Whoops?

Disclaimer: I was in my feels. I’ve been in my feels. I’m purging my feels. This is life, this is relationships, this is me getting it off my chest. How could I write it? CUZ I NEEDS TA LETITGO!

The day that the rulers of the universe/book of life/Creator decided to hand out manuals on how to be a good future adult, I was MIA. I was probably still getting my cells together, overslept, and sort of had to play it by ear. The year that they were handing out manuals on how to be a good girlfriend or whatever was probably the year I decided to devote myself to endless hours of Whoa, Nelly! on repeat, while playing The Sims for hours and hours. So forgive me–I am not a good woman, I am not a good adult, and I am the shittiest girlfriend/lay/lady you will ever meet.

I will not get it right, yet I am offended that people/a person thinks I needed to be molded. Why? To be less of myself? To be good enough for you? Also, I missed out on the seminar about overthinking. So I guess I’ve got that going for me too. I fight to get it right. I try not to say stupid things. I work to erase awkward silences, and I am much more considerate and thoughtful than one would like to believe. I have a lot of love to give, but sure, let’s focus on how odd I am, how sensitive I am, and well….how wrong I am. Always wrong, always with shaky logic, and heaven forbid I post a piece of the long-desired happiness I’ve always wanted on social media. My actions are not always the best, and sometimes my inaction stems from anxiety–not because I don’t care. I CARE.

I am a mess.

I can’t pick myself up fast enough, I can’t get over it soon enough, and my poofy hair (that I can only control so much) will never get me a job.

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Well damn, son. Why am I even here? Why did my mom lay on a table and birth my big ass if I’m such an awful fuck up?

Look, I spent a lot of my early 20s hating myself. And my mid 20s, and my late 20s. I have hated myself for a long time, and this ebb and flow of acceptance still is not easy. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to let other people–who, hello, barely fucking know me–tell ME who I am. Or tell ME how I need to be shaped to fit THEIR image. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let other people who’ve got their own skeletons of self-worth and character adjustment tell ME who I am with negatives, then pop off when I say what is and what is not.

LOOK.

I HAVE KNOWN MYSELF FOR 31 YEARS AND 6 MONTHS. Aside from my mother, my father, grandmothers, aunts, and a host of friends from school and online–you gotta take more classes on who I am, before you try and TELL me anything about myself. Keep learning and keep your thoughts to yourself. Unless you’re a psych major, you are honestly pushing me away from you. It’s not helping the cause, and I refuse to be in that dark place where I’m hating myself through the eyes and thoughts of people whom I’ve given far too much power to.

I get it–my jovial nature and my strong emotions can be too much. it gives the idea that I need a lot of help–but not the thoughtful kind. More like the kind where I ain’t got nothin’ but broken wings and a twisted beak. More like baby needs her bottle, but she can’t move to get it yet. But for frack’s sake, take stock and account of your own confusion and surprise. Take stock of your own shitty opinions about me. Is it that you can’t stand who I am, or is it that you can’t stand your damn self, and how you’ve let some of the same shit that has gotten me down get YOU down? Nobody has their life totally figured out. And if they say they do, they’re either super duper perfect, or they’re lying and winging it like the rest of us.

I’m sick of feeling dejected and pushed away. Trying to fix it and failing. Having it be one-sided like this is all my fault, and the other person needs to just sit there while I appease their fucking fickle whims. I’m sick of feeling inferior and idiotic, and having that torn apart when I express frustration. YOU. ARE. DOING. THIS. TO ME.

I did not sign up for this life to have constant judgment thrown upon me. Yes, it’s a part of life and we all face it, but holy shit–from the people whom I’ve trusted with the softest parts of me? From the people who seem to find constant fault with everyone else but themselves? Sometimes they don’t listen, sometimes they don’t consider. You’ll never catch me saying I’m perfect in any of this, but come on–it takes two. It’s different outside than it is in your head. Take that into consideration.

I have been aching to get this off of my chest. Deleting and cancelling posts, cowering back and then realizing–NO–I need to defend myself. I need to speak my piece. I need to stand up for myself and tell it right the hell as it is. And YES–I’m angry. I’m tired. I want to love with all my heart, but I’m not a freakin’ doormat. I try so hard not to let anger rule me, but this whole talking to me like an idiot and treating me like a child thing has gotten way out of hand. These feelings either need to be resolved, or chapters need to be closed.

I signed up to give love, not be judged. To help, to make folks feel secure. I seem to be failing at that, no matter what I do.

I signed up for a partnership, not a competition. Believe me–I’m just trying to live.

I signed up for a spiritual journey, not a toxic discovery. I’m working through my own crap, concerned about your crap, and let’s face it–the last face to face relationship I had was in 2007. (With occasional visits until about 2010-ish but shut up shut up)

I felt changes coming but ohhh that’s just in my head. BS. But it’s on me to fix it. Helllooooo you difficult ass person–been trying to do that. It’s not like folks are opening up and making that possible.

I cannot fix everything. I cannot atone for the sins of others. I can communicate, but not in abrasive or judgmental tones. I’m sick of that. I can only be myself–that is something you either like, or something you cannot get with.

THAT IS ALL OF ME.

If I have to sit there and navigate and understand and go tit for tat to understand and adore you, why can’t I have the same? I have it in me to bring up a lot of screwed up stuff, but that goes nowhere.

Stop judging me every single second, then expecting me to keep a smile on my face when you crush my spirit and hurt my feelings.

You will lose me.

You will lose me.

And maybe I’m just not good enough to be in your world. Maybe I’m not what you thought I was, and you can’t let go because you’re afraid of the world. All I know is that there is more negativity than niceness, and the things you think you’re saying are not being said. The things that you think are honesty are pure vitrol. (keep saying this, am not getting heard. Yet I don’t listen. sheesh.)

The actions of a month and some change ago are in the past. They were great/awesome/thoughtful but stop putting emphasis on them. You have more to offer. Look ahead. I’m looking at the present and the future. I’m NOT asking for the moon. I’m not asking for someone to mold themselves as I wish.

I’m asking for consideration.

Thought.

Sensitivity.

Connection.

Healing.

The same time and patience you want. But holy CRAP. Show me something. The vigor is gone. I am not forcing anyone to have it. You either have it or let it go.

I’m not at Burger King. I’m in a fucking imperfect situation and I want it to be better before just cutting the wire. I’m still growing, still changing. I will choose my path. ME. VERONICA. I am not perfect but you gotta be blind as shit not to know how much love, care, and concern is within me.

And that’s ableist, so let’s just say you’re oblivious. YOU ARE OBLIVIOUS. WAAAAAKE UUUP.

But that’s just a theory. Perhaps what I wish to have reciprocated is asking for toooo much.

*Cue the Game Theorist YT Channel music*

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