supposed former infatuation junkie.

72 days ago I was happy.

That’s what I was told. Because I doubt. Incessantly. Not in other people’s ability to keep their word, but my ability to keep them happy and satisfied. I doubt that sooner or later they’ll figure out that not everything is happy and shiny over here and will leave. But honestly, the “happy and shiny” kinda only gets sad and rusted because of my doubting. I doubt, and then I ask people to reassure me. And I do this so much that I make them worry and create the doubt in their minds too. 

I am broken. But the cracks are very faint. It takes a special eye to see them because I’ve painted myself so well. I’m a master of illusion and my masterpiece is me. But I have more.  Yes, I’m a bit raw but the beauty is still there. Just without the added glaze. 

I am trying to have faith. And I am trying to remember who I am. I am more than just cracks. I am more than jagged edges that cut. I was more than someone who burned you out. I was me and somewhere in these past nine months I lost it. Because I was paying so much attention to the cracks being revealed? I don’t know. That’s not the excuse I’m giving. But I am staring past the cracks and looking at the rest of myself. Trying to remember. 

That’s what I am trying to do. I’ve been trying to do this for the past two days. But I keep on thinking about it and it makes it harder. It almost seems like the pressure in my body’s gone wonky, the cavity in my chest in constricting. 

It’s May 1st today. It’s been a year since a whole bunch of firsts started. I was reminded of one of those firsts when I opened my tumblr this morning because I had a picture from Valentine’s day on it. There were those first dreams of the future. Something I’ve always been terrified of doing. Of sharing. I don’t really picture people in my “dreams of the future”. Because people come and go, and I shouldn’t set up high expectations, or any expectations for that matter. No people. And that’s what my mistake was. I went against my “rules”. I let a person enter my dreams, I let that person open me up to things I was scared of, I let that person see parts of me that no one had ever before. 

And now that person is gone. My dreams are shattered. And the present seems too hard to bear. So much so that there isn’t a single moment other than the times I’ve been sleeping (and right now) that I’ve spent alone. I either have to make myself completely numb, or all the feelings and all the thoughts just race through my mind and take control. 

Just breathe, I’m told. But every breath hurts, and instead of keeping me alive it feels like it’s killing me. Like I’m breathing in death.