"When they don’t love you the way you want to, you mourn that for however long you need to. But then you get back up and you remind yourself. You are not a reflection of the people who can’t love you. You will love again. You will be loved again." - Caitlyn Siehl
Nothing really happened. Nothing changed to make me feel this way. Nothing caused it that I can put my finger on. I’m just having one of those nights when I’m suddenly and surprisingly gripped with anxiety and am questioning pretty much every decision I’ve made in the past few years. What if I did it wrong? Should I have stayed? What if I messed it all up?
Is this what growing up feels like?
I can’t help but love those cheesy love poems that I see all over here. Like the one I just reblogged? I feel that in my heart. I don’t care how dramatic. I love it and I want it. Along with what’s found in wedding pictures of couples holding hands and a piece of grungy art and a plane ticket and a solitary girl backpacking in the mountains and a neon sign and a singer giving her all on stage and a dolphin leaping out of the ocean and tattooed skin and a snapshot of a desk with a typewriter and coffee and a stack of books and a mom with her kids and a landscape that looks like nowhere I’ve ever lived. I have so many different parts of me and so many different things that I want and so many different people that I identify with and it makes me wonder who I really am.
Why can’t I be it all?
I just don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know where I am. I’m scared I don’t know who I am. Or maybe I know exactly and that’s what makes me feel this way. I’m unsettled.
It’s like I just pour and pour and pour myself out
for everyone else
and I’m left empty.