Tag Archives: dead


You know what absolutely sucks? Leaving bad things behind.

It’s not that part that sucks, really. It’s the fact that when you leave bad things behind, you inevitably leave good things behind too. And the good things.. let’s be honest- not things, people. When you leave the good people behind, they don’t really know why you left. They don’t know how much the bad things hurt you or how much it hurts to leave the good people. They don’t understand the pain that fills you when you think about going back. They don’t know you can’t let yourself think about them because it hurts much too much to do so. They don’t know how much you had to fake it or the kind of front you put up just so you’d survive.

And then you feel bad because you left them behind. And you know, you know, you know, you know, that you can’t go back. And you can’t do that again. And it’s the reason part of you is dead. It’s a piece of you that your body literally would do better without because it’s trying to infect the parts of you that are still alive. But still. You feel bad. Because you were good. You just had to be so freaking good to some people that now that you’re gone, they miss you. And leaving people like that really isn’t in your job description because you know what it’s like. And you want to be there for everyone if only they weren’t there. You know, that place you can’t go because… well you don’t know why.

But you know that you have to go back soon and the thought strikes you with fear and makes you crazy. Because why would you want to return to a place that saw so much of your pain? Why would you want to return to a place that stole hours and hours and hours from you that you’ll never get back? A place filled with emotion and pain and hurt but also with comfort because, hell! it’s all you knew for four years of your life. But at some point, a home turned into a prison and, for crying out loud, you still can’t figure out which one is it.

You just feel bad because you left all the good things along with all of the bad things. And you just wonder how long they’re going to keep hurting you.




Back in November, I wrote a blog about learning to hate what I once loved. It’s really weird. I’ve ripped that part of me out. I don’t want to be dramatic but… I feel like a part of me has died. I don’t enjoy what I used to anymore.

I… I want to know if that part of me can be revived. Not now. Not even soon. For a while, I need to act like it was never a part of me. I don’t want to be associated with it. I don’t want anyone to know me by that.

But in a few years? I don’t know. The problem is that what little confidence I had is gone and my insecurities eat me alive. They literally make me want to crawl into a dark hole or box and not come out for a very, very, very long time.

How silly is that?

Four years ago, or five or six or ever, I never would have guessed that this is where I’d be. I don’t know what I was thinking.

By the way, having something that is a part of you die is incredibly painful. It’s probably supposed to be. It sounds really stupid and it feels really stupid but I will literally never get this part of me back to the way it was. I don’t even remember exactly what it was like.

I just….honestly, it was stupid of me to ever think I could keep it alive.