midnightgazingthoughts-blog

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I can't wait for the day I no longer have to spend the nights alone..

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Long Distance

As the days pass by, getting closer to when I see you again, everything seems to shift. My depression like state turns into excitement and everything becomes more exciting. From walking to my car to cleaning my bathroom everything starts slowing regaining color again with the fact that you will soon be with me. 3 days. I have either already cleaned my room, preparing for you to come out to Indiana PA or I have packed, unpacked and repacked my clothing, mentally preparing for the five hour trip to my hometown. I will see you for maybe 2-3 days, but any second that I am with you is better than being 277 miles apart. 2 days. It's getting closer. I have started to count down the hours. But even though people say that the days are passing quickly, everything seems longer and every moment seems to drag by, as if Father Time himself is pulling the hands of the clock backward to extend this dreadful time apart. But that is fine. Because Father Time cannot keep us apart for much longer. 1 day. I wait excitedly for sleep to come. One more sleep and we will be together. I wear your t-shirt to bed for the last time, your scent barely there anymore. You gave me enough shirts to get me Through these days but they never seem to be quite enough to fill your void. I treat them like little gems, being careful to only wear them when I sleep because that is when I miss you the most. Why? Because while my dreams are riddled with images and hopes of you, when I am jolted awake by my alarm, I cannot help but turn over and sigh, because you are still not there. 12 hours. The world finally picks up speed. Classes fly, and everything starts going right again. All of my bad luck changes and everything goes smoothly. You are so close I can almost smell it, almost feel your embrace or the touch of your lips against mine. It's time. When you arrive, it is nothing like they portray in movies. It's better. We quickly fall into a routine of laughter and smiles. No moment is too brief to give or receive a peck, no situation too serious to crack a joke, and no second is lonely anymore because we are back together. But just as everything gets good again, the world shifts back. The impending doom of either one of us having to leave settles over us at some point. Our laughs get more quiet. Our gazes get lowered and more intent. The looks in our eyes go from being engulfed in joy to being drenched in sadness. Leaving is always the hardest part. The fear that every hug or kiss being the last one for weeks strikes the heart, causing small pieces to fall each time. One more hug. One more kiss. One more time to tell you I love you. One more time I can lace my fingers through yours. We both know it's not forever, but it doesn't make the pain any less. As you pull away in your car, there is one final blow that leaves my heart in molecular pieces. I see the sadness in your eyes, reflecting my own. Your car becomes smaller and the countdown starts again.

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Everybody thinks depression is just somebody cutting themselves in the shower or sitting in their bedrooms alone overdosing on pills, but it's not. They think anxiety is just somebody not wanting to answer the phone or not being able to go into crowds. But that isn't how it is for everybody. My depression is hidden. It's laying in my dorm room with my roommate sleeping 10 feet away, wanting to find all the pills in our room and swallow them all. It's looking in my mirror and seeing my progress in weight loss but knowing its not enough. It's the feeling of constantly drowning in my own emotions because I just don't wanna be alive anymore. I know it would hurt others, but at least I would be able to escape. It's laying in bed for 4 hours after I wake up because I see no point in getting up. It's expecting the worst from every situation, even if it is as simple as asking somebody what day it is. My anxiety is physical, like a million people leaning on my back, asking for me to carry them and their burdens with me. It's the crippling fear that none of my friends like me, even if we just hung out the day before. It's being able to go into a crowd if I know that people aren't going to be looking at me, but when I know they will, it's like the constant build up of feeling like you're going to puke. My anxiety is me always being on my phone because I can't just be doing one thing. It's looking beside somebody's head when I'm having a conversation or looking at their forehead instead of their eyes. It's laying in bed staring at the ceiling for hours but when I finally fall asleep, it's seeing for 10-12 hours at a shot. My mental instability isn't anybody's fault. Nothing in my past could have prevented this. Nothing my parents could have done or said could have prevented how I feel. When I told my brother I might try and go on anxiety pills, he told me I was just a high strung person and that I had no reason to be anxious, and he is right. I don't have a reason, but when he later asked what I was anxious about, I could only say one word. Everything. I know it's irrational and I wish I could change it for the better, but I have come to realize that I can't do it on my own. And that's okay.

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I'm tired of never being good enough for people

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I wish I had some answers. You weren't ready for a relationship and less than 2 weeks later, you are in one. How does that work? I know you weren't mine to be upset over but these kinds of things happen to me. So I am not upset over you, I'm upset over it all. I'm glad your happy. I just wanna know why I can't be happy...

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Also Me

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Me

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An Angel?

She called me an angel. An action so simple and second nature, and that is what she called me.

Today, I took about 8 hours of my day to drive my 70-ish year old grandmother and my 13 year old cousin to craft shows and other places. This may not seem like a big deal, but it is. My grandmother is a very independent Italian woman who does not take anybody’s shit usually, but she has been having issues with her eyes (she is getting surgery Thursday and has already had cataracts removed from both eyes). My grandmother and my cousin normally go to these craft shows alone, or with my grandmothers one neighbor, who passed away in the past year or so, but were almost not able to because my aunt and uncle said that “they only have one daughter” to my grandmother and that they were afraid something would happen because of my grandmothers eye. The woman can see relatively well. If she couldn’t, they would have said she couldn’t drive until after healing from the surgery, but they did not. My grandmother told my family and I this and I decided to step in, offering to drive them to and from the craft shows. Before today, I had not seen my cousin in months, maybe even over a year. Well, after proposing me driving to my aunt and uncle, they said I would be allowed to drive the two. All went smoothly, happy joy, right? Well, after taking my cousin back to her house, I was with my grandmother a little bit longer, and she gave me a hug, calling me an angel. I was so taken aback by this.

Why are people that do simple good deeds placed on pedestals? People should do good things for others whenever possible. We all have to live on this planet together, so why not try and make our time here kind and joyful? It makes no sense to me, but I guess I am just crazy.  In the modern world, good deeds apparently cannot go under the radar, and to some, that is a good thing, but to others, like me, it is unnecessary. Now, I am not sharing these stories on this blog for anybody to comment “oh if you don’t want praise for it, why are you sharing it?” Well, I am sharing them because, for me, it is just normal things that I would do normally, but I see more and more often, that people post a lot about their good deeds because they want the praise for them. I don’t. I do the good deeds because is the right thing to do. 

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And still I feel, I said too much. My silence is my self defense

Billy Joel “So It Goes”