i hate it when i’m wrong

never put anything past anyone.

i used to hear that a lot growing up. i didn’t want to believe it to be true, considering the source of it, and i think i’ve bent and twisted myself  in so many different ways these past few years to try and prove that it’s a lie. i want to see the good, i want to hold on to hope, i want to believe things will turn out all right…but the fact is that i am naive.

the reality is this: i hate it when i’m wrong. i hate it when i’ve invested time and emotion and hope and tears into something only to have it all come to naught in the end. it’s a blow to my pride, and it’s totally selfish. i feel so foolish, i get so angry. i see who people are, what they could be, and feel so powerless as i watch them fall back into old habits and set themselves up for more pain. over and over again. and yet, i continue to hang on. i know i must be doing something wrong here, and i am becoming convinced that this little spark of hope is actually a weapon being used against me, pushing me into the line of fire and forcing me to see the harsh reality of the human condition: the selfishness, the obsessions, the lies. you can never put anything past them. and what’s more, seeing the potential isn’t the same as seeing the reality. when you blur the line between the two, it’s a very dangerous thing. and that’s my fault. every. damn. time. any hurt that follows is a result of my foolishness.

i’ve had a lot of time to myself over this past holiday. and that’s how i wanted it. a lot of time to think…which can be a dangerous thing. it was terrifying. this has been one hell of a year. as i look back on it, so much is a blur, so much still hurts. i want to believe that 2016 will be a clean slate, that it will be the answer to all my questions and the balm to all my hurts…but i know it doesn’t work that way. i appreciated the opportunity to step out of my comfort zone, to let my rough edges be exposed, to apply what i’ve learned to difficult situations and relationships. it’s made a lot of things more real to me. there has been some good…but they’re more like silver linings to these dark clouds i’m left with. i’m not sure what to do with all these shattered pieces, with all this anger and frustration and confusion. as if i didn’t know that people hurt, that life isn’t fair, that change is hard…i guess i had to be reminded of how weak and powerless i am in the face of it all.

i have no idea what’s next. but i admit it now: i was wrong.

sara

 

i swear, if someone tells me “He knows the desires of your heart” one more friggin’ time…

if you knew how difficult something worth having was going to be to obtain, would you still be willing to go after it?

right now, i feel like i’ve sacrificed so much time and emotion over people and ideals that never worked out; and as a result, i have become so afraid of being alone. i know people would say it’s ridiculous at my age to think like that, but there’s a good portion of my life i can never get back. it’s only within these last few years i feel like i’ve begun to live, and time just seems to go by faster. i feel like i’m losing my worth.

but back to my initial question…

i climbed a mountain recently that nearly made me want to fall on my butt on several occasions and weep uncontrollably when i saw what lay ahead. at times, i didn’t give a rip for the view that was at the top. as beautiful as i could imagine it to be wasn’t motivation enough to get up.

my personality typically demands directness. the sharp knife cuts the quickest, hurts the least. if there is hurt to be had or a difficult lesson to be learned or a heartbreak to be endured, just let me get it over with…but if i can’t demand it or just won’t for whatever reason, that’s when stuff get ugly. i plop down, curl up and torment myself with the anticipation. i question if anything is even worth having or pursuing and if i should just “be content” where i am. 

and time after time, just when i think  the inclines are over, then comes another.

for me, ideals are really hard to let go of. i feel empty without them. and afraid. and alone. my imagination is my best friend and my worst enemy. night was always the time for creativity…but now I dread it. my determination has taken one hell of a beating.

i’ve been here before so many times, it seems. i don’t like drifting any more than feeling like i’m stuck in a rut. i want to latch on to something, and feel like i’m worth being latched to. i’ve written down the same kind of thoughts in different entries over the span of five years…and it seems like i still have no better way of “dealing.” i just let the time go by and hope for the best.

so here i sit, looking up at that steep, rocky incline. eyes filling with tears. hearing the argument in the back of my mind to either “suck it up” or “give it up” and wondering what exactly is all this all for, anyway. what’s up there that’s so damn worth all this?

time will tell, i suppose…but i can never trust it to tell me anything because it’s always in such a flippin’ hurry.

sara