. And it wasnt like i had just become friends with these people wither, There were the people who i had spent their and my own birthdays with, graduation, ups and downs, been there through tough times, eaten food with them, and shared secrets that can only be said under the cover of night. These were people who I had begun to consider my closest friends, and yet I could never seem to break the barrier between someone who had just joined in. Some weirdo who no one knew yet, a friend you just saw at school. It broke my heart heavily because I would remember the community I had left behind whenever I would get excluded. I couldn't help but feel like that hopeless little girl who had just moved to a new elementary, fighting for someone to play with her, only to have to get used to her own solitude under an oak tree.