Entries tagged with "friends"
I’m sitting in Ann Arbor eating ice cream across from someone I’ve loved for a long time. He doesn’t even know it. We’ve been friends since my mom passed away after a four year battle against lung cancer. I love him ‘cause he doesn’t give me shit for smoking cigarettes. I know if I wasn’t moving to California we could be together. I think he knows we would help each other, but what he doesn’t know is that he could probably save me. He looks cute with the ice cream on his shirt. I feel funny writing all this with him so close…
Indiscretion is a bitch. I’m just sayin.
I’m 23 years old and have accomplished nothing. I haven’t had a job in five years. I don’t have family, at least not family I can rely on. I have no home I just drift from one relationship to another. I just got out of a three year relationship with someone I considered my best friend but I can hardly look at him. I left him for his best friend.
Everything is strange. I thought, when I was younger I knew what love was. I am an “adult” now and I’m not sure.
I just don’t want to be alone.
I don’t want to have OCD or panic disorder.
I wish I didn’t have to rely on these stupid meds that I can’t afford anymore.
I wish I could relate to people and not cats.
I wish I knew for certain if he loved me… why does every decision I make feel like the wrong one? Would I even know if I was doing something right?
I hate other girls.
I hate trying to keep up with the world.
I hate the way people treat me.
I hate people.
I hate.
One day I’ll wake up from a long over-due sleep, where the air just feels right, and the light breaks into brightly colored fractals that dance on my eyelashes, and every breath I take has meaning, and for once, I’ll be ok with myself.
I need a sturdy beam.
I’m finding a lot of trouble when it comes to trusting the people who are closest to me. My family, my best friends, my boyfriend. I have more trust in someone I most likely will never see again, all they have of me is that one encounter. I think trusting someone you don’t know with your feelings and thoughts is a lot more safe than someone who knows you and your life. I don’t like the way I feel about trust and I think it will change over time. I hope so, at least. I think that’s why I’m writing this.
A few years ago, I went stargazing with some friends and two boys who were roommates. We all stretched out in a field and I lay between the two boys holding their hands. Shivering, we talked about everything and nothing, ghosts and fireflies and the moon falling to earth, and our ideas were sweeping and drunken and lovely. We talked as if it we were saying our last words to the people around us. By the end of the night I was half in love with both boys, even though I hardly knew them.
I ended up dating one and becoming close friends with the other. I fell in love for the first time; it was a heady, exhilarating rush, like being in the center of a storm. But occasionally I would wonder if I had made the wrong choice, and would really be better off with his roommate, my friend. Sometimes it felt like I WAS dating him, the three of us completed each other so perfectly. When the romance cooled after about a year, my boyfriend and I broke up. His friend helped me through it. I realized I might like him, probably always had.
A few weeks ago, he and I were hanging out, and we ended up stargazing again, just the two of us this time. We found shapes in the clouds, and made wishes on fireflies. I couldn’t help but feel that everything had possibly maybe finally come full circle. We stayed out ’til the sun rose, and ended up sleeping together as the last of the stars burned away. It was lovely, wonderful, confusing.
I just got this text from him: “No more hooking up, keep it just friends?”
I really wish I could write a different ending to this than that.
I just turned 29. I am married and I have a three year old. I love my wife but she can’t seem to keep a job. I don’t know why it happens. She is smart and really good at what she does but she doesn’t make friends well and that plays against her.
While I love her I can’t shake the idea of how much she holds me back. Always having to work a second job to help support us while she is looking for a job again.
I want to go back to school and finish my degree. Then she could just stay home if she wanted.
I am thinking of leaving her because if I stay I might end up hating her and I don’t want to hate her. I can stand the idea of not being with her more then I can stand the idea of hating her.
I really have every reason in the world to be happy. I’m going to go to an ivy league university. I have a great family, wonderful friends, but I’m not happy. There’s something missing and I have no idea what it is or if I’m ever going to find it. Last week, when I was looking through our storage room, I found a tattered yellow book marked ‘private,’ so, of course, I read it. It was my mom’s diary from when she was my age. I took it and I read it every night. I thought I knew my mom, I’m really close with her but as I read through her darkest fears and deepest secrets I realized that I don’t know her at all. Maybe this is how to fill the empty space: to keep searching for new meanings in what you think you know. I hope I can learn something new about what I know every day.
I’m 19. I started doing drugs when I turned 15, and I started snorting cocaine before I was 16. I lost all of my friends and my boyfriend who got me into it in the first place. I thought my life was over.
Last september I met this boy. We started talking and he hasn’t left my side since. He always promised he would help me get through it. I’ve been sober for 4 months now. The day before I met him I was planning my death. I owe my life to him.
I am a 21 year old male who is fairly normal in most regards, besides the fact that I’m a recovering heroin addict. I’ve been trying to “stay clean” for the last five years and only have been successful for about two years of it. About three months ago I left inpatient rehab, the fifth of my career. I’m not sure how I’ve survived this long, I’d always planned on being dead before I turned 21, that way I didn’t have to worry much about the consequences of my actions. It was nice for awhile, living recklessly got me into many interesting situations. Unfortunately my plan failed, seeing that I’m writing this right now. But I have an amazing family and although at times I am rather indifferent to being alive, if I no longer were it would be something my family would have to deal with every single day. Now I realize that the “easy way out” is not an option. I’ve lived in a “transitional living” environment in Ann Arbor for the last three and a half months and life has gotten better. I realize how terrible this all sounds and that I should be grateful to be alive. To talk like this is insulting to all the people out there whose lives were tragically cut short, all those who didn’t have a choice. But why write this if I’m not going to be honest? This book and the idea behind it is important for that reason. Anonymity makes it easy to be honest, to put into words what is really going on with us, instead of telling everyone who asks that we’re “fine.” Lately I’ve been struggling with the fact that I have to deal with this addiction. It’s not the first time of course but the first time in awhile, anyways. I can’t help but crave being “normal.” Along with not doing dope, it’s a requirement that I abstain form all chemicals along with an early curfew. I often feel that I’ve been dealt an unfair hand. I’m not talking exclusively about my living situation but rather my entire situation—living the last five years constantly hurting everyone who love me, dedicating all my time and energy to drugs, whether actively using or trying not to. I’ve missed out on so much, which is why I’ve recently been frustrated and unhappy, I spend a lot of my time walking around downtown observing all the students, having the “college experience” and they seem to have it made. I can’t help but dwell on the fact that I should be one of them, it seems I’ve lost myself over the years consumed by how “different” I am. I can’t imagine how whiny and self absorbed I must sound. I try not to be, a lot of the time I’m able to accept my circumstances I mean despite the way I feel about them, they’re not going to change. So I can either just accept it and deal with it, because being miserable is easy, anyone can do it. Life’s too short, and we only get one shot at it so might as well make the best of it. I feel much better.
I have such a boring life. I’m 16, hang out with my friends and family, have no boyfriend, don’t get involved in any drama, and I have no significant secrets about my life. but one day I hope I do, because I want to know that there is something so big that happened in my life that only I know about. the only problem is that the people who carry those secrets hate it and would kill to have my ‘perfect’ life, but I still want it. i want something big to happen in my life that I will forever hold as my secret that changed my life, one that no one else knows. I want to be able to know that I have something to tell when someone I love asks me to tell them something that they don’t know about me, because right now, I have no secrets, and I probably never will.
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