Reading. I used to read a lot. Novels. Fan fiction.
Music. I listened to it all the time. Headphones nonstop, whether it was christian screamo or, more recently, pentatonix and their acapella-y goodness.
Then it was drawing. I couldn't go anywhere without my sketchbook and a pen or two.
Now I don't do any of that stuff. All I do is work. Or lie around inside my dark apartment and feel lost. Or overthink and make myself sad.
Life is different, now. I was watching Jane the Virgin and (SPOILER ALERT!) after Michael dies, her abuela told her that her life would be beautiful again, just in different ways.
It feels like I'm still adjusting to life without my mother, even almost two years later. Small things, things that should be insignificant, like seeing a Norwegian word on my car's radio screen, make me fight to hold back the tears that want to brim over. I'll be fine one minute, and then heartbroken the next.
When I'm around my dad, it feels weird sometimes. Because it's just us. There has always been three. Now all I can see is us two.
He works a lot. So do I. Our schedules rarely coincide for us to spend time together. I can be together with him, laughing, but then an undercurrent of sadness will sweep in and all I want to do is sag and sink down, put my head down, stop smiling.
I run out of energy quickly. I don't do well being alone for long periods of time anymore. I used to pride myself on my independence, my aloofness, my "I don't need anyone, I'm fine on my own" motto.
I've become so fragile now.
I hate that.
On the one hand, it's taught me that people need other people. I've learned compassion, I think. But the cost is too great. The cost is heartache and loneliness and a fear of abandonment.
I have no desire to do anything. I don't feel like drawing. I don't feel like writing. I don't feel like watching the videos I used to like to watch on youtube. Nothing excites me or holds my interest for long.
I'm really only content when I'm either hanging out with Cal or facetiming with Khrys.
Reading this over, it sounds a lot like depression. Is that what I'm experiencing? I want to get better and feel fulfilled and do amazing things.
I went on a trip to Barcelona with Nia a few weeks ago. We spent 8 days in Europe...went to London, Barcelona and Madrid.
It should have been the experience of a lifetime. It should have been amazing, and great, and eye-opening, and I should have had a blast. Instead, I cried myself to sleep several nights, feeling utterly alone. I faked smiles most of the time I was there. There was a deadness inside...just underneath the nervous undercurrent that trembled in my chest most of the time.
When people ask how the trip was, I tell them it was quite an experience. Because it was. Negative or positive, I won't elaborate on for them, but it was an experience either way.
It was too soon. I was just beginning to settle into a routine here; I had started working for Lyft and was making decent enough money to not have to stress. Instead, I ended up having to work extra hard, every single day, to earn extra money as spending money for the trip, and I now am $1600 in debt to my father and Khrys, who loaned me money for the trip. Not to mention the fact that it was booked on Expedia through credit and Nia and I are still paying that off.
You know what this has taught me? That I should not say yes to anything I don't feel a hundred percent ready for.
This is random, but I wish I lived with Cal.
Bye.
