theewriterdiaries

[theewriterdiaries]

I Am Her - Journal Entry #3

Every time I try to write a letter to you, I can’t. Its physically impossible. Because the only accurate way to describe how I feel about that whole situation – the only way to do my feelings justice – would be to describe a fucking wall in a prison. The prison is made of stone, the bars made of steel. On the back wall of the prison cell, large claw marks are imbedded into the cement. The claw marks stretch from floor to ceiling. From a distance, the marks look like one big swipe. A beast who thrashed the wall out of anger. From a distance, it looks less like a prison, and more like a holding cell for some sort of creature, one you might find in a fantasy book. But looking closer, you might realize it isn’t a what, but a who, that created these marks. The marks are not from a creature’s claws, but rather a human’s nails. Nails that have been dug into the stone walls time and time again, creating a screeching sound, a sound from your nightmares. Inspecting this scene closer and closer, you might see that the steel bars have been thrown off of the cell, not by magic or a spiritual force, but by this human. And if you look even closer, maybe reading in the cracks and crevices of the claw marks, you will realize, she is me. I am her.

[theewriterdiaries]

This blog is for my thoughts, poured out in writing. A place I go when I need to get something off my chest. A place like home, which smells of gingerbread and freshly baked homemade cookies. A place to go to express when I am feeling nostalgic, sad, angry, happy. A place to be vulnerable and share my deepest fears. A place I can be fearless and brave.

Find my main at: @bejeweled-13

Read more on Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/bejewled_13

[theewriterdiaries]

Maybe. - Journal Entry #2

When I read your words, I cried. You thought it was out of sadness, but it was anger. Anger wasn’t a new emotion for me, but a common phrase I’d made my motto was, “disappointed but not surprised.” Cliché, I know. But sometimes cliché and mundane things are the most real.

I wanted closure, and to be honest, I still don’t have it. It’s a myth that you ever get true closure. I never tried to get closure from you because it was clear to me that I wouldn’t receive any even if I tried. The truth is you weren’t a bad person. But you did a really terrible thing that I couldn’t forgive. And then you made me seem like the bad guy.

If I set boundaries, I became uptight, bitchy, and a bad friend because I wasn’t willing to tolerate everything I’d sat there and tolerated in the past. If I told you the truth, I became a liar, because apparently my jealousy was making me say rash things.

I told you I was sorry, but I lied. I am not usually the one to become all egotistical and say that I did absolutely nothing wrong. But this time, I truly felt like I didn’t. Even now, looking back, I can’t think of a single thing I would’ve changed. I don’t regret leaving, and I think you truly thought I would come back to you eventually. I think you truly believed that time would heal everything and that I would just come running back to you and tell you I was sorry. You only thought this because I’d done it all those times before.

But even now, years later, I don’t forgive you. I don’t know if I ever will be able to. You hurt me, betrayed me, lied to me, took advantage of me, and then expected me to forgive you in the blink of an eye all because I’d been so forgiving in the past.

I loved you. I loved you so much. And while I know that my words have a harsh, bitter sting to them, it’s only because I loved you so much that I say these words so harshly. You were there for me in my darkest times. You saw the darkest side of me, a side I wouldn’t show to anyone else. Can I ever be that vulnerable with anyone ever again, I ask myself sometimes. Because the fear that maybe they’ll betray me the way you betrayed me haunts me.

You told me you’d changed, but you knew how many times I’d heard those same words from him. Him. The one you had warned me to leave. You knew his words were falsities. I never took your advice.

The confusion you had when I chose to leave you so soon, yet stayed with him for so long pains me. I know you were confused and hurt, and I didn’t mean for it to seem like I was doing it to spite you. Truly, I left because I could not handle being with someone who’d betray me so quickly. I’d learned my lesson, I’d grown, I realized where to draw the line. And while I know that, to you, it seemed unfair because I gave him hundreds of chances and hardly even given you a second chance, it’s because I had finally realized my worth.

You meant so much to me which is why it hurt so badly.

I don’t mean to make you feel like shit. I understand that these words probably feel like salt in the wound. You finally apologized, and the apology was beautiful. I wanted to believe it, but the words on that paper could’ve been just as much of a lie as the ones you had told me for eight months. How could I ever trust you again?

And maybe that was my fault for not trusting you again. For letting my fears and trust issues get in the way of our friendship. But maybe my emotions were valid. Valid because you lied to me and hurt me, and sometimes “sorry” doesn’t undo the damage.

I know it was only one fight and I know we had been friends for so long. How could I let the friendship go after one fight? But I hope that someday you can find the strength to know your worth the way I was able to find mine.

I don’t hate you. I never did. Even in the midst of everything. Even now, when I realize I may never be able to forgive you.

You were so good to me, and I am not going to let the hurt and pain blur or dull all of the good memories I know I can hold onto for a lifetime.

Maybe someday we’ll see each other in a grocery store and share a laugh or two. We’ll have kids and a spouse and a good career. We’ll be living the life we always wanted. And maybe this hurt will fade away and all that will be remembered are the good times.

Maybe.

[theewriterdiaries]

What You Didn't See - Journal Entry #1

You didn’t see it when I was alone in my room, the curtains drawn so no one could see. My hands shaking, my eyes leaking, the tears dropping onto the blades of the scissors. The blood and the tears pooled together, creating a shade of melancholy pink. Instead, what you saw were the scars on my arms. Broken and bruised. A girl who was beyond help. What you saw were the bags under my eyes, from a lack of sleep and from the sobbing from the night before. What you saw were the own judgements you created in your own mind. The story of a girl I never was. The story of a girl I never would be.

You didn’t see it when I rehearsed the lines I would say to you. The words whispered a thousand times over. I knew I wouldn’t get it right, but I memorized the lines anyway. What you didn’t see was a girl who put you on a pedestal, a girl who dreamed of you seeing her for who she truly was. Instead, you saw a girl who was obsessed with you. Crazy, disgusting. You saw a girl who was calculated but disorganized. You saw all her insecurities and flaws.

You didn’t see it when I made excuses for you, hoping that maybe it was just a mistake or a miscommunication. You didn’t see it when I cried to my only friend and told him about what I had dreamed about what could’ve been, but never would be. Instead, what you saw was a girl who was in denial. A girl who was stubborn and annoying and chose not to give up. You saw it as harassment, despite the space I’d given you, hoping you might choose me over your preconceived assumptions as to who I was.

You didn’t see it when I was mad. A flicker of rage from past relationships bubbled at the surface but I pushed it away. You didn’t see when I lost hope of you ever giving me a chance. The tears of sadness I’d once shed were now tears of anger. What you saw was a madwoman, a girl who was undeniably demented. A girl who was quick to anger and saw the world in black and white.

You didn’t see the woman that I was, you saw the girl you pretended I was. Every time I tried to prove you wrong, you twisted my actions, and stereotyped me, fitting me into the box inside your mind. You never saw me, you saw her. You saw the girl you had created so perfectly, and then you spread the rumors like wildfire.

But maybe I’m a hypocrite. Because I saw you as him. The version I’d created inside my mind as well. Kind, understanding, communicative. I longed for him to see me. But that ignorant side of myself has been burnt away because now I realize you are you, not him. You are silent, but the silence speaks a thousand words. You are cruel, never giving me a chance and making up versions of me that will never be true. And you are insensitive, the empathy I’d pretended that might live deep inside you is nowhere to be found.