Coming back better than before.

This is a little deviaton from what you’re used to reading from me, but me nonetheless. I am feeling as if my emotions are running rampid and I need to grab a hold on them. Maybe this will be the outlet I need.

Frustration.

I am frustrated. I am beyond frustrated. I am the epitome of frustration. I am scared. I am nervous. I am angry. I can no longer leave the house until I write. I assumed last night after the game was over I’d have plenty of time and energy to put the words on paper to accomplish my goal. But who would have foreseen that I was to come down with a migraine, and my first at that. It was like a pain I’ve never felt before. My brain was literally hurting. I could feel the muscle swelling and touching the sensitive part of the inside of my skull. I was unable to even open my eyes. Not only was the severe pain of my head killing me I was feeling sick to my stomach. I wrote those fifty words after crawling to the computer with my eyes closed. I could not even bring myself to look at the screen. After I was done I tried so hard to open my eyes and it was physically impossible. I was so exhausted from the pain I laid on the floor with no pillow no blanket. The cold tile on my warm body left me feeling with just a small amount of relief. Going back and forth from hovering over my new ceramic love and resting my head on the ice cold tile did just enough to get me going in the morning. As I finally rested my eyes and my mind I was awoke by my phone’s alarm at seven, realizing it was only half past an hour when I actually fell asleep.

I know that it is not only the lingering pain I am feeling right now but also the ever present frustration of not getting in my 350 words. I feel like shit. I feel like I let myself down. I feel as if I’ve learned a lesson to never procrastinate again. I do not know how to feel after a day like yesterday. How does one feel knowing they’ve let themselves down? A minor setback? Sure. Because you better believe I was coming back today better than ever. But the mere fact I even have to mention it makes me feel ashamed. Not many people can relate. Not those who I tend to call my friends. Because out of the handful I call friends there is only a pinch who I know is passionate about something. Most of them, if they even take the time to read my words, will see this as an over reaction. A minor setback. But to me, it is more major than most can ever imagine. I set a goal for myself to accomplish that to me is bigger than most things I’ve ever done in my life. So for them, or you for that matter, to not understand how I feel, we must not have anything in common. And I question my friendship with you in the first place. It’s so hard for me to understand how these people can just overlook something that means so much to me. Brush off what defines me as a person. But I’m sure that’s another post, most likely entitle, refining friendships, or the lack there of.

Why wait?

I’m not going to wait to call people out. Why wait when I have something like 16 hundred words to make up from yesterday. Call this a letter to my friends.

Dear Friends,

Is your day that jam packed you cannot take out the five or ten minutes it takes to read my words? (It’s funny because I’m almost positive the one’s I’m talking to won’t even read this.) My day isn’t too packed to do the little things you ask me to do. From calling you back to talk about some guy I could care less about, to meeting you for dinner at some restaurant I don’t even like eating at. I write these things for me. But, I still want someone to read them. I just hope that something I say will spark something in them to chase their dreams. I understand half the things I usually write about may have no interest at all to you. But shouldn’t your main job as a friend be to support me? When you call me with drama about some guy I don’t even think you should be talking to in the first place, I drop what I’m doing to listen to you cry on the other end. There are people that have never met me who read every single word I write. My question to you is why? Or better, what? What is it that you do that is so important you cannot support me? Sure you’ve read something here or there every once in a while, but I had to twist your arm and remind you time in and time out. Out of the thousands of words I’ve written what you’ve read is next to none. Minuscule. It’s about support. I don’t need you to support me because I can do that by myself. I just feel as if it’s your job to support me. It’s your job as my friend to no matter what it is I’m doing you support me. You love to support the bad things in life. Drinking, partying, who knows what else. But all that I ask is now that I’m doing something good, no something great, support me like you expect me to support you. During the course of writing this letter I’ve realized I have a laundry list of those who are supposed to be my friends but are failing at their job and to me the scripts the same. I could do one of two things, stop supporting you and see how you like it. Or just stop talking to you all together. Which would you prefer? I’ll be a nice enough friend and let you chose. But will you even know I’m asking if you don’t read my words?

I firmly believe opposites attract, otherwise I wouldn’t be friends with more than half of the people I am friends with now. However, I think there comes a point in your life where you stop wanting to get to know people. You know? You just want to be in a comfort zone and there is nothing wrong with that. Why spend time doing things you don’t want to do to satisfy someone who won’t do the same for you? I’m at the point now where I’m willing to give up the efforts that I am constantly putting forth for the betterment of myself. Selfish? Maybe. But I’m not here for you anymore. None of you are here for me, and I’m just now getting old enough to realize it. So when I stop answering your calls or I’m just “too busy,” know that I’m not, I just am sick and tired of you doing the same. I’m past my breaking point and I’ve used the words I’ve been begging you to read to tell you. Consider this a break up letter. Dear John.

For the friends I’m not breaking up with.

Thank you for your support. Thank you for doing everything the others are not. Thank you to those I’ve never met and to those I vow to meet over and over again. For those who give me encouraging words when I cannot find them myself and to those who know nothing about me other than what they read. I am grateful for your love, respect, and support. I am grateful to those I can call more than friends, but family. I will make a promise to you that I will be there always. I will always return the same love, respect, and support you’ve given me.

Peace And Love.
(8,689 words and counting...)