prozacprincesa

[prozacprincesa]

fear of being alone 05.12

After an anxiety attack over a missing suitcase, I decided that I would write again. About my life, myself, my experiences. I feel like I’m in high school after spending 50 something days inside of my parents’ home and my childhood bedroom no matter how different it looks or how many pop punk posters I tore down mid-quarantine. I’m so unsure of what’s going on 99% of the time and I genuinely cry over the simplest things lately. 

I wish this would scream words of wisdom out in your face but honestly all that pops to my mind when I try to start a blog is that line: “My teen angst bullshit has a body count!” But I’m no Veronica or a teenager- and I don’t have a JD- at least not anymore. 

So that’s where this leads I guess. I was on my second instagram account and I saw that someone I decided to part ways with- by part ways I mean blocking them on everything from Instagram to G Suite, I’ve had too many sick fucks email me when they had no other options. I forgot to delete him from my second instagram so when I notice that he liked the most recent photo that I posted of her- I stop and stare at the cracked cell screen for a minute. No contact for roughly two months from someone that I spoke to and saw daily for 5 months- spoke to daily for about a year. It felt both foreign and like nothing had changed for a split second. Like this was something normal for me that still happened. And for one stupid split second I thought maybe I was too harsh. I had my faults in this, too, but I often bared the blame for 100% of it. So yes that’s why we do not speak but maybe if I was less harsh, things could’ve gone better. 

I spent the last two months- the one before quarantine sleeping with men who I know did not value me- they bought me as many rum buckets and moscow mules as I wanted (more than I can handle), or they were a shoulder to cry on temporarily. Both of them have girlfriends now so girlfriends 1 me 0. I listened to angry breakup feminist anthems- You Should be Sad by Halsey broke several speakers in my cars and homes at this point in time. The Tiesto remix was the only song I allowed at pregames that wasn’t on ABBA’s Greatest Hits. I was angry. I bad-mouthed him beyond belief to my best friend and sister. I did not cry. I finally got sick of being mentally beaten down. 

I am somehow now unsure of where the line is drawn: how do you miss the times you spent with someone without wanting and missing them? I feel foolish to reach out but I’m over looking back to some of my most beautiful memories where I felt held, seen and loved and appreciated and giving and when I reach out to touch them and feel that way again- they disappear before my eyes.