New Definition of Romantic

I have learned not to expect to be surprised with flowers.
I have learned not to expect to be surprised with a sweet date.
I have learned not to expect to be surprised with anything romantic.
Well at least nothing "normally" romantic.
He is romantic with me every day.
The first thing he does when he comes home is kisses me.
Even when he is absolutely drained from a long day.
Every night he turns over to kiss me and say goodnight.
At dinner he will get himself a glass of water and me a glass of juice.
He knows I prefer juice.
There is an item I cannot sleep without.
He always makes sure it is on my pillow so it does not get lost.
My writing is not something new to him at this point.
But he is willing to listen and lift my spirits about every piece.
I have plenty of insecurities just as many people do.
He is there to tenderly take me out of my weak moments, and remind me what I am worth.
After a silly argument, that we soon will forget the meaning behind.
He curls up next me just to hold me, because there is no reason to stay away.
I have spent a very small portion of my life with this man.
I also know that this man deserves a heart as warm as my own.
Just as I know I deserve his guarded heart.
This man is not romantic in the "normal" sense.
But this man is the most romantic man I can dream of.

22 Hours Later

For once I felt like someone wanted to slightly learn something about me.
Too often I find that people are too interested in themselves.
I want someone to be interested in the worst details.
The details that are hard to listen to.
The details that no one wants to see.
It is not easy to ask about someones past because you do not know what they want to talk about.
I am done being scared to tell people my past.
I just need someone to ask.
I do not want to go to a therapist and have them ask, I want a friend to show how much they care.
Ask me what is the worst thing that has happened me.
I will tell you, and watch your face switch from anger, to sadness to worried.
Ask me about my childhood.
Dig up the worst memories from my childhood.
I will tell you while I laugh at the terrible things that I went through.
I can laugh now.
My past is a part of who I am, but it is not who I am.
Dig up my life.
I will explain how badly I was abandoned.
I will explain how it felt to become a parent in the 6th grade, while not having any kids of my own.
Someone please care enough to learn all of me details.
My story is long and descriptive and I want to tell it.

Another Loss

I have come accustomed to being alone.
That does not mean I like it.
That also does not mean I enjoy it.
I am have lost too many friends.
Not one of them was a death.
But instead they all chose to walk out of my life.
Any person I have chosen to get close to.
They choose to walk away.
Usually a man who has gained feelings for me, and cannot stand to just be my friend.
I have also lost the friendship of women.
Women who preferred to live their lives without me in it.
Who found no particular importance in me.
Saying all this does not make it any easier.
It does not make me feel any better.
I am constantly hurt by those who choose to leave my life.
It is hard to let go sometimes, too.
But when they choose to leave, I am left with no choice.
Just another page in my life that I wish could be unwritten.

Revival

I have been getting too lost in my own mind.
I have had a lot of small things go wrong.
Though they are small, when they come together they seem bigger.
I feel like I have no friends.
I am worried about the amount of loans I have to take out for school.
I am too worried about my relationship, rather than enjoying it.
My body seems to be having more and more problems.
I used to feel so held together.
Lately I have just been feeling like I am falling apart more and more

In Memory

My memory is weak.
Except when it comes to remembering everything that happened.
It is all there.
I remember the pipes.
I remember the meth baggies.
I remember the strange people in and out of the house.
I remember feeling extra shy around the strange men that felt too close.
I remember the physical pain my dad caused my mom.
I remember being scared and living in a motel.
I remember not even knowing if we would have a place to live.
I remember Disneyland, and leaving because she was smoking her pipe.
I remember seeing them both cry.
I remember watching my dad drive away on my birthday.
I remember she was mad when we spent her meth money on dinner.
I remember constantly waking up to loud noises.
Because she snuck him in again.
I remember not seeing my mom because she was in jail.
Or in the hospital.
I remember moving school so many times and not having friends.
Because I did not have time to make them.
The one place I thought I would be safe.
I was molested.
I remember not having anyone to talk to.
I remember crying for days or for weeks.
I remember being scared it would happen again when we went over to visit.
But still too scared to speak up.
I remember feeling raped.
I remember not telling anyone, again.
I remember that same fear.
I remember not having anyone to talk to.
Because they do not understand.
It is all in the past.
It is all just memories.

Scars

I have my own set of scars.
Those who had the ideal childhood cannot see the scars.
They see excuses.
They see a life that needs to be lived outside of the past.
Those who had a rough childhood understands.
They see the constant pain.
They see the realm of reminders of things that happened.
I see that those things are not happening again.
I see that I am growing from them.
I see that I still feel everything.
I cannot forget what made me.
I cannot forget not remembering having parents because of the meth that was smoked in a pipe.
I cannot forget moving to many different schools because we never stayed put.
I cannot forget all those days of not having food, because meth was more important.
I cannot forget being shy and quiet because all I could think about was the day before.
All I could think about was the pipe and baggy I found in her purse.
I did not get close to anyone.
It was hard.
Hard to trust anyone when you cannot even trust your parents, the first two you think you can.
I do not have to get over what I went through.
I do not live a life of sorrow through it.
I live a life of happiness.
My mind just never forgets.
Pain does not go away.
It hides in deep places.
Scars do not disappear.
They only fade deeper.

Rough Moments

Ever feel like you are just having a really rough day.

Or maybe it even feels like a really rough two days.

Well for me it has felt like a really rough two weeks.

A time that I have been going through some ups and downs.

My long term relationship has been rocky.

My self-esteem has been extra low.

I stopped self-loathing and really went for it this time.

I found a self-help book that was not a pity party.

I found a self-help book that told me I was awesome and all the ways to rediscover that.

Not by doing some crazy adventure.

But just by a process of seeing who I am again.

It feels good.

I am learning how to be patient again.

I am learning how to be happy again.

I still feel like I am stuck in my depression and anxiety.

But I am seeking many natural ways to fix that.

I am looking to be more active (when it is not 100 degrees of course).

I am looking to indulge myself with happier people.

This post is not about me feeling all happy and well again.

This post is about me being real.

About me falling really deep in my emotions and trying to overcome what feels like I cannot.

I am a real person.

I am a person who has been breaking under my own emotions.