Tanline from ankle bracelet.

Total happiness.

It's not only you you're looking at now.
I'm better now. Not like yesterday. It was nice though, letting a moment stand on its own where I allowed myself to truly feel sadness without trying to lock it up. Too seldom do I find myself really experiencing my emotions in their purest forms. Letting myself surrender to the complete misery I was feeling was good because it only lasted a few minutes before I resurfaced and could look at my situation in a different light. If I never indulge my feelings and let them control me, one at a time, and lock them up instead, they turn on me and consume me completely.

I think I just realized something that might just be pivotal in my mental development. I don't think that people necessarily aren't good enough for one another, that one person is on a higher level than the other, or that they aren't worth the struggle, time or effort. Maybe instead it's that their pieces, the edges that they're looking to heal with the help of someone else, aren't congruent to the other person's edges. Maybe it's a matter of fitting. So maybe, it's not that I wasn't good enough. Maybe we just didn't fit. And losing time and effort trying to figure out why I wasn't good enough is a waste of time because that's not even the issue at hand. It's that my pieces didn't match theirs. Which would essentially be good, because you can't force things together that don't fit, because the pieces will eventually break. My trying has led to myself breaking.

Holy shit. Epiphany attained.

It's a difficult thing, being enamored with the person that I know you are, the person you haven't let many others see. It's even more difficult letting go of the hope that you'll finally be him all the time, because that's really what's holding me back. The sick part of it all is that I'm the same as you. I wish I were strong enough to be the person I know I want to be. The person who will make me happy all the time. But I'm too afraid to be the strong girl. Because the being the strong girl means I have to finally leave you, and the weak one behind.

(no subject)
Is it ridiculous that I'm crying because I miss my english teacher?

Let me tell you something about Janine Rossi. Maybe not everyone liked her. Maybe not everyone agreed that she was a great teacher like I did. But fuck me if that woman didn't teach me something nobody EVER taught me about myself. She sees things in me that I can't yet, and I'll be damned before I let her down. I'm going to be that person that she knows I am. I just miss having someone there to shoot me a look every day letting me know how proud of me they are. I miss seeing her smile while she reads over my work, knowing that I made someone happy just by being myself, and not changing a single thing. I miss her telling me that everything is going to be alright. This might sound bad, but she was the best pseudo-mother I could ever EVER ask for. She made me feel like I was loved. Unconditionally. Like there was nothing to change, nothing to second guess. I've never gotten that close to someone and then had them ripped out from under me. I think the reason why I miss her so much is because she became a part of my support system. She was the first one I had to say goodbye to. GOD DAMN. I'm still crying.

The last day of school, I was a fucking wreck. And the thing is, I realized the reason why I was crying so damn much just a minute ago. I love her. I love Mrs. Rossi. And when she looked at me with that face, like she knew what I was thinking, and handed me my yearbook, I couldn't help it. I burst into tears because....because I was afraid. I was afraid because I knew what walking out of that room meant. It meant that the end was here, that I wouldn't be able to walk into her room and sit down, swivel around in my chair and look over at her and say "This is completely ridiculous." and have her smile, shake her head and sweep her arm across the desk, silently telling me to elaborate. I've never had a relationship with an adult like I did with her. She made me feel understood, like she was never dropping down to my level. We were always on the same playing field. And she respected me.

All I have left to say is thank you. For the experience, for the advice, for the huge smiles and laughs when I said something completely ridiculous. Thank you for showing me why I'm worth everything I want. And in response to what you said when I was crying on that last day of school, I love you, too.

Turning my head out
I've experienced nothing and those pictures make me incredibly sad.

How long must you pay for it?
I have a few things to say, and most of them aren't that great. I suppose that I should, however, start with the best one and go down from there, so as not to have a shitty last ditch effort at a happy ending. My life isn't a happy ending.

First off, I'm having a great summer. It's been gloriously relaxing and I feel like I haven't spent this much quality time with the ladies that I love so much in a LONG time.

Now, for the shitshow that I'm not happy with. I've finally hit rock bottom. And as contradictory as that sounds, knowing that I'm having such a great summer, you should also know this about me: I'm fantastically talented (in my own opinion, anyway) with compartmentalizing. I'm happy on the outside, yes. And somewhere, on the inside, I'm happy too, but the second I don't have to try to be happy, I'm angry. I'm angry about a bunch of different things, but all of them are directly related to myself and how I literally cannot find a single reason that's cause enough to move me forward to fix the things that I hate about myself. The things that are making me miserable.

Some of the things that make me so incredibly irritated are deeply rooted in the way I orient myself to other people. I constantly put other people first, and I don't mean think of them before myself. I think of them, and how I should best change myself to fit their needs or what they'd think would be the best version of myself. I don't ever act on it though, but the thought process always starts as soon as I see someone new. And the fucked up yet predictable condition on this particular quirk of mine is that the person has to be a man.

It annoys me that my entire life, I've mentally and verbally fought against all of the ideas and norms that other girls and women accept that make them subservient to men. It's even gone as far as me not wanting children, because I don't want to be in the place that I've seen so many others: struggling, stressed, frustrated, angry, with relationships laying in tattered pieces at their feet. I don't want to be that woman who had to quit her job to take care of the kids because I don't want to be the woman without a story to tell. Without a concept of what life is, teeming outside of the harsh realities and lines of suburbia and the common "white picket fence" ideal that everyone seems to want once they hit a certain age. I want the freedom to go where I want, say what I want, feel what I want without feeling as if I can't because I'm responsible to cultivate the life of someone new when I've barely had the chance to live, myself.

Yet here I sit, trying to scrap together the wants and needs of the guy I've never seen before, across the room. And why? Because I've never been taught that I, in myself, am acceptable enough. I've always been taught to pick on the imperfections, because if one doesn't do that on their own, they're bound to be caught up in the remnants of those who already did, and passed negative judgment. My mother taught me that the so called packaging a person came in was more important than the soul that resides inside that body itself. And so, since I was old enough to understand what a kiss was, I've been internally rewiring myself to meet the needs and desires of men around me, on the outside being far too self deprecating, too distraught to really do anything about it.

And here I thought I was going to be able to actually talk about one or two things briefly. Silly me.

(no subject)
Why hello. I've graduated high school. And on this momentous occasion, I, Michelle Beiter, felt....nothing. Is that odd? I wasn't sad, excited, nervous or anything. I just was. And the peace that flooded my being in that moment was very momentous in itself, because for a moment, through all the madness that's been swirling my brain lately, I felt nothing and thought of nothing. It was a moment of sheer clarity when I didn't think I'd be able to do anything but think. It just goes to show me that I can't go looking for peace. I have to wait for it to come to me.

And so, in regards to the shitstorm that's been hovering over me since prom weekend, I'm letting go. I'm accepting the fact that I can't control everything. I'm releasing the whole concept of control, and that if I try to control things I'll never be hurt because I'll always be ready. I've had a deathgrip on my life for the past month, analyzing, thinking, sitting, waiting (wishing? Jack Johnson anyone? Didn't think so.) for things to change. Waiting for everything to fix itself by keeping the variables in line. Obviously, as I said to Petra today, life isn't predictable, it isn't comfortable, and it most definitely doesn't wait for you to be ready for anything. Life goes on, whether you can handle what's coming or not. And I can't sit here anymore, preventing growth because I'm too busy trying to stop things from changing. This kind of change is just one that's a test of friendship.

I'm going to take the time to stop thinking so much, and actually start to enjoy the fact that things will go right without me trying to make them right.

(no subject)
You know how to deal with everyone but me
and that is more than a little disconcerting
considering the fact that everyone you meet
is jilted by your attitude.

Sometimes, I wish I was the wind. Hearing all, seeing all, touching all, feeling nothing, and stopping for no one.

Don't say a word
If you had the opportunity to know everything about the person you love, would you take it? Or would you avoid the possibility of getting hurt?

It doesn't matter. Because if I knew nothing, or knew everything, I'd still feel something, and I'd much rather feel nothing at all. I wish I could go back in time and pinpoint the second that wrinkled every other moment, pressing it permanently with the creases of your presence. I wish I could scream at myself, at that stupid fourteen year old that wanted nothing more than to be someone to count on, to confide in, to rely on when all other sources of support had been crushed under pressure they couldn't support. I want to scream at that girl until I'm blue in the face that she can use all the passion and devotion to that friendship that she can summon from each square inch of her bones, but not one single ounce of sinew and skin could aid in the capture of the one thing she thought she needed. Everything I know is wrong, and everything I don't know is even worse.

(no subject)
I really hope I never forget how much I love Zack.

I promise I won't.


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