ew.

This blog has become nothing more than me bitching about my love life. Who really wants to read a bitter teenager's journal? No one, that's who.

So let's talk about something else.

I crashed a bicycle last week and now I have enormous Franken-scars forming on my forearm, knee and ankle. They're pretty amazing.

no no no.

Today I thought I was ok.

But every time I smile and tell someone I'm ok, everything floods over me and I can't breathe or speak or see any light. Just darkness every direction, and suffocating pressure on all sides.

And I realize I'm not ok.

Not even close.




All of the music I love seems to have been written to me. Songs I sang along with before, never realizing the weight of the words coming from my lips, suddenly stop my breath. My voice chokes when I sing, pierced by sorrow coming so quickly I can't brace myself against the onslaught. So I don't sing.

I honestly thought it was getting better. I thought I was overdramatizing the situation. I told myself that everyone has their first big heartbreak, almost no one ends up in the long run with their first love, there are so many important lessons to be learned from this, blah blah blah. I tell everyone. I repeat all these things like a mantra, warding off the sadness, but then I pause to think and the floodgates are destroyed. Facts, unfortunately, have failed me.

This is not the type of healing that happens in a matter of weeks. Not for me. I thought a month would be significant. A month has done almost nothing for me. What about three months? Six months? A year? Two? How long will it be before I feel whole again? Like someone I trusted hasn't reached inside me and set fire to everything I held dear?

I'm trying so hard to be rational and positive and understand that you're going to move on, but I'm angry. I'm so angry and hurt. If it takes me a year to get over you, it should take you that long to get over me. That's how it should work. But it doesn't, apparently.

I am just destined to be the one who loves more and gets nothing for it but never-ending pain.

rules.

Here are my new standards:

1. I am a feminist. If you believe men are inherently superior to women, I don't want you in my life.
2. I am staunchly anti-religious. If you are super religious, I'm not interested.
3. I am liberal and I get pissed off and rant about politics. If you don't like that, go away.

I'm just not dealing with it. I get to choose who I involve in my life, both with friendships and romantic relationships. I spent a lot of time compromising and smothering my strongly-held beliefs for the sake of a relationship, and I refuse to do it anymore, since apparently that doesn't work. It's an important lesson. Compromise in a relationship is important, but not as important as knowing who you are, fundamentally, as an individual and protecting that identity. And who I am is an outspoken liberal feminist with a vendetta against all organized religion. You don't like it? Don't bother me.