Back to day 1

I messed up last night. In a rather blunt state of unease, I lost myself and started pulling my hair again. It hasn’t been a pull free month by any measure, but I had been doing better.

Stress, insomnia, being sick, loneliness, change, all sort of crowd in on you, and its not until you see the pile of hair on the floor that you realize all the hurt.

Tomorrow is another day, and you just have to go on, hoping it will better.

Change awaits. The cliff is waiting, now all I have to do is jump.

A series of unpleasant dreams left me feeling exposed and vulnerable this week. Lack of people I feel I can talk to/people who want to talk to me added itself to the mix, and made for a lonely, lachrymose weekend.

That is all.

Strange stressful painful confusing week of general notgoodness, sprinkled with glimmers of not so bad.

boom crunch

I didn’t get any grades from last semester. Nothing. It was an academic waste.

My financial aid was approved, but it never went through. I have been aware of this for some time, but have been ignoring it.

Why? Because of my mom.

The time has come where I can no longer withhold this information from her.

In mere minutes, my life is going to experience an implosion.

Fruit.

I am a pomegranate.

I happened upon this metaphor a few months ago while playing the question game (truth or dare without the dares) with a close friend. After exhausting topics of favorite/ least favorite this and thats (colors, tv shows, actors, movies, books, poets, writers, you get the idea) we started asking more abstract questions.

"If you were a superhero, what would your power be?"

"If you were a tree, what species would you be?"

"What decade would you have liked to live in?"

When asking questions to others, I generally know what my answer would be. Other times I know, or at leat I think I know, what the answeres answer will be. With the question,

"What fruit best represents you?" I had no idea of either. Luckily, he knew both.

"You are a pomegranate."

I had my doubts, but as of now, I am convinced that this is true.

His reasoning; "You are a bitch to get open, but well worth the struggle."

I try to not let my insecurities get in the way of my well being, but recently they are harder and harder to ignore. I have a hard time opening up to people. I have issues when it comes to making friends. I rarely make the first move. In short, I'm shy. Why? Because I am often left to wonder, am I worth the struggle?

I have few close friends, but I am truly thankful for the ones that took the time and struggle to get me to open up.

I sometimes wonder if anyone reads this. Sometimes I don't care.

Thats a lie

I've been a negligent blogger. My reason? For feeling neglected. Ironic, yes, I know. This starts the new attempt at being a better blogging.