Much.

January 21, 2011.
I think it's time I start writing again. It's been an awfully long time since I've picked up a pen. (This entry comes from the journal I keep at my side.) Maybe I've been afraid of seeing what I have to say. No one really ever was a big fan of listening.
Too busy judging me to care.
Everyone is so ready to tell me can't, won't, and shouldn't. I wish they would just shut up and listen to what I can, will, and should. Just listen to me for once. I'm totally capable of being happy when people aren't trying to tell me how to do that. I am strong, well-rounded, and successful. How about everyone just leave me be for awhile. Let me decide what will make my life better.
When I write like this, I understand why my Aunt Sharon wrote too. She spent her whole life simply looking for someone who loved her just as she was. Someone who made her better than her troubled, scared self. I get it.
That's all I ask for. I want someone to learn my deepest secrets and fears and just stay. Don't run away scared because of how much of a burden I carry. I'm not asking for someone to shoulder it for me or even help me to keep it from dragging me to the ground. I just want someone to believe I can carry it until I reach a place I can just set it down and walk away from it. Just help me believe things will be okay. That's all I need. I don't like the way I make my capital T's. (I write in cursive.) I'm always testing new ways to write that I might like. I feel like my handwriting should be similar to me. I guess it does for the most part. Even those ugly T's.
There's so much more to me than I know how to verbalize. I'm always thinking. I don't know how people don't see it in my eyes. Maybe they can. Maybe that's why people think they can use me. This feels silly to say, but why can't someone see who I really am? I'm beautiful and strong. I'm a good friend. I'm quirky and full of oddities. Sometimes I talk weird. I expect a lot out of people. Maybe too much, but never more than I expect from myself. I'm scared of my future. I have a hard time crying about the things I should be able to cry about. I have a lot of stupid fears. I write a lot of blogs but I also try to keep a semi-regular journal. (Which ends up in my blogs anyway.)
I really just want to cry. I feel like I would feel so much better if I could just get the stupid tears to fall. I need a short break from being strong and patient and quietly hurting. I need a time out from rescuing everyone else. Someone out there believes in me right? They think I can succeed don't they? They don't think I'm a failure from the start right? That no matter what I do, I'll always be a loser. I'm not a loser am I? I think there is just too much of me for anyone to figure out right now.