My shitty story

if you knew what i thought of on a daily basis, you'd think i had serious mental issues, you would click that [x] and run while you still could. i put on a facade for the world. but im tearing it down, as of today. its a new year, a chance to wipe the slate clean. an opportunity to up front, to be real, to be honest. i'm choosing to start now

once apon a time, there was a girl named tegan.

she came from nothing, literally. she grew up too fast, in a world where money was everything. 'fuck your dreams, do what makes the dough'
everything she'd ever had was either broken or falling apart (and I don't only mean material posessions). she finally decided to turn the other cheek, to do whatever would make her happy. Satisfaction and fufillment are two different feelings. All she wanted was to feel complete.
But what is satisfaction? What is fufillment? The feeling that you have all you need, that you could die tomorrow and know that everything you dreamed of doing, you did.
but what if your dreams are too wide, too unreachable? ..

now?

I'm at a loss. a loss of words, a loss of knowing what to do now?
A feeling that I have no one to express my true thoughts to? That any/everyone who hears my woes finds them unwarranted, unjustified, or just plain silly?

Those who understand me are few and far, however, they aren't true to me. They take advantage of the fact that I am who I am. Too nice, too understanding, too forgiving, too blunt to care. I used to be called a bitch, because my honesty lacked compassion.
Now my compassion lacks honesty.
It's such a catch 22, because I yearn to be upfront with those I care about, but I fear misunderstanding.

This is why I turn to music, to drugs, to a feeling of complete oblivion. Because then, I don't have to worry about these things. Just feel what I'm feeling and go with it.
Spontaneity.

maybe one of these days I'll figure it out. Figure out who, where, and what I'm meant to be. In the mean time? My story will write itself.