And then I'll never say it again.

Drop DROP DROP. Drop you like a bad habit. Drop you like a rotten fruit. Drop you like a tear. Drop DROP DROP.

I think people need to go through things in order to realize how hard is it to loosen your grasp on something that has hurt you in so many ways.

Retribution.

Just a nice way of saying "revenge" really. Sometimes people yell at you and don't say sorry. Sometimes people land you in the hospital and don't say sorry. Sometimes people start dating your friends and don't. say. sorry. What can you do? What can you say?

You hold it in for 8 months getting angrier as you smile through your gritted teeth and assure everyone that you're over it, wrong You're over the PAIN. You're NOT over the anger. You're NOT OVER THE FACT that two people could be so ignorant and could seriously fuck you up in the brain THAT MUCH amongst other things.

So forgive me, when I say I'm not sorry for doing what I did.

I'm sorry for the consequences it served towards other people--friends. I'm sorry that I had to have people clean up my mess. I'm sorry I even CAUSED a mess at someone's house and with their neighbors. But I'm NOT sorry for letting people know how I feel.

It's NOT just one of those things you DROP. It's one of those coals that burns in the palm of your hand, and even though it's hot and burns like a motherfucker, you hold it even tighter STILL...through simultaneous burning tears and you let the anger burn through your palm scorching your insides. And people ask, why the FUCK would you put yourself through so much masochism? It's not that. Not for me. You see, I've found someone who...I really think could take care of me and love me. I've been wary about my choices because the last one was obviously not so great...and this new one...he's helped me to drop all my inhibitions and calmed me down and saved me from a possible relapse. How much more could I ask for from someone I've only been talking to for two months? But see...I REALLY DON'T FEEL BAD for lunging. Because I could finally LET LOOSE about how I REALLY felt.

Sometimes it's those LOW things that make you feel better about yourself. I WAS a model citizen. I TRIED to be nice to EVERYONE AND THEIR MOMS. I TRIED to cater to everything HE wanted and MORE. But in that process, I forgot all about myself. And IN THAT PROCESS, I was DROWNED OUT by everyone else's needs and wants that I completely forgot what my sense of self was. I was mentally fucked up before someone TOLD me I was mentally fucked up. You just cut the last thread of sanity I was relying on. YOU made me DROP. But I will thank you for this. YOU rose me up. YOU made me realize what I am ABOVE.

And I'm not going to apologize for STILL being angry with you. Because I have been put through so much crap by you.

I WON'T APOLOGIZE for making you CRY because you only cried ONCE. I CRIED FOR 8 WEEKS. I SHOOK FOR 8 WEEKS. AND I HAD NIGHTMARES ABOUT YOU FOR EIGHT. MOTHERFUCKING. WEEKS. SO DON'T. EVER. THINK. ABOUT CALLING ME. A SLUT. If I heard wrong, I will admit to that. Hell. I'll even apologize for the LUNGING. If anything, I coulda just yelled at you to your face and still felt better. BUT. If you have shit to say, you better motherfucking hope I hear it said to my face.

BECAUSE I WON'T FEEL BAD.

DROPPED.

"Swaying with wide steps, like lost beasts in the wilderness, we walked around, fucked up on life..."

I can't for the life of me deduce what exactly I want to write about right now. Besides sitting in a coffee shop looking like a pretentious twat acting smarter than I probably am, I've been cursed with the constant need to always brood over whatever the fuck happened to me in the past whatever, however many days ago. The fucked up thing about it is that it's always about something sad, or angering. And I wonder, when the fuck did it all become so easy to be so angry?

I want to blame someone. I want to blame something. When did it become so easy to be so cynical? To be angry over the things that you unreasonably brought upon your own self and blame others for them? Why is it so much easier to live in fear...to create reason out of the absence of reason?

Why is it so easy to condemn others for their shortcomings as though we ourselves have lived our lives like perfect little model citizens? Why?

Why?

Thus begins my constant interest in the study of people--their differences in lifestyles, their various struggles, the challenges they face and their ways of overcoming them. But how can I not let my anger interfere with that interest? How can I separate MY very strong opinions from unbiased observation? Why doesn't anyone else think it's possible that people who live under seemingly perfect conditions can live just as shitty a life as someone from the inner city? And why doesn't anyone believe that people who go through "struggles" are probably victimizing themselves more than they are making themselves stronger? And I wonder, am I that asshole? What am I? I know what I want to be. But am I that person to the people I care about most? Whose opinion REALLY matters? Feel free to give me all that self-help guru bullshit, but when did it ever work for more than ten minutes?

Maybe it's the book I just read, or my recent life happenings, or my inability to forget, or my self-proclaimed title as the "queen of the golden grudge," be it what it may, I have this strong penchant to question everything right now. I guess I knew that some sort of instability would happen sooner or later after my five month absence/recuperation. But I wouldn't call it a relapse, I would call it...selfishness.

I don't necessarily think I could go through that low again without dying the second time. So I'm doing more than trying to stay out of it. It just sucks when people mindfuck you and you have to find some mature way of dealing with it while being this incredibly angry person inside. And GOD, where did the anger COME FROM? No one know, no answers, just speculation.

"If you don't want to hang out with me, I will not be hurt. Just fucking say so. Don't fucking say otherwise, dragging me along for the most dreadful ride of my life. You shit."

I know I've said some form of that quote once or twice or thrice in my life, and it's quotes like that--that negate our anger at face value, but validate it even more on the inside. How fucking ironic.

I think the more I said I was over it, the angrier I got that there was no justice. No fucking retribution for the pain I went through. Just more pain. And is that immature? I wouldn't blame you if you said it was. I've come to terms with accepting people's opinions of me and my actions--good or bad. Sometimes I find it interesting that I'd believe the people who fuck me over than I would the people who claim to raise me back up. I know what I want to be, but I wonder if I'm that...

"Human existence is the engine of a 1962 Impala. It's encased in something stunning in fair weather, something beautifully cryptic when in peril, and always shifting."

Oh how Cristy Roads explains it in such a way that makes me fall in love with human existence. It makes me want to go through life with the top down and running my hair through the wind next to some beach with wayfarers on and some cool shit playing on the stereo. She makes it seem more romantic than it probably is...but you wish it could be. I wish my life was a coming of age story. I wish I was Charlie. I wish I was Holden. I wish I was Carmen. I wish I was Cristina. Then I start thinking that the shit that goes on in my life is probably romantic to someone and that maybe I should write a book about how eccentric I am and see who would invest in it and hopefully feel understood the way I felt when I read about all of the aforementioned characters. God how do these authors come up with such impeccable explanations for everything? Like they can read your mind but make it sound better??

"'Fragility begets beauty,' I thought. It's why ruins become art and love only begins to make sense when in peril."

Makes sense. I mean...people only come to your rescue long after you've asked for it and been a victim of the bystander effect. You don't realize how fucked up you've been until it's so close to never waking up again. Scary thought really. People really should never take shit for granted. Why wait for something to happen when opportunities could just pass you by? What's worse? Regret over not doing something or regret over doing something? Either way, the latter is something that's an essential part of life. The former is an essential part of killing it. So I'd say go with the latter.

True story.

I knew a guy who had one true love. They were together for two years or something. Then they broke up. Then one drunken night, he wanted to tell her how regretful he was for losing her--this amazingly beautiful, well-liked girl. He wanted to tell her that he loved her. He didn't.

She went on a ski trip that weekend and somehow caught a virus that killed her within three days.

He's never cried so much.

And I think she will always be his one true love.

"Love only makes sense when in peril..."

"'How do I accept such an inescapable facet of life? Misfortune.' [...] Misfortune seemed like something you can only make the best of once the rest of your wounds are scabbing and something reminds you that you are worth the rehabilitation."

Been there. Done that. But I don't remember what reminded me I was worth it. All I know was that I wanted to fight. Now I can't stop fighting, even when I shouldn't fight. Now I can't stop being angry. I guess I shouldn't have stopped going to the psychiatrist. Not that they could tell you anything that you don't already know. You just have to pay $15 for them to tell it to you so you feel better about yourself that you're hearing out of someone else's mouth other than your own.

Recuperation, apparently, isn't this overnight thing. It takes months and months and tons of energy and 360 magical pills (that I think that everyone should take) and $180 to happen.

Sigh.

"What particularly appalls Holden [Caulfield] is the eagerness of his peers to adopt that corrupt grownup behaviour."

It is these coming of age stories through which I live vicariously.

Drama has followed me everywhere I've gone, and for years I've tried to run away from it, and like a shadow, or a gray thundering cloud, it follows me even more fervently than before. I guess, it's time to say that I don't need to run away from it anymore. To run away from what makes you you, and what has identified you, whether it is through fame OR infamy, is your identity regardless.

For me to essentially try and abandon what makes me me is to, as Holden would sneer at me for, adopt an inauthentic type of adult social behavior. Everyone wants to be an adult, and everyone wants to be the bigger person, but no one can ever be that. No matter what, there are only a few people in this world who can ALWAYS be liked wherever they go. I'm not one of those people because I have a disposition to go against the grain and speak my mind and do what I feel is right even if it's wrong. I'm not saying I'm justifying whatever actions I make that are seemingly wrong to other people, nor am I making excuses for hurting others or taking them down along the way. I am in fact very apologetic if that happens and beat myself profusely for it behind closed doors. I am not saying that I have a heavy amount of pride in my head that prevents me from ever admitting my wrongness in situations, nor am I blaming others for the hurt I feel in my life.

I am merely stating that for me to do either of the things above and label it one way or another is adopting a certain corruption that everyone fails to realize exists.

The reason why Holden Caulfield is so relatable is because of the simplicity of the syntax and the informality in his tone of voice. His character comes alive because his character is ALL of us wishing we could go against the grain and rid the world of "phoneys." His informality retains the spontaneity and the authenticity that we all wish to retain in our own lives regardless of the differences of our personalities and our severe differences in opinion.

The constant use of hyperbole is reminiscent of the constant use of exaggeration we use in our daily lives to make things sound better (or worse) than they are. And this is something that we all should fear, for the power of our words is a power that we fail to take responsibility for when we need to. And that is something that I have been suspect of myself, which I take full responsibility for.

Oftentimes we like to tell ourselves that if "this didn't happen," or "that happened instead," that things would be better than they are right now. However, the fact of the matter is that the present can not live while your past is still around, and the past is something unchangeable and can not be reckoned with. THE FACT OF THE MATTER is that your past is past and it should not affect your present or your future. Right? Hm...I feel as though the past CAN affect your present because it's not so much the action, it's the feeling you feel. You could love someone from your past and continue to love them for the rest of your life regardless of their presence in your present. You could hate someone from your past and continue to hate them for the rest of your life regardless of THEIR presence in your present. It's a lot of factors...but again, inexcusable.

There are a thousand more things in this world like the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico, or the fact that 45% of the world population lives on a wage of less that $2 a day whilst these least developed countries implode under the constant increase of interest and subsequently debt that arise from asking for help--ironically...to the point where for every $1 that they receive in loans, they must pay $25 back in compound interest.

I mean, if neoliberalism was truly meant to remove government intervention in the nation's financial status, and gives people free reign to act upon their own self-interest, thus "equalizing" and closing the marginalization between industrialized and least developed countries, then you'd think that the fraction of poverty in our world wouldn't be reaching such alarming rates.

And that is the conspiracy theory I have in which nefarious bourgeoisie members seek to keep the slaves enslaved and the rich living lavishly. But this is all a conversation for another day.

What I'm getting at here, is that this "corrupt grownup behavior" and the thought-process that what one thinks trumps what another thinks leads to detrimental results for this world.

So for someone to tell me to "grow up," to them I say, "Fuck you." For it is in the act of growing up that one forgets their authenticity and their humility. And those are two virtues I can not live without.