for those people who shut themselves out;
its a stupid reckless attempt to save everyone who deals with their unworthy crap.
its an effort to not hurt those who love them.
its their way to make sure those who love them don’t get what they deserve.
you see, for people who shut themselves out, they’re are convinced they’re too damaged and therefore no one should be stuck with them.
& (i’m) completely okay with that notion.
i’m completely okay w/ not having stuck with me, hurt by me, deal with me. because no one deserves to a stupid reckless person like me.
(saying this in a matter of fact way)
Hole in the ground, meet alexis.
Alexis, meet hole in the ground.
Sometimes I wished things were as simple as declaring, “I don’t want to be friends with you or have any connections with you anymore.”. But in reality, it really isn’t. Human beings aren’t made for simple shortcuts. Thats a huge sigh for that. Just for this one thing.
It’s been too long. Too long since I’ve really written. Too long since I’ve conversed w/ myself in an organized neuroticism. Too long since I’ve really allowed myself to listen to myself. Too long since I heard me.
I don’t know about other people, but my mind is the nosiest place there is and yet at the same time it is the most peaceful. Ironic isn’t it? or senseless even.
Well to be honest, I am senseless. I can never explain how I’m really feeling until after a period of time, and by some needed miracle for the sanity of the people around me, it vomits out. I am a huge word/soliloquy vomiter. I should name myself that. Soliloquy vomiter. Naise.
So why am I here? I realised, in me being so caught up being lost, that I need to treat myself better. I need to stop being so hard on my self damn it. Yknow? I need to believe that it is okay to be lost. That I don’t have to have it together all the time. That I am not some burden in everybody’s lives. To a certain extent, I do believe. I don’t know if I’m right to say this, or if I even have any right to (but I understand I don’t), that most girls (or people actually) long to have someone stay by their side, to be taken care of, to be reassured occasionally that they have someone as they trudge it out of the mud pit. Not me. And I know Feyd can testify to this. I think this is one of the major sources of our little debates. I run away from it. I run away from “Hey, I am right here. Always.”.
This is gonna kill me, but yes, “I don’t want to Isaac” anyone.
The Isaacism that I have so deeply and genetically programmed in me (got it from my mother. whuuuut.) is making my lostness worse. I am so caught up in making sure no one gets sucked in with me in the black hole of my life; I, ironically am making one.
Why. Why. Why can’t I just be less complicated? (Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.)
But as I sit here, looking through the myriad of memories of the past half a year, I am actually asking the wrong question.
I guess this is more or a re-realisation than an actual new one. It is an opportunity for me to love myself more. Come to terms with my complications. Accept my neuroticism. And love it. And balance it.
I don’t think the people sticking with me, particularly Feyd, are in my life to scare me. I don’t think life works that way. The world is never cruel. The bends that we can’t ride out of are the cruel ones.
So Alexis Burgos. Stop. Stop allowing yourself to just be in that bend. Stop focusing on the dirt that’s surrounding you in that bend. Instead, use a car, use your legs, use anything around you so you can move inch by inch out of that bend. Neuroticism isn’t bad. Neuroticism is what has gotten me here to this re-realisation. Lost is also isn’t bad. It’s when you stay lost.
So there you go, welcome to my neurotic head that eventually makes sense.
The beauty of being lost is to be found again. And I am.