Fuck. Everything. This is my life recently in case anyone wanted to know. I doubt anyone would though.

Once I start slipping. I don't know how to stop.

You just start writing

I never know what to say. I've never known what to say. I've always been quiet. I've never stood up for myself. Writing is something that releases me. It is silent and it is words that no-one can take away from me. I just start writing.

In my room sits notebooks upon notebooks where random pages are filled with random thoughts. Sometimes everything just flows out of me and more often than not—they don't. That's the reasoning behind my absence on my blog here. I don't know what to say sometimes. But tonight I feel like I have so much to say.

Like I said, I've never been good at letting people know how I feel or what's going on in my head. For as long as I can remember I always shoved everything inside of me. I have been bottling up everything for so long that I don't know how to stop. Lately it has been becoming a problem.

This past week was a tough week to get through. It seemed like everything was falling apart. All of the plans that I had depended on crumbled and the people who I counted on to help me didn't follow through. I found it harder to heal myself this time around. It got to the point where I'd stash toilet paper rolls under my nightstand because I'd be a sobbing, emotional wreck at night. I'd get only 3-4 hours of sleep because of it.

A no-one knew.

And what was I supposed to say to them? It's not fair of me to pass on my problems to someone else. I agree to a point that you always have to talk to people about your problems—heck I want to be a therapist myself—but what happens when you just don't know where to start? What happens when you realize that this problem that just came up to the surface has been haunting you for the longest time? What happens when you figure out that your problem is something that can't be fixed alone? And what happens when being alone is all you've got?

I just don't know what to do.

I keep finding myself going back to the saying "It would be so much easier if...." but right after, I realize that that "if"can't happen. Because I'm living in the consequences of that "if". That "if" is "what if I didn't run away from home?" I know that I wouldn't be in a safe environment, but I wouldn't have to be so alone like I am now. I'd have some sort of security.

My guidance counselors are trying to explain all of these financial resources to me and how I have to fill out different forms along with my taxes to apply for things that I might qualify for. All of this stuff just flies right over my head and at the end of it all, I'm sitting crying in my room because I don't know what's going on. I have no idea what the hell I'm going to do! I don't have any clue what they are all talking about! What forms? How do I do taxes? What are taxes even? And then all of a sudden I figure out that I have to pay for college all by myself. I was qualified as independent a couple months after I turned seventeen. I currently have forty eight cents in my bank account and oh yeah, I'm unemployed. So someone please tell me how in the absolute fuck am I going to do this? How am I going to do any of this?

I know all I say is "it makes you stronger" but when you're pretty damn close to rock bottom, you don't have much strength left.

The sad part is, is that I'm not even done yet. The list of problems that I have goes on for a while. I don't have the energy to keep it going anymore.

So there you go. I started writing and now I'm done for a while. I didn't spell check anything and I didn't even read through this once. I'm going to go to bed now and if you wanted to know....yeah, I'm doing great.

Because that's what I always say.

-Nessa

To explain my randomness....

The few of you that happen to stumble upon my blog may look at my recent postings and be wondering, "What on Earth is this girl talking about? Her writing doesn't make any sense!" Well to answer that question, I have become frustrated with my writers block. It's not that I forgot about my blog, I'd always started to write, but then I'd never finish. I'd type out random words, sentences, and paragraphs trying to explain all the crap that was running through my brain—and for the last few months—a solid piece of writing wouldn't have been able to capture (excuse the language) but half the shit that was going on in my life! So acting upon my frustration, I decided to just publish some of my unfinished drafts. I feel like those entries that I have written suffice in translating my thoughts. It's not perfect, but it's my crazy mind. If you would like to read some of my normal, put together writing start with my first entry all the way to "I'm not that kind of girl". There's your explanation!

-Nessa<3

PS: In non-fancy talk. All the posts in weird font that looks like this is one that is unfinished.

I don't know why

I don't know why people say they're going to change, when they know deep down they won't.
I don't know why I feel the urge to fix every problem, whether it's mine or not.

I mentioned before about how I wasn't the biggest fan of drinking and drugs and all that.

But lately, it's becoming a problem. I don't know what to do.

I feel lately, what I've been feeling is lost.

A lot of times, I don't know what to do! The decisions that I've been making in the last few months have been easily the hardest decisions that I've ever had to make in my life.

I'm scared.
I am freaking scared out of my mind.
What if I make the wrong decision? What if I end up screwing everything up?

I'm not ready! I'm not ready to make these kinds of choices! Not now, not ever! I have no idea what I'm doing anymore. Things are changing to fast for me to really understand what would be the smartest path. And I'm afraid I'm going to not make the right one.

I never got to be a kid. That's all I want. I want to be a kid. I wanna be able to go outside and play and go to birthday parties at Chuckie Cheese and watch endless Disney movies and eat endless Mac and Cheese. I want to not care. I want to not make these life changing decisions, I'm not ready.

“What does it feel like to be alive?
Living, you stand under a waterfall. You leave the sleeping shore deliberately; you shed your dusty clothes, pick your barefoot way over the high, slippery rocks, hold your breath, choose your footing, and step into the waterfall. The hard water pelts your skull, bangs in bits on your shoulders and arms. The strong water dashes down beside you and you feel it along your calves and thighs rising roughly back up, up to the boiling surface, full of bubbles that slide up your skin or break on you at full speed. Can you breathe here? Here where the force is the greatest and only the strength of your neck holds the river out of your face. Yes, you can breathe even here. You could learn to live like this. And you can, if you concentrate, even look out at the peaceful far bank where maples grow straight and their leaves lean down. For a joke you try to raise your arms. What a racket in your ears, what a scattershot pummeling!
It is time pounding at you, time. Knowing you are alive is watching on every side your generation's short time falling away as fast as rivers drop through air, and feeling it hit.

Who turned on the lights? You did, by waking up: you flipped the light switch, started up the wind machine, kicked on the flywheel that spins the years. Can you catch hold of a treetop, or will you fly off the diving planet as she rolls? Can you ride out the big blow on a coconut palm's trunk until you fall asleep again, and the winds let up you fall asleep again, and you slide in a dream to the palm tree's base; the winds die off, the lights dim, the years slip away as you idle there till you die in your seep, till death sets you cruising down the Tamiami Trail.

Knowing you are alive is feeling the planet buck under you, rear, kick, and try to throw you; you hang on to the ring. It is riding the planet like a log downstream, whooping. Or, conversely, out step aside from the dreaming fast loud routine and feel time as a stillness about you, and hear the silent air asking in so thin a voice, Have you noticed yet that you will die? Do you remember, remember, remember? Then you feel your life as a weekend, a weekend you cannot extend, a weekend in the country.

O Augenblick verweile.

I haven't written in a while I know. I'm going to fill you in on what has changed.
It's not that I don't go on here, the thing is that I do....a lot. I log on and then I write a message, but then I stop. I stop because every single time I write, I am at a loss for words.
Somedays are good, and somedays are bad. You just need to learn to, believe it or not, enjoy both of them! You know why? Because you're alive. You will never get a day back. You will never get a second back. Why do you want that second wasted on something that doesn't make you feel good?

I have to say that things for me lately have been going pretty well! And I could tell you that. But the thing is, is that you don't know that last night I was on the phone with my mom (my real mom) crying so hard because she wouldn't listen to anything I had to say. Crying because it felt like no-one was here for me, crying because I didn't know what to do. I just needed somebody, but I didn't want anybody.

And lately everyone has been asking me what I want and I always say the same thing. I say: "I don't know" and people must be getting really annoyed hearing me say that, but I don't have anything else to say! I just don't know! And I guess here's my reasoning: I am seventeen years old. I'm a foster child who ran away from home. I am flat on my ass broke. I never got to grow up. I've never had a childhood, I never got to be a kid or act like a kid. But all of a sudden, I have to make these decisions that an adult wouldn't be able to make. I have to decide if I'm going to move home, or to stay where I am. The thing is, is that I want to go home....but I can't. I can't because if I did go back, it would be the same. I don't believe that anything has changed!