#rantsbylaura

[rantsbylaura]

Late posted thoughts 1/14/15

I'm falling in love with an impossible boy.  A mix of reality and well crafted fiction. I'm taking words and phrases and applying them to this creature riddled with sadness and draped in mystery.

You are absolutely haunting.

[rantsbylaura]

breaking radio silence, more static.

What is the point of working so hard to be secure just to have an empty wallet, empty panty and empty heart at the end of each day. I work so hard to provide, I work to make life better for everyone except for myself. I can't enjoy the fruits of my labor. I feel like I haven't been myself. I am not me. I am a shell, hollow, empty, drained. Just. DONE.  These little white pills keep me floating. My own personal life saver. Oh, Lexapro, my little savior in an amber vial, you lower the volume of the screaming anxieties in my head, you level out the clashing chemicals in my head and calm those firing nerve endings and receptors. You turn my life off so I can pretend to get by. 

BUT THIS IS ALL A LIE. I feel as if I'm being shut down, my reality is false and flawed. I want to face my problems head on but I'm too weak. My strength is laughable. 

[rantsbylaura]

you can't make someone love you with a song.

I've slipped too far away from gentle coastlines. Drifting farther out to sea, I've lost my way home. I'm sinking because I'd rather drown than crash head first into the mess of rock and debris. I can only swim towards more hardships, so I'll sink. I've lost my will to fight.  The small white happy pills do more good than bad.  Nights spent with my mind on fire are not worth the seldom waking stability.  My chest swells and feels as if flames are about to leap out of my mouth.  My head spins and my body aches.  Tonight, I will soothe my empty head with songs I've all but forgotten.  Isn't it funny how something 11 years old will evoke the same reactions.  I guess I've just been sad since I was 13.  I guess some of you have been right all along. I am a loner, I am the strange little girl in the back of the room. I'm the one who is left standing alone again.  I'm the one who's face fades into the background.  How is it that I can be the same emotionally and mentally as I was as a stupid, silly, sad teenager?  I'm a fucking adult now.  I thought it was supposed to be fucking easier.  I have a good job, I own a car, I have a college education, I moved away from home when I had the chance.  All in all, I'm living the dream I spun myself.  If this is what I wanted, why is this darkness creeping in again?

If not drugs, nor therapy, nor drinking myself to sleep will help, then what will?

[rantsbylaura]

a break from the bleak.

Been slacking on the typing and replaced the nonsensical clicking and clacking of my aching fingers for my lakeside retreat with a tiny notebook clutched in my death grip. The roller coaster seems to have come to a stop, for now at least. At first it seemed like I was going to slam head first into a brick wall without any restraint, but the closer I got to absolute chaos, I was able to buckle myself in and brace for impact. Little by little, things started falling into place to save me. By the time the imminent destruction seemed it was going to happen, my tiny support system had held me in place and my projected disaster was nothing more than just a slight jerk forward.

I have tried to view things as they are, not creating an entire galaxy of problems from one tiny bit of lonely starlight. Just because there is one thing you can see, doesn't mean that there is an entire disaster waiting to unfold when you have a clearer look. Sometimes, a star is just a star, not a catastrophic black hole waiting to engulf you in darkness.

The darkness of my head still looms over me. Some days, it's a black cloud, preventing me from seeing anything else but despair, hugging me close and my insecurities come alive. I can hear them taunting me that I'll never be good enough, that I'll never come out of this alive.  But other days, it is just a haze. It's like a smoldering summer day when you can see the heat rising off the pavement.  You know that it's there, you can see it, but you can't reach out and grab it. I can see through the haze and easily gain composure and see the other side of life.  Bit by bit and step by step, I'm coming out of this one alive. I said not too long ago to C that I only write (here or in general) in times of overwhelming emotional situations and that I feel like I can only write about the dark side of life. But, here, sitting here with a sheepish half grin on my face, I'm finding it easier to be expressive in a positive way.  Sure, I can write the saddest tale of the girl far from home with no one to help, but what good of a story is that? I am trying to make my story a real one. There's no room for fantastical beings and notions in this tale, but there is a heroine.  There is the girl who you feel for and cheer for and want all the best for.  To all of you whose eyes grace this string of letters and verbal stream of consciousness, I hope that you can be on my side too.

[rantsbylaura]

sigh.

it's hard to pull away when every note and every song i hear you whisper alone makes me think it's for me and my ears alone that should be hearing you. i know you don't sing for me anymore, but wouldn't it be nice if you did. 

[rantsbylaura]

I have squandered my resistance for a pocketful of mumbles, such are promises

Its hard to write with paper cut wrists and demons dancing in your head. The noise is too loud to drown out, it boils and bubbles so until so it trickles in red drops out of my skin. It breaks free, a sweet release. Pain flowing freely and dancing down the delicate curves which long to be caressed. I can't help but nurse this broken heart from my own hand. I can't help but worry and read into every sigh, every breath and ever side snuck glance. I can't help but break my own heart, I can't help but worry about you. I read too far into every word you write, any inch you give me will be ran a mile long before you can tell me to be calm. The anxiousness of wondering if this can ever be mended is a tiresome dance. I struggle with just thinking if you're not as clever as I am, that a song is just a song and that the sly curling of your lips below those tired eyes is not for me. I long for the words whispered in darkness and listening to the sad song of your heavy heart. I should have let mine sing along that night, but it laid dead and silent. It cracked from being so delicate; one soft touch undid the fine craftsmanship to leave a million shards spinning out of control and falling all around me.

How do you mend yourself? Being truthful and honest seems like a good place to start. Who do you confide in about the monsters in your head, where do you run when you are the problem? One day I hope to find peace. A slip up and a cut up leaves me with miles of pain and millions of unanswered questions. If my destiny is in my own hands, why do I use them as vessels of destruction?

[rantsbylaura]

i never thought i'd need all this time alone.

[rantsbylaura]

August 14, 2013

And it's just my luck that you are never far.  When together is the last place we'd ever expect to be again.  There's a question marked shape hole in my heart where you used to wander in. My fragile heart beats frantically underneath paper thin skin.

You could read me like a book, but you don't like what you see on the cover. Really, who would want to be a secret lover? 

Ties that bind us lay broken in blankets and sheets. Our past is forgotten, no one dare speak of the nights spent tossing and turning over what comes next.  Now that next is upon us, we're silent.  My eyes always searching for you, always apologizing.  I'm sorry I'm so needy, I'm sorry I can't let you go.  I'm sorry for wanting to let go so many months ago.  My heart is torn, you're right here constantly, but the other is so far.  Too far to touch, too tired to speak.  I'm a mess of what if's and why nots.  I don't know what comes next again, all I know is that I'm missing out. 

[rantsbylaura]

it's me and the moon she says.

I feel shut off, unplugged and disconnected.  I am trapped on this emotional upheaval from hell.  I swing and sway almost effortless from happy to a complete, distraught mess.  I yearn for simple tasks which I used to hold dear to my heart. I can't clean, I can't craft, I can't paint and I don't know how I'm managing to write at the moment.  I guess I'm forcing myself amidst the humidity and smoke dancing around my head.  I just feel so tiny and insignificant sitting here on planet Earth staring at the moon.  

In nearly 24 years I still can't quite figure out why my brain decides to shut down when all my ducks are neatly in a row.  I have a job, I'm getting a better job in less than a week, my living situation is about to go from alone with Lily to with a really nice and down to earth roommate.  Why do dreams of blades and pain dance in my head each night? I'm searching for contentment.  A smile cracks across my face to a good song, but will my happiness run out when the music stops?  Moments of happiness and normalcy are fleeting and far between.  I'm just lost again I suppose. I only come here for an escape when I feel like I'm trapped between two worlds.  I'm losing the ability to put on a happy face and suck it up, but lately the sour, bitter side is shining through.  Maybe it is just work, my boss is a dick and I hate my job, but it feels the same when the name tag is off and I'm home laying in bed restless.  

S told me to stop giving a fuck about things I can't control back when we first started talking about more than beer at the pool.  The realistic, rational and overly dominant thought process I have has declared that really nothing is in my control.  I'm always asking permission or seeking approval from someone else.  I could slap a quick bandaid on the blues, but it doesn't seem quite as efficient as finding out why the hell I'm so depressed all the time.  Maybe I am just lonely. Or, maybe I am in fact a bitter bitch who will never be satisfied with anything.  Tonight, with that bright, white, distant rock shining down at me seems like a good night to sit and listen to songs and melodies which have calmed troubled seas before.  

I think my friend Andrew McMahon said it best, "I'm so tired of days that feel like the night".

I am tired, of many things, but I think what I am the most tired of is myself. 

[rantsbylaura]

Back to the grind..

Even when I stop to take a moment to breathe and just be alone, I feel myself perpetually smothered with thoughts and worries.  I am absolutely petrified of what my future holds in store for me.  Will I wander up and down the coast until I can find solace and peace?  My failed attempts and finding a sanctuary both physically and spiritually are pathetic.  A bible whose pages have barely seen the light of day sits on the nightstand.  Pages filled with words, wisdom and the apparent instructions on how to live a good life lay unnoticed.  Am I abandoning my attempts to reconnect with my faith?  I don’t even know what to do anymore.  I sought solace in the church.  I am not very religious, nor spiritual and I don’t fully understand if it is my own ignorance or my own fears preventing it.  My lifestyle does not truly support a strong faith based one.  I have questionable morals and my values are often not brought into play.  Perhaps faith is the one rock and anchor I am swimming away from as I drown in my sea of misery.  I am not sure if this is the answer I’m searching for, but I cannot truly grasp why I am straying from it. 

I’m always in search of a sign or some message to validate my life.  I feel small and meaningless.  I should not think of death as an easy answer to problems as trivial as moving.  I do not know why I am wired to seek out the worst.  I feel hopeless and trapped in this skin.  I just don’t get it.  I want so much in this life, I’m vigorously working towards goals that seem unreachable and with every bump in the road, and I want to give everything away.  I’m tired and beaten down by reality.  Perhaps I want too much?  Am I overwhelming myself in this life?  Am I really asking for too much?  I don’t really know anymore. 

This sense of perpetually losing emerged probably when I was 20 years old or so.  The closer I got to graduation and ending that chapter of my life the more anxiety ridden I became.  I am close to being a perfectionist, that is a major issue.  I carry a heavy burden even when it is the lightest of loads.  Everything weighs heavy on me. I care far too much about the actions and decisions of others.  I know that I need only to care about Laura and the life of Laura, but why do I obsess and worry over the stupidity and carelessness of others?  In a work environment, I justify this to myself by saying that their mistakes and laziness will inevitably make my life harder in some way or another.  I struggle with my own work ethic.  I am not a lazy person, but I find myself shrugging responsibility and justifying it with, oh well, so and so doesn’t do it for me so why should I do it for them?  But that is so wrong.  I must always strive to be the best Laura I can be.  I can’t help but wonder if the best Laura I can be is a standard I have set so high and can’t achieve.  I am not perfect; I have no desire to be.  Perfection is relatively unattainable to achieve.  I must be satisfied with my life in its current state.  I have a job, a stable income, a safe home, a loving family and I have made some of the truest and best friends I could have ever hoped for here.  My life is far much easier than in other parts of the world.  I graduated high school, I received my bachelor’s degree and I didn’t have to spend a penny.  Some might call me lucky, but why do I consider this a curse? 

I am blessed by life.  I have nothing to worry about on the surface, but my mind is a conflicted and complex ball of stress.  I create my own problems and my own insecurities and fears run rampant.  Even now, I am fortunate enough to have a computer to type this out on, a journal, or even the knowledge and ability to formulate thoughts and coherently express myself.  If I am so fortunate and living a life others envy, why am I so miserable.  Why do thoughts of pain and suicide flash through my head?  If I’m so blessed, why do I feel like a waste of a life? Someone else could be happy in the life of Laura Knapp, but why do I feel like this is a battle.  I lack the courage and strength to embrace my life as it is.  I am the creator of a destructive soul.  The words in my head are mine and mine alone.  The pain I feel is my own burden to bear and the tiny scars, imperfections and marks of my battle with life, are at my own hand.  If I am here to succeed, why am I finding reasons and excuses to fail?

I fear lately that my “quarter life crisis” is extending beyond a reasonable rough patch in life and evolving into a crippling, soul sucking silent illness.  I’m making myself sick here, aren’t I?  Hormonal and chemical imbalances aside, this monster in my head is of my creation.  Logically speaking, if I created this malady, than I can reasonably destroy it.  I fear I am far too proud to seek help; I’m terrified of judgment over this.  Only a handful of people have been exposed to the monster in my head.  I fear rejection in this battle.  I’m crying for help on the inside, but on the outside, it is hardly audible.  I mustn’t let my pride lead to my fall.  This is not a hubris sense of overbearing proudness, but more of embarrassment.  I look so put together, why can’t I be.  Looks are deceiving, tears can be dried and scars I can hide, but the battle in my head rages on.  

[rantsbylaura]

December 8, 2012

I am sand.  Weak. Manipulated easily.  Tiny broken fragments of something so strong beaten down for too long.

A relaxing Saturday morning before work consists of Pandora, cigs and sitting on the porch.  But, with each breath, I'm slowly killing myself.  I could go for a cup of coffee right now, or chocolate milk so I could be oh so cliché.  I am so typical of my generation.  Lonely in a sea of people.  Never satisfied.  A blessed, yet convinced we are dying breed.  I feel like I might have been suited better in another era.  I need more defined structure and a pre-determined role.  This independence and freedom is almost crippling.  I have too many options.  I can see no clear path to go on.  Where I end up is still unclear to me.  I don't know where to go, so I'lll stay here now.  I'm more content that I have been in the past.  i am established in my routine, albeit it is undesirable.  At the root of it lies simplicity.  I function best with clear cut linear interactions.  As a creature of habit, this satisfies me, but does not make me happy overall.  I am learning to control impulses and simplicity has me feeling less and less like a control freak. With less to worry about, I can breathe and relax.... in theory at least.  I cannot control the beat of my heart or the racing thoughts of my head.  I can merely hope and pray that I have steered the course in the right direction.  As the sun rises in the east, I will continue to do the same.  Cling to routine and make the best of it.  

I am trying to pick apart my anxieties and fears.  Break things down into simple facts and you will see the basis of my troubles.   I am a lost little girl, alone, but used to it, and desperately searching for answers of love, truth and fairness.  I have frequently described here, there and everywhere how I fall victim to heartbreak and defeat at my own hand.  I am the twisted puppet master of my destiny and downfall.  I struggle with positive thoughts and blame it on reality.  Reality isn't always as bleak as it seems.  Maybe I'm walking around with eyes half open.  I have heard before that beauty is everywhere; why can't I see it?

[rantsbylaura]

December 6, 2012 - Part II

[rantsbylaura]

December 6, 2012

I have until midnight to commit and buy this ticket.  Impulse hasn't taken over like it did last time.  I am being reserved and rational.  I want to go see him, but what am I going to do; sit in the trailer and wait for him to come home? Fuck in the truck.  Hell, the sex is good...but.

Dinner breaks fly by when you only have a half hour of solace and peace. Hiding in the comfort of the back office, comforted by my pandora radio station fighting the in-store radio.  I just want to hide in here for quite some time. 

5 minutes left, better try to sneak a quick smoke break.

[rantsbylaura]

December 4, 2012

Less than one month till takeoff again.  The fear of flying and the unknown is not as great as the reward who will be there, waiting for me with arms wide open at the end of the terminal. C told me to commit. To one or the other.  So, I reserved a plane ticket to Texas. For Forrest. I told C the other night, For-ward = For-rest.

[rantsbylaura]

December 2, 2012

Oh my ocean eyes.  You haunt me still.  Deep and drowning, I could stay here and be content.  I can float on the ocean.  Oceans ebb and flow, a constant discourse of motion.  Tides crash on the shore.  Salty, sweet oceans can be polluted though.  Throw some garbage in there and it's ruined forever.  Oceans have their own systems. Life exists in oceans.  Oceans can be predictable, yet in times turn destructive.  Hurricanes? Tsunamis? Oceans are territory for natural disasters. But, the ocean has always been my source of serenity, tranquility and peace.   Fall in love with the stranger, or fall back into the past (all hurt included).

Do people change? How much have I changed... Who the fuck am I?

Pick apart your head, sacrifice your heart.

I always tell C, "Life begins at the end of your comfort zone".  Comfort zone? Who am I more comfortable with.  I stepped 1,300+ miles out of my comfort zone for F.  Do I step back into my comfort zone with C? He would be stepping out of his if I chose him. Who. Where does my heart lie with.  The one who broke it from Fitzelle to graduation days? In South Texas with the teenager? I followed my heart to Texas.  I have no regrets. 

[rantsbylaura]

December 1, 2012