pain

I wish I was someone’s first choice

/ astoldbyabrowngirl / Leave a comment

I always wondered why it hurt so much when my best friend started treating me differently and another girl better in standard 3. I always wondered why all the guys I ever liked repeatedly choosing someone else stung so much . Why my own parents unconsciously giving me a harder time than my sister broke my heart. Why it hit me so hard when a boy who i had drawn away from pulled me back in only to ghost me for his ex girlfriend .

Why i felt a hole in my heart when my best friend in high school repeatedly chose her boyfriend over me.

It hurt because I was never first choice . No matter what I did, no matter how nice I was or how hard I worked,! everyone I’ve ever loved have knowingly or unknowingly chosen someone else . And any time I thought I was first choice was really just a narrative I was forcing in my head . That’s all I ever wanted . And I guess it’s taken looking back to see the pattern . The missing link . That’s why I’ve been telling everyone I won’t get married . Sincerely it’s not that I don’t want to . I’ve always adored the idea . But I guess one of my biggest fears has been the realization that I truly don’t believe that anyone could choose me . Especially not forever . That’s my biggest heartbreak. The downfall of nearly all the relationships in my life always came down to a choice I often didn’t get to make. That desire to be chosen made me do a lot of stupid things . I was really trying to force things . Desperate for the satisfaction of knowing that not only was I the option but I was also the choice in the end . And in that maybe just maybe I’d feel like I was enough, for the first time in my life. Until then I don’t know how I’ll ever have even a glimmer of a chance to heal

The stages of depression

/ astoldbyabrowngirl / Leave a comment

This world gave me way more pain than I could have ever bargained for or predicted. The denial, the grief, the anger and the sadness . That’s what the last 8 years felt like . First I didn’t understand what was happening . When I finally did I couldn’t process it, I didn’t want to process it. Then I became angry at everything and everyone . In the process I hurt not only those around me but myself . In fact there’s no one I’ve hurt more than myself . The anger was the most destructive . Mostly because it is overpowering to the point that you end up wrecking more havoc then you initially intended . I lashed out until it felt like I had nothing left . Once the turbulent anger filled phase slowly came to an end , the sadness and regret kicked in. For the first time I could see the damage I had caused clearly . It was neatly packaged in scars on my thighs, forearms and wrists . In pitch dark memories and my conscious screaming , what on earth did you do . It was the silence and empty inboxes because I didn’t have anyone close to me left . It was a google history filled with pill combinations and ways to end the pain permanently. It was brutal and the rudest of awakenings . This conundrum of events insured that the sadness wasn’t shallow . It ensured that the sadness at times hit even harder than the anger . It came with tear stained pillowcases and a feeling of deadness one would have to have lived through to ever begin to imagine . It came with giving up the photography that calmed me and the writing that helped me escape to any universe I wanted to create . The sadness blocked all imaginable entrances . In the process I lost my ability to see light that wasn’t tainted with darkness