Why Is It That The People You Want To Stay Wants To Leave And The People You Want To Leave Wants To Stay?

I feel like such a bad person.

Am I truly a bad person for wanting to just talk? I feel like I always am a bad person. Sometimes I wanna talk about current problems and other times I bring up my own past or other people's pasts. I try not to I just find myself doing it out of habit from always being stuck in MY past. I feel like if I ever want to talk to someone about how I feel that I am being to overbearing and putting to much on just one person, so then I just stop talking in general. I always get upset really easily too when something out of nowhere bothers me, like a simple little thought that just happens to pop into my head. I try not to let it out on other people but then I just get so overwhelmed that that I let it out on everyone who cares about me. Then I cry later because I think of sh!tty of a person I am for doing that to the people I love. What makes this all ten times worse it that I have Bipolar and I don't know how to control my emotions fully (I am working on it slowly) and it sucks because then it effects all of the relationships I have with people; whether that's a friendship, family relationship, or an actual relationship. It just sucks feeling like a bad person or the one who causes all the problems all the time.

But tell me now,

Where was my fault in loving you with my whole heart?

The trick is to do it without shame. Literally anything could be cool if you just did it shamelessly

warning, im gonna vent a lil

it’s really hard to comprehend how much i truly mean to someone. someone who was there since day one, who i’ve known all my life. they are the only person who knows me inside out and stayed when they saw who i really was. they liked me for me, and they never judged me a day in the years we spent together. how could someone leave after all that time?

all those promises, all those nights they reassured me that they’d never leave. that they’d never abandon me like everyone else did. all those nights i sobbed to them that i was scared that they’d leave, the same nights they’d convince me they were here to stay. even after all that, they still left. all those promises, all the things they had ever said to me meant nothing. i meant nothing to them.

and it’s not cruel that they left, it’s cruel because i wholeheartedly believed them.

There’s something so bittersweet about August.

About trying to savour those last little bits of the summer. Of the constant ache in your chest. The sunshine. The uncertainty.

I drive by so many empty childhood homes. They look the same, but there’s a solemn silence. You used to live there, remember that? I do.

The summer is ending. The leaves are changing.

But as always, August comes and goes, and with it so do I.

I embrace it, and I embrace you. Crying, and laughing, and saying goodbye with a smile.

(Maybe) I’ll see you again next year

Sincerely,

A girl homesick for a place she hasn’t left yet

Virginia Woolf, from a letter to Vanessa Bell written c. August 1908

dying inside while pretending that everything’s fine