i don’t know why but i did. actually i’ve come to many conclusions recently, and i’m going to type them all out here. even if it takes me hours even if my fingers start to bleed. my head feels like its going to explode unless i speak, and i don’t have anyone i want to talk to… well i do. but i’m not sure if he’d listen and i don’t want to push him away.
i hate feeling like i have no one to talk to. i really don’t want to tell anyone, but i want to. it’s a hard emotion to describe. i feel like i should, but i don’t trust anyone enough or i don’t want to burden them. why do they need to feel my pain with me? i’m not supposed to feel pain. well i am, but in my friends i’m always the happy one, the smiling one, the laughing one, the one with the inspiration. but once, just once will someone have some inspiration for me? i’m drowning. it gets harder and harder to move on, that’s why i do so much my love. its because the moment i stop, i realize how little i’ve accomplished and how far i still have to go. it depresses me. so keeping occupied makes me lose sight of that. i have so far to go, and i haven’t done anything worth while in this life. sometimes i forget that i was put on this earth for a reason, but i just don’t know the reason.
anyway, my epiphany. i had it two days ago. i was in the kitchen and my mom started like… crying? well like squealing almost. it’s hard to describe the sharp cry she makes when she’s in pain. you see, my mom is a diabetic. that means she has to give herself around four shots a day to keep her blood sugar levels under control. she has this new needle/device which i guess its better. the neddle is really small and not as thick as some in the past. but still it doesn’t make when she inserts it into herself any easier. sometimes she crys out from the pain, and it’s so hard to listen. it’s so hard to know she’s struggling just so she can stay alive. she’s been struggling since she was seventeen. and when she found out she went to her car and cried, i wonder if she still does that. the hardest part is when she needs help, when she can’t reach her new spot, when she can’t push in the needle all the way, or seeing the damage it does to her. i had to give her a needle for the first time that day, and i’ve never done it before. she couldn’t reach the new section of her arm. so i had to put it in for her. and… i didn’t know i was supposed to do it fast, so i tried going nice and easy. and that makes it hurt even worse. i caused my mom extra pain. so i had to quickly stab her, and then push the needle/button all the way down to deliver the medicine and pull it out. she winced, but tried to be strong, she knew it was bothering me. i hate when she cant push it in all the way, and i have to finish it for her. it’s just rough. i’m grateful i’m not a diabetic. after seeing all the pain she goes through, i wouldn’t want that.
which leads me to my epiphany. she doesn’t ask for it, the needles, the pain, the self inflicted pain. she just has to do it, she has to do it to stay alive. so i understand why i don’t really understand cutters, druggies, or people who just inflict harm upon themselves. it’s like why? you don’t need it. you don’t need the extra stress. well that’s a lie i understand why they do that, but i also understand why I don’t. it destroys the people around you, its not needed, its mocking those who have to do it everyday to stay alive. i’m one of those people that has been destroyed, and now i’m speaking out. so please don’t hurt yourself, stop and take a look at people who have no choice. people who have to prick them self a dozen times a day just to make sure they can wake up the next morning. look at my mom, look at her pain, and look what it’s done to her and our family. look what its done to me. i’m broken because of it. i am petrified of needles, of hurting myself, of drugs. i don’t look down upon those that do, but i just wonder why? and how?
second epiphany. i think i’m in love. i really and honestly do. no i don’t mean like brandon love, that was not love. he just said i love you and so i said it back. i never meant it. virgil is different. first off. we’re not dating. second of all. i didn’t think i was in love with him until i had to say goodbye to him. i met him at brown university. he was in the sex drugs and rock and roll class about the sixties with erin and katie. (i’ll talk about them later) and he was just wicked chill. he liked this other girl, and was hooking up with her, kelly. but he said she was kinda weird and didn’t get his weirdness but I didn’t like him then. i just thought he was cool. i mean, he was from france, but his english was perfect. he pretended to be from hartford!
i just clicked with him immediatly. i dont know if he feels the same, but i hope he does. like we became best friends so fast, and hanging out with him was so easy. he stayed at my house this weekend, and i’ve never had more fun doing nothing in my life. we played monopoly, scrabble, watching supernatural. and just… hung out. he slept in his boxers and shirtless. our legs touched so many times, and only now i’m remembering… gah i hadn’t even shaved. and he’d just look me in the eyes, and smile, or just to listen to me. he always made eye contact. he has beautiful eyes… he would make eye contact with me and we either laugh or make a face. omg i’m so pathetic. i’m starting to cry just thinking about him. like i haven’t even known him for two weeks. how can i be feeling so strongly about a stranger? but the thing is he isn’t a stranger. i feel closer to him than most of my friends i’ve known for years… and i think he might feel the same. i made him a friendship bracelet with the french colors, and i legit finished with seconds left. i put it on him, and he said “tie it so tight that when i come back next year it’ll still be on.” he wants to visit me again next year for a month. i want him to come back. i want him back with me more than anything. saying goodbye was one of the hardest moments of my life. that’s when it hit me that he might never return, that i might never see him again. it felt like i was losing a part of me. god that’s cheesy, and i started to cry. and he made this frowny face back and i nearly broke down when i hugged him and kissed his cheek. he kissed mine back… i miss him so much, more than anyone else from camp or ever.
his birthday is three weeks aftermine, so i made him a present. a mixed cd. its really lame and the songs don’t match, but the titles convey a message. i hope he gets it. i also made him a card and a letter and an opener. it was really sweet and corny. i hope it doesn’t push him away. he’s too good for me, and i know that. but still. i’m selfish and dont want to share him. it makes me happy to see that vipasha was written on his wall three times and he hasn’t responded yet. i dont want to lose what i’ve found, i hope he writes back to me soon. we’re going to write. how cute and formal. i couldn’t be more excited. i hope he writes in french. i wrote him a six or eight page letter saying how i realized i might love him, but i’m not going to send it to him… not yet. we finally discovered how to text, but he doesnt really text that much. i think its kinda new to him. very american.
i’m sixteen, three weeks, and a day and i think i’ve met the perfect boy for me and that i might be in love, but he was never what i thought i wanted. he’s the opposite of everything i thought i wanted but everything i need and more. he’s perfect.
i’ll end on that note. <3
peace, love, and epiphanies.
