so for my art project we had to fake a death/murder. for mine I did someone who had jumped off a building. when I was laying down while the picture was being taken, 7 people came running up to me asking if I was okay and if I needed an ambulance etc. I’ve been suicidal for a very long time, and the thoughts of jumping off buildings and ending my life have gone through my mind a thousand times. But the fact that people actually stopped and came running over to see if I was alright made me see that people do care, strangers care. so many people looked and walked past, but these 7 people some how took these suicidal feelings away… weird huh? But the moral of this story is that people do care about you, even people who don’t know who you are.
I’ve realized that I’m really not mad about what he did. I’m mad at myself for letting him come back in the first place, knowing he was not a safe person. That’s why I am haunted by what he did. Because I let it happen. I didn’t stand up for myself from the start, before he even came. I know I shouldn’t feel guilty. I know I should feel like it was all his fault, but I just can’t help it. It has been so long (coming up on 2 years), but I just don’t feel any better. I have more good days, but the bad ones feel like they haven’t improved. My failures yell and my successes whisper. The progress always feels diminished by the downfall.
I’m afraid I will fall into that sadness again. I’m afraid no one will notice again. I feel it all building inside me, but I’m too afraid to say anything.
A boy and a girl run around on the grass at the park. The boy tackles the girl. The girl laughs. She gets up and runs away. She loves to run. He chases, she turns and they grab each other, tumble and land in a pile, giggling. After a few minutes, he tackles her again and she lands a bit hard. She is bigger and physical, but he more than holds his own in roughhousing. She pauses for a second. Then she laughs again; she’s still having fun.
Dad gets his attention, and says, “If she’s not having fun, you have to stop.”
He is two. He needs to hear this now, and so does she. And again, and again, and again, so that like wearing a helmet on the bike it is ingrained.
It has for sure been a tough week. Lots of sitting in the theater, bruised knees, snacking, and of course dancing the week before finals, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love my dance friends. They are some of the most beautiful people I know.
Ahh first show is done! We have 2 more nights and that’s it! I can’t believe how fast this came. It seems like just yesterday we were starting work on the pieces. I’m so grateful for the blessing of dance in my life. I wouldn’t be where I am today without it! They say time cures everything, but so does dance! I’m in love with it.
PS. my parents know to get me cupcakes instead of flowers. They’re great.
I’ve shut down.
There’s a hole in my soul
I can’t fill it, I can’t fill it
There’s a hole in my soul
Can you fill it? Can you fill it?
You have always worn your flaws upon your sleeve
And I have always buried them deep beneath the ground
Dig them up; let’s finish what we’ve started
Dig them up, so nothing’s left untouched
—Flaws by Bastille
There’s a difference between being a role model and flaunting your past. Just because you want to be somewhat revolutionary does not mean you have to post your struggles and support everywhere. It takes confidence and strength to share your personal struggles, but there comes a point where you speak of it so much that it becomes excessive. I think if it is the only thing you can speak of, you’re letting your struggles define you.
I don’t share my problems with every person in the world because I’m not a pity story. I don’t want what I’ve experienced to define me. My struggles have helped shaped me, but there is so much more to me than the distress of my past. It is every persons choice to share what they want and how often, but this is just my personal stance.