being human is getting too complicated.

I’ll never understand people.

We break, fight, gossip, and hurt each other.

We throw our sticks, stones, and words.

We fall in love, we have best friends, we make promises.

We fall out of love, we lose our best friends, we break our promises.

And, it’s by choice.

I sometimes can’t sleep because I’m haunted by the way I’ve acted in the past…

I could’ve forgiven him sooner,

not listened to him,

been a better granddaughter,

not have harbored bitterness towards her,

pushed them away…

I can’t handle it. Do you hear me? I pass all these people, and I miss them.

I think about these people, and I think if only they had lived longer…if only if I had understood…

And, there’s things I think I will never understand, or forgive. Trauma after trauma,  they make me sick. But–those people will never apologize, and you have to live with that as well.

I don’t want to process it anymore. I don’t want to talk. I just want to shut myself in a dark room and die there.

I can’t hurt anyone there.

No one can hurt me there.

Except myself.

Being human is getting too complicated. 

 

 

 

Dear Boy II

Dear Boy,

Stop looking at me like it’s my fault, and making those boys look at me like a slut.

Stop saying ‘hi’ in hallways like a pitiful fool, and intimidating me by breathing down my neck.

I’m so sick, I almost fainted five times today. My head hurts, my heart hurts, and I’m so tired.

I cry myself to sleep, if I sleep at all. Replaying–and replaying the words like a cd.

I need to run away from this place.

In the shower, I scratched myself until I bled, because the pain is unbearable inside.

If I could flee your eyes, and the terrible lies you’re telling everyone about me; maybe I could start to focus on my own problems.

Play the victim card like the coward you are.

See, if I care.

I will rise above this.

I will survive this.

I am a warrior, but I think you know that.

But you never expected to wage my war on you….

–Liv

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m Climbing.

3 AM.

I lie in my bed, replaying and replaying my life in my mind. The hurt, the pain, the bullies, the lies, the boys. I can’t help it of late, I don’t even have the strength to fight it at all today. I usually throw in a couple good memories in the endless slideshow, but I am so weak and in no control of my body.

Not being able to stand it, I get out of that bed, and drink water to settle my nerves. I go out in the living room. I grab a blanket and watch the street sleep.

I turn on the T.V. and flip through all the channels, to find I end up on Lassie. Little Timmy is petting that smart dog, who always saved him. The nostalgia of the whole moment is too much.

I am a little girl again. Watching Lassie wrapped in a blanket. Up at night because the nightmares won’t leave me alone. She was so scared of the future, and so am I.

I am so scared of everything. I can’t pretend. I can only flash so many smiles, hold back so many tears, speak so many words.

I thought I could hold myself together. But–people saw me break yesterday, around 50 people. It was a series of events, and the last sent me spiraling. It wasn’t necessarily what was said or done in that moment. I just curled into a ball and my reality killed me internally. I think I said something, and I hope no one heard it; though I say it more and more these days. All I could do was shake as I blamed myself. I always do that.

I learned long ago you can’t blame anyone but yourself for the way you feel. I’m hurt because I let myself get vulnerable. I have anxiety because I believed lies. No one else did that, but me.

It’s like climbing out of a hole, that just grows deeper and wider every day. But, you have to keep climbing, you can’t stop, or you’ll just fall deeper. I’m climbing, watch me break myself from keeping on so.

By the grace of God, I am here. By the grace of God, I will make it. That’s what I say to myself every second, as I climb.

Excerpts 3

I let my head bounce on the window pane as the car moves along. The city’s lights shine like fallen stars. The world was a mix of blacks and blues.

I could never have you; is the only thing I can think.

I inflict myself with such pain, letting my heart break like this.

We hit a bump in the road, and my head slams hard against the window, making a loud thud, leaving a mark this time. I close my eyes, and imagine the pain disappears; both head and heart.

But…I can’t imagine you’re not gone. I know you’re not. You’re somewhere in this black and blue city not thinking about me.

That hurts the most.

An excerpt from some page I found in my room. Who knows when I wrote it…