|—||Shakespeare (via psych-facts)|
I should look for all of my journals and post every entry I have ever written. Some people would probably be flattered to read of how I’ve dedicated countless moments pining over them.
If only I knew they cared enough to read.
Honestly, I wouldn’t post all of the entries for their attention or praise, I’d post for myself. Because I’ve always been too much of a coward to re-read/reflect on all the things I’ve written.
But how am I going to become a successful writer if I’m mortified by the idea of my words/emotions sealed upon each ink-stained paper?
Things I’ll consider doing in the near future, I suppose.
I had one night of drunken idiocy and on a mission to reconnect with people I have missed.
I don’t know where this sudden need to rekindle emotions stems from, but I think I went about things all wrong.
It says something to the kind of person I am; only expressing myself and my emotions while inebriated.
Perhaps I was fueled by the encouragement of another and my need to be accepted by my peers.
But it disappoints me that I do these things drunk. When I awoke this morning, I felt HORRIBLE. As if a train slammed into my face and there was just lingering negativity in the pit of my stomach like I did something wrong.
I don’t even know how long it’s been.. YEARS really. smh.
I don’t know how to hold conversations, I don’t know how to be a friend. I don’t know how to interact with people.
I don’t know what my dysfunction is, honestly.
I know what I have to do. I don’t know if I’m willing to do it though. I don’t know why I’ve become so closed off.
-sigh- time for sleep.
I’m so drunk, I want to exclaim my feelings through the rooftops of every suburban house and let her know I love her.
But I love him.
so, that poses a problem
Im drunk. have you met me?