Currently Reading Poisonwood Bible : A Novel By Barbara Kingsolver see related

I'm not accustomed to telling people how I feel or expressing what's on my mind. Even what you see here is not nearly close enough to comprehend who I am, had you ever the wish to do so. Girl friends, boyfriends... my life is private. My real issues are not shared. There are people I can tell things to but it only scratches the surface. For the longest time I was satisfied with keeping every emotion, thought, question, revelation bottled inside, occasionally confiding in a few who I believe will understand and care to some extent, or ones so removed from the situation I feel comfortable sharing. The ones who understand parts of me I could probably count them off all on one hand... 

Life is confusing; how do people get by without spilling everything in their heart and mind? Mine are about to breakdown. There are people who can tell anybody absolutely anything. Then there are people who are satisfied without finding out who people are. I can tell people things but how many will care or actually understand what I really mean? How many people really comprehend anyone? Not a soul can even surmise who I am.

Adam, I can't talk to you anymore. Not like before. Once I could tell you nearly everything; you paid attention to only half but at least you understood on some level. Trivial or deep, you were there. But you're not sharing the life I live now; you're not apart of my current experiences, as I am not a part of yours. Even simply finding the time to talk is a problem. As is the same with many others.
It's a shame. But I must admit, you still understand me better than anyone.

Every individual is so different that communication is quite impossible. I bet people are misunderstanding even as they read this. I can say one thing, but is it the same as what you hear? Most will interpret it the way they are programmed to.

I can't keep it locked inside anymore; it feels dishonest.
But I'm also reluctant to give it all away and leave myself vulnerable. 
I've tried being "real" and open but it fails and spits in the face of one as sensitive as me. We all need a certain facade. It allows others to stereotype you and feel safe. Knowing someone on a mentally intimate level can be frightening. Letting others see how you think, what you think, is frightening. Someone you presume to know so well, a sister perhaps, can prove you really don't.
I'm not just another cynic. Experience has taught me that allowing people in leaves yourself open to criticism and future pains. I never thought of myself as having issuses about trust. I usually plow head first into the situation despite potential hurts and problems that will arise. I'm growing up though. We need these facades. The world isn't a friendly place and it's wise to be cautious. I supppose I will continue on like this, giving away parts of myself bit by bit.   

I say this yet why do I feel so abandoned.

Currently Listening Wreck of the Day By Anna Nalick Breathe see related

"If I get it all down on paper, it's no longer inside of me,
Threatening the life it belongs to
And I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud"

Naps are sooo dangerous. Now I can't sleep. Good job, Kris.

I want to write. I really do. I just don't know what to say... or how to say it.
Life has been so uneventful lately... but I shouldn't really say that. All I mean to say is that the drama that was once so prevalent in my life has passed. With shocking revelation, I think I can say that I've finally grown up...
I am content. Aren't I?
I feel as if I am a better daughter, sister, and friend than I once was. And isn't that what's important? Hm, I don't know. I would like to say I've thrown away all the pettiness and silly whims, but I can't.
At least I can say they've all been minimized. Great, is this what adulthood is about?

When I put my feelings into words all I can think of is this: I feel empty.

I know, I know... one should write it off as me simply taking life for granted. I should be happy. Why am I not satisfied when there are greater issues affecting masses of equally deserving people?
I don't know.
But now that I approach life more logically, I feel as if something is missing. I feel as if I'm on autopilot: is this what the rest of my life will be like? Is it only me who feels this way? Seems like it. Why must I be so selfish... I feel old but they claim my life is just beginning. I suppose I should just suck it up. Nobody ever guaranteed life would be filled with ever constant happiness and excitement. Ignore it. It will go away.

Hm, upon thought I guess there is a key reason my life is a bit more dreary now.
He's gone, yes. The one who made me laugh; the one who listened and put up with my nonsense. And now our relationship is strained and rather threadbare. Our paths have diverged. But it was to be expected. That's what made the parting so exquisitely sad: because we knew. Will it ever be the same? I really don't know. Only time can tell. I hope time will answer kindly.

I'm at a turning point in my life. Supposely an exciting, pivotal, fate altering point. Hahaha, not quite. My addiction to drama may have passed but once in awhile the memories will quietly resurface. Followed by unwanted melancholy. But it's fleeting.
Oh what I lack is so simple...
A reason. Passion for life. It is so unfortunate that I face reasons for motivation daily but for some reason or another, it's just not enough. Don't tell me my passion left when he... and they left? In that case, isn't it a rather hopeless situation? I suppose the silly whims have all but dispersed.

I think I will end my ranting here. 
  

I have decided to update my poor, neglected xanga. How I have missed this highly-visible net journal. This is my place to rant, ramble, bitch in composed written form. This is strictly for my benefit.  

Well, I suppose most people would view my life as... uneventful. I must admit; it is no O.C or (thank goodness) Desperate Housewives - but drama comes in many forms. There are the slow, gut-wrenching pains that only people who will insufferably catch and examine every detail and aspect of life will understand. No, nobody I know is dying. Nobody is suffering abuse - at least not physically. No one is below the poverty line.

But like I have said, there are other subtle pains. Like the pain of realizing fear. Not having enough time or being unable to fulfill dreams; to prove to your family that your parents did a damned good job raising you and your sister. Paying gratitude to sappy grandmothers who have raised you and strict grandfathers who have taught you so much - before it is too late. Supporting parents who have sacrificed everything for you. Proving to those who failed to believe in you and those who have thought the best of you with unshakeable faith. What if it is all simply an unachievable whim?  

How about the pain of a broken relationship? No, nothing as silly as dating.
Yes, you once believed this relationship would never go sour. One day you would both be successful: your children would be friends and you would meet up once a year to chat about old times. But shit happens.
Many never knew how close you two were; even those closest to you could not guess. While a few false friendships were crumbling, you thought this one would remain. You are not being too sensitive: you were used. While you thought you would be brought closer, you were drawn further apart.
And how you cried when you realized this.
Time to realize you do not need others to justify your existence and proclaim your self-worth. But will you let what once was die before you go your separate ways? Fuck, I don't know.

Broken relationships come in many forms such as a father spoiling his daughter rotten with unconditional love but the relationship deteriorates - until you are no longer daddy's little girl. And it hurts.
It hurts because you did not realize at the time what you had; you unconciously kept testing his seemlingly unbreakable loyalty. Eventually, you wore it down to a threadbare existence and his perspective of you was forever altered. He gave up. And it seems no matter how hard you try, nothing can repair this broken relationship no matter what you would give in this world to get it back. Everyday carefully combing your hair and putting it in a messy ponytail for kindergarten. Ensuring you made it to school on time from elementary to high school. Making you laugh and letting you cry. Bringing you to swimming lessons, picking you up from Chinese lessons, and paying for the chance to learn the piano; all of which you quit. Constantly buying you toys when there was neither the money or the room for them. 
Fulfilling your every freakin' wish.
When did you realize it had all gone wrong? That you had lost one of the few important unsuperficial things from this mess called life? Words are exchanged with difficulty as if spoken across a gulf. Futile. It will never be the same. But hey, growing up does that.

lol. Don't worry, I am not always this cheerful.

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