I’m not a materialistic type.  Although, I do have
possessions I’d love to hang on to.  But I have done without any homely
objects, even recently, and can in the future.  I honestly do miss some
simple objects, but mainly for their sentimental value. 

But besides the point of defense, I was noticing the power of positivity right
now.

The last few weeks, I had been feeling very negative.  I honestly felt
that I wanted to mutilate myself again, and that was burning in me
strongly.  I was feeling lots of self hate, guilt, hurt and anger.  That
was the first time in a little over a year that I had dealt with any negative
emotion that strong.  Strong enough for me to literally feel the tension
of fury in the veins of my arms, pulling me to do something cruel.  If it sounds intense and dramatic, it is because it was.

I was sitting here now, recovered from my bought, just simply looking at my
engagement ring.  The positive perspective I now hold, in comparison to
the weeks before, makes this ring look so big and full of sparkle. 
I remember it looking so dim and small to me when I was “in my head“
and down.

Seeing that small comparison now enforces my beliefs of keeping a positive
perspective.  There is a noticeable difference.  It makes me laugh to
see, because it’s all so simple if you do see.

I have been home for a little over a week.My time away turned into a good experience. All I had to do was keep my eyes opened wide, and hear beyond the meaning of words. Being open to life, to this presently unexplainable travel, is the most humorous and happy way to live.

Much of my thinking made me feel distanced, but it was full of revelations. I am still amazed by how blind I once was, and how long it’s taken me to see. All this time I’ve been jaded to who I am, and how others live.

Reality can get harsher as you age, and it becomes harder to adapt your childlikeness.

In all my youthful years, I spoke my truth quite loudly. Authority never kept me quiet, unless I was personally connected to them. When the matters of argument were pertaining to me, however, I hadn’t a back bone to bear.

Compliments lead me outside of myself, to a point of observation, incapable of taking in the experience as my own. While negative remarks make me introspective, drowning out my truth and complicating what’s simply known.

So, my mind adhered to the remarks that tore down my strength: my speech. My ability to communicate has always been beyond my years; without much effort. It was taken as arrogance, and from then on my social gift was also a social disadvantage.

This particular entry has taken a span of over six hours to write. I’m so fearful of coming across arrogant, rude, bitchy, or whatever “wrong” way there is. When I do sit down to write, I also sit down to criticize myself. I analyze every word, from every angle.

We pick petals off of flowers to determine our truth, “Does he love me? Does he love me, not?” After all those petals are gone, you have your truth by default.

I have picked at every thought that’s sprouted from my brain. Picked at it until there’s nothing more, except someone else’s interpretation.

I wanted this, but I didn’t realize how much it’d cost me. When my Mother fell into her own mind, and was unable to hear anything except that, I promised myself I’d be open to everyone’s perception of me. If there was a chance I’d go crazy, just as she did, I wanted to hear the voices of my loved ones, not the darkness in my head.

Sadly, I decided to be open to the world at a time when everyone in it was pushing me away. I took all of that in, and now my perception of me is nothing more than negative.

I chose to be open too soon. But I want to fix what went wrong now, before it is too late. It will take me writing word-for-word, what I know. The best technique I ever had for retaining information was to write it out and read it. That’s when I really see myself, and when I’m in awe of who I am in the best way possible.

I was away for so long, because I was finding myself and the last thing I needed was a conflict. I needed to know who I was and what I wanted to take from this world, without anyones input. Now, I have to stand up for what I have chosen, and who I am. I have to realize that an opinion, is an opinion and not always valid.

Extremes never work. My Mother lived too much in her own mind, and I’m living too much in everyone-elses. At the end of the day, my brain doesn’t have much to say these days. Silence isn’t very comforting.