The Thoughts

Tag: confession

  • Dear Life: Sometimes I forget to Live You

    Currently, my main goal is to survive the coming two months. I know it is possible because I am in a much better place than I was in the past few years. Mentally, I’m probably the strongest I’ve ever been (except maybe when I was aged 12-18; I was afraid of nothing and everything was afraid of me). Okay, so maybe not the strongest I’ve ever been, but I’m good. I have identified my patterns and know that I really need to take care of myself during exam seasons. I get so existential!

    If you’ve read even one of my blog posts, you know I’m going through it. I do have to say, to interrupt myself, I am doing much better when it comes to Beer Boy! I still think about him daily, check if his ‘do not disturb’ mode is on, see when he was last active on WhatsApp. I still fantasize about him texting me or showing up at my home confessing his love. But I’m doing much better!

    So, I’m going through it, my family is going through it, my friends are also going through it. We’re all going through it, essentially. But how do we manage ourselves and our lives in a positive way when everywhere we turn people are depressed, hopeless, negative, or just going through a horrific period in life?

    I try to be there for everyone in any way that I can. But the last few weeks I found myself getting too sucked into the sadness to the point where I just can’t seem to escape it. Of course, you have to be there for family and friends. Nothing is more important. But I felt myself going back to a scary place, and that’s when the alarm bells rang. So, to repeat the question: How do we manage ourselves and our lives while going through a very complicated, sad time in life?

    I feel incredibly selfish saying this, but I realized I cannot be in hospitals all day, I cannot listen to people cry all day, and I cannot be there for everyone all the time. I go right back into survival mode when I try to do this. I try being the positive in people’s lives, I try bringing a sense of ‘normal’ in abnormal situations. I try listening a lot, I care for people, and I go right into mommy mode. Now, I just try and do it in pieces.

    Lately, I have also been repeating to myself to not take myself so seriously. Just breathe and feel. When I miss Beer Boy, I should just miss him and sit with that feeling. When I am rethinking my entire life because I miss my old friends, I should just go through it. Feel the hurt, the disappointment, the shame, the embarrassment, the absolute tragedy of losing your best friends. I should just damn feel it, let it in.

    I will never feel like I am living my life when I keep shutting out what life is about: feeling, experiencing. Being human is about having emotions, feeling raw; we should all feel our emotions more raw, damnit. Being alive is about the adventure, the adventure of pain, of disappointment, the adventure of love and passion and earth-shattering heartbreak. Life is about feeling your soul being physically ripped in two one day, and seeing the most beautiful sunset ever the next. Life is grieving the most loving, special, most unique human being ever and wondering how you are ever going to live again without them. And then being on the most breathtaking beach ever, feeling one with the ocean, thinking about how grateful you are to celebrate that person’s life, how grateful you are to miss them, and how grateful you are knowing their spirit won’t ever leave you. Life is about crying on the floor, hurting in your lungs, wondering how you are ever getting over this situationship breakup, and then getting up and writing your first blog post. Life is about making a fool out of yourself, then trying to achieve something cool to make up for it. Life is about playing music way too loud in your headphones. Life is messy, life is chaos, life is happiness, life is tragic, life is everything it is not supposed to be and life is more beautiful than we remember.

    Life is remembering what life is about, having it all click at a random moment. Then going back to living as you know it, and forgetting what life is all about.

    It’s our choice though, and I hope I will keep choosing to feel alive.

    My Christmas present to you: make a playlist of the songs that make you feel most vulnerable, songs you usually skip because they make you feel too much. Then go and watch a sunset with that playlist playing. We could all use some remembering what life is about in December. You know, since it’s that damn season.

    Happy living, skinny legend

  • The Silence of the Decembers; What About It?

    This is so me; I am currently sitting in my grandparents’ dining room, a classy, elegant but dimly lit room, with a beautiful bouquet of flowers before me in a crystal vase. My books are spread across the table, my tea and honey next to me, AirPods in my ears. Sitting back in a fancy chair, thinking about the past. Isn’t it weird how thinking about the past is so hurtful, physically painful! But still so comforting. Why? What is that about?

    I am sitting here, very movie-like, knowing that your silence is the biggest, most extravagant response I ever got out of you. I keep checking if your ‘do not disturb’ mode is on, I have absolutely no idea why. I do have an idea: I am fighting for breadcrumbs. Seeing you turn your notifications off makes me feel like I saw that part of your day, as if that was some sort of contact I had with you.

    But it isn’t just about you anymore. Sitting here, it is also about the friends I lost. My very best friends. Or the most awkward, weird, disturbing moments in my life. Overthinking, rethinking, wishing, regretting, I guess that’s what this moment is about. I feel you are now officially in my past, and it makes me very anxious. It’s like I associate you with something, I don’t know what, and now I get anxious about that part of my life leaving.

    I really miss my friends. The past few months have gone so fast and although I knew I missed them, now, when everything is quiet and still, it hits me again. The loss of their friendship hits me again, all over. I get so insecure thinking about it. I miss how I could be myself around them, I miss the confessions, I miss crying with laughter, I miss making plans and setting goals with my best friends. Being delusional together and manifesting everything we could ever desire. You guys know how I feel about Beer Boy, but I would give him up in a split second for a chance to turn back time and make it so that we never grew apart, ever.

    December is such a weird month. Everything is so cozy and festive. Champagne and oysters, Christmas markets, spending time with family, and Christmas lights and decorations everywhere! Yet, it is the most lonely and deepest time of the year. Could it be because there is so much quiet that you actually have to feel your feelings this time of year?

    I pray, I wish and I desperately hope that this time December and January go differently. I hope I wake up tomorrow and forget all about my old friends, Beer Boy, and the awkward and weird things I did throughout my life. Well, I don’t wish to forget it, I wish to wake up and have peace with it all. I hope I wake up and see life through the same light I was seeing it three weeks ago. I hope I wake up happy, I hope I wake up and all the melancholy feelings just leave my soul. Melancholy, what a bittersweet feeling. In my opinion, one of the most beautiful feelings known to man. Still, I wish to never feel it again; it goes too deep into the soul.

    I should be studying, or going to bed. It’s past 1 am. I could cry. My life is so not what I expected it to be at my age. I have more peace with that now than a few months ago, but still. I have no idea what I am doing, honestly. I feel like I am going through life rather than living it, do you understand? It’s not even that I want to cry about, it’s just the moment. I want to cry about how I keep getting flashbacks from past Decembers, about how I managed to lose my best friends and about how we still haven’t found our way back to each other. I want to cry about how I spent so much time and energy on Beer Boy, how much I hate him and how much I want him to text me and then keep texting me. I want to cry about how much I love the song that’s playing.

    I really try to not let myself touch the delicate feeling of depression or just melancholy. It’s too easy to fall back into the spiral. But let me for a moment speak my mind, free of fear. I am scared of hearing myself think. I am scared of missing my friends like I missed them this summer. I am so scared of feeling left out. I hate that for me, feeling left out is the worst feeling. I am scared that this December will probably look a lot like the others before. I am scared of missing, missing out, missing people, losing myself and then missing my old self. I am scared of being alone with just me because what if I haven’t gotten over this summer? What if I am not as over it as I thought? What if I go to that place again? I have been ignoring myself, going through life as best as I know how but I am terrified of finding out just how happy I am in life right now. I just don’t know how I am ever getting out of this feeling.

    That’s enough overthinking for today. Jeez! It must be that damn season…

    Xo SL

  • Dear Santa, Can We Talk? I Want Him for Christmas

    If you read my last two posts, you can probably imagine what my ideal wishlist would look like this year. Let’s see, what would my letter to Santa say?

    “Dear Santa,

    First of all, I think you missed an elf because I saw Beer Boy just yesterday. Santa, may I please ask of you that for this Christmas, you put some sense into my boy? Just this morning I looked in the mirror and was astonished that I’m the one doing the chasing, running, and obsessive acts in this relationship. No, but really, Santa, this Christmas can you give us a chance? I know this is probably not the gift you had in mind, but I fear that I want nothing else more. I want nothing more than to wake up in a life where he is part of my everyday, where he wants me just as badly as I want him, where our time doesn’t stop when the sun comes up. Please, give me him. Give me all of him and make him really see me. If he would really know me, if he could really see me for who I am, he would be mine. Who wouldn’t be obsessed with me if I showed them my soul? Don’t make me one of the girls who are just blind to what’s in front of her; don’t make a fool of what I believe is my intuition.

    Santa, I fear I cannot enjoy Christmas knowing I’m the only one thinking about us. I fear I might go insane. If you cannot commit to these wishes, a lobotomy will suffice. Lol (That was a joke, please don’t touch my brain; I have exams). Santa, if you can’t give me him and us, then please remove him from my heart. Please remove his prints from my soul, it physically hurts. My body aches. I feel it in my chest all the time. If you can’t give me him and us, please make the pain go away. Make him go away. I want all of it or nothing. I can’t do this in-between, something-but-nothing type of relationship anymore. Make him want me or make me forget him. I beg of you. You know I have been very, very good (and you kind of owe me because I never got my Barbie Dream House you promised). Santa, I love Christmas and I love you but man, I need you to step up this year. Anyways, milk and cookies are in the fridge; you know the drill. See you next year.

    P.S.: If you disappoint me on the 24th, I will be personally coming down to the North Pole for an explanation. Love ya xo”

    Yes, dear three readers, my ‘breakup’ with Beer Boy has been hard on me. I have to build my world back up, and he has absolutely no clue or thought about the matter. However, I’ll be fine, right? Because I’ve gone through this like four times with him—the longest period of no contact being six months—and I feel like, no matter how much time has passed, he still manages to mess me up. Or maybe I just keep letting him mess me up.

    Oh dear, I really need Santa to be real this year.

    Your favorite skinny legend, xo

  • My last midnight confession to you

    Yesterday my therapist was telling me how proud she was. Yesterday we were celebrating me finally coming to my senses about, you guessed it, a guy. It felt like I finally turned the page and detached. Also yesterday I showed up, to said guy, in the middle of the night by his bed. Why do I do this? You tell me.

    So there I was, in the most stereotypical boys dorm room, waking him up. Obviously he was excited to see me, who wouldn’t be? But that’s the thing isn’t it, he is always excited to see me at night. When the sun comes back up and he returns to sober town, I fear he doesn’t like me as much. “This is the last time we will see each other,” I kept repeating. “I don’t want that, you don’t mean it,” he kept repeating. I know he doesn’t believe me, I have said this before. Yet I still end up in his arms when his schedule allows it.

    The circle of self-sabotage is what I call our relationship. Yes, I said relationship because I refuse to refer to this monumental, life-changing, soul-eating experience as a ‘situationship’. I did not go through the deepest points of life to then diminish my experience by not calling it what it is, a relationship. Not a romantic relationship, not a platonic relationship (obviously), not a situationship because it has never been just a ‘situation’. It has quite literally taken over my life, is my most talked about topic, my entire family knows about it, every person that has ever talked to me knows about it. This was never a ‘situationship’, this has always been a relationship.

    To continue my story time, he was excited to see me. So there we were, lying in his friend’s bed. I’m asking him what was missing, why he couldn’t see me as more than a midnight hookup for when he’s in town. Honestly, I cannot remember what his answer to this was but I think it’s safe to say it was nothing worth remembering. “This is it for us, we will never be anything more than nothing,” is obviously me trying to make him say what I want to hear. “Our story hasn’t begun yet, nothing is ending and everything is beginning,” yes he said this, (he actually really said this)! Why would I lie to a bunch of strangers? Lol. How I wish he meant what he said and how I wish I was still naive enough to believe it. Unfortunately, those words mean very little to me. Just between us girls, I’d rather have his words hurt me and make me sad, then what they do to me now; nothing. (I’m so Lana coded, right?!)

    He doesn’t know it yet, but this really is the end of our story. The last couple of years, I kept giving chances, I kept having hope because I made myself believe he didn’t know what I felt. I made myself believe he did not know enough to take action. Now, the words have been spoken, my feelings have been made clear. I was honest, I told him exactly what I wanted, what I wished for us. And I woke up in the exact same reality; magical nights that I over-romanticize and disappointing, face-slapping, soul-hurting mornings/days. Nothing changed. I showed all my cards, he knows how I feel and what I hope for.

    I have no more jokes, stories or little lies I want to tell him with the hope they make him fall in love with me. I have no more positions to try with the hope he cannot get enough of me. I have no more names to drop with the hope he will think I’m well connected and popular. There is nothing left for me to try. I have no more games to play.

    Two years, I spent believing there was a chance for us. I told everyone that the hope I felt came from my gut. That my intuition was just sure there would be a two sided love story. We may have not felt the same, but you felt something. I just know it. I refuse to believe I am that naive and I choose to believe in my intuition. We had a storyline, but I guess another one was more important and ours got benched. I still have a lot to say. I could keep talking to you about us. Oh how I hope you will miss me. I hope you miss me so bad you cry and your friends think you’re crazy. I hope you miss me so bad you cannot even look at another woman. I hope you dream about me, I hope I haunt your mind. I hope you keep my scarf and sleep with it (this is not a Taylor Swift All too well reference, I left my actual scarf there). I hope you become attached to it. I hope it represents something very emotional for you. I curse that you feel for me what I felt for you. Though I really mean what I write, I do want to tell you one last time, I’m sorry and I so wish I could start over for us.

    Wow got carried away for a moment, almost forgot im way too cool for him.

    So why did I do this? Still, no idea. You tell me.

    Skinny legend out