Skip to main content
today i was almost hit by a police car who had turned its lights on as I was almost passed him in an intersection. He turned the corner onto my road and nearly tboned me because he had taken an unnecessarily wide turn into the second lane (the one I was in.) I slam on my breaks before he acctually hit me, stalled the car, and the police officer pulls up beside me and yells in my window"when my lights are on you stop! stop means stop!!!" and I blabber a "yes, im sorry im sorry" and he drives away. This shock sent me into tears, and as I pull up to the next red light this guy pulls up beside me and tells me I was in the right and that the cop was being a giant douche. I thanked him as best I could through sobs. My heart was pounding and I felt like such a bad person, and totally frazzled and freaked about almost getting in my first accident and with an effin' police car to boot, that I can't stop crying. And Scott beside me tries to calm me down, and I could tell he didn't think I should be crying. This of course made me cry even more, and the cycle deepened until I couldn't keep my eyes dry without a constant deliberate effort. Every now and then the too-fresh memory would creep back in, and I'd feel a twinge and let a tear slip, trying my best to keep it secret. Then the fact that I had to try and pretend like I wasn't still upset made me feel worse. The only thing that got me out of the rut was weed and a show by taylor cochrane.
I cry alot, more than I should, and I'm aware of it. I've been getting better, but every now and then, especially in such extraneous situations, I can't hold it in any longer. And the best thing for me is to get it out, and then on my own time I will breathe myself back to normalcy. But I guess I get self conscious in such a fragile state, that I can't handle anyone's disapproval. It just rips another wound for me to bleed from.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

neighborhood nights

I feel like somewhere along my life there was a shift. Suddenly nothing was for fun any more, it was all necessary. Suddenly I'm bothering with what others think, afraid to link any connotations I deem negative to my being. Why do I care what people I've never met, who'll forget they ever saw me, think of me; this obscure stranger in their peripherals. It's a warped sense of mind and place, seeing the space around me in my mind's made up ways. So I stray away from everyone, isolating myself unwittingly, turning them against me. Self fulfilling prophecies, I succeed in creating this reality. I need to break free from my mind's mentalities, with which negativity has propelled me. So I've started a new sport. I call it neighborhood night dancing. Donning headphones and heading out alone to the empty streets as the city sleeps, and moving to the beat. Letting it compel me towards a freedom long gone missing. Letting go is an art. Complete release is a tough ...
2 comments
Read more

zip.

I dread human contact. I absolutely hate it. I hate having to think of something to say, hate having to feign interest and sympathy. It's a stressful situation and I don't even know why. I guess it's the culmination of all my antisocial tendencies over the years. Once you get into a habit it gets harder and harder to change as time goes by. I've always been the shy one, the quiet one. The exception is my friends. I'm talkative and at ease with the people I like. I love my friends and I love having friends, but I dread making them. It's like it's too much effort to be worth it. All the awkward getting to know eachothers and stuff, I'd rather just avoid it completely. But it's getting me into trouble. People think I'm arrogant, too good to talk to them. Or that I hate them. Such is the case with my mother. She's been living at her parent's house, and so I rarely see her. That suited me fine, because less interactions the better. So whenever...
2 comments
Read more

Home

I looked back at blog entries, and even though the subject matter was less than pleasant to be reminded of, it was still good, I'm glad I have written reminders so I have points of reference to gauge my growth. And I've come far. I often feel like I've had three stages in my life. The first was with Brent, and though I was a newborn in love's eyes, I soon grew to an extremely old age. My heart was always cracked and my spirit became dulled. I became clogged with darkness, became tired and dragged myself through the days. But I never stopped. I stubbornly sacrificed myself each day for someone whom I thought it was going to help. I was wrong. The first day of my second stage was the day I stopped caring about him and finally focused on myself. I was free, and I was drunk with it. Too drunk. I dove into something that made me happy, too quick. I soon realized there were other ways to get hurt. this stage wasn't that defining, though I began to learn to take things as ...
2 comments
Read more