It never stops

Feelings

I read this book. It's called Eleanor & Park. And it's basically my life. slightly altered, and put in a book. Eleanor is me. An outcast. The new girl. The wierd girl. With uncontrollable hair. With wierd clothes. With a mother who fakes happiness. With a stepdad who has ruined everything. But, Eleanor, she had a boy. I have a boy, too. One who I love with as great a passion as Eleanor loved Park. But more often than not I feel my boy doesn't love me as Park loved Eleanor. Like he doesn't miss me when we can't talk, or don't talk. He probably does. God, I hope he does. But I just can't imagine anyone like him feeling that way about me. He's not a wierd outcast like I am. He doesn't have a selected number of people who find him attractive, not like I do. Everyone likes him. Every girl thinks he's just the best thing. And he is, of course. Which is why I find it hard to feel like he could feel about me how Park feels about Eleanor. Park like Eleanor how she is. He likes how she doesn't dress like a girl. And how she wears a tie around her wrist, or in her pony tail. Park likes how Eleanor is. Park likes Eleanor besides her secrets that she wont tell, besides how others make fun of her, besides how she comes from such a broken place. 

I think the broken place thing gets to me the most. Everyones got something broken about them. But not everyone can find someone who doesn't mind the broken, someone who is willing to pick up the broken and put it back together. I have someone. But sometimes that someone isn't very good at picking up the pieces because he doesn't know how. Because I'm so broken he's afraid to break me more. But that's impossible. I'm too broken, already. But I need my pieces put back together so desperately. I'm trying myself. And I know he's trying, too. But sometimes, frequently actually, it's not enough. It's going to take a lot to put this together, and It won't happen till I'm away from the broken place forever. Till the one who turned the shards of glass that can be fixed into dust, something you can't put together, is gone. Once he's gone it'll be easier. But that won't be for a while..

I know that one of you reading this is judging me. You know who you are just as much as I do. And yes, I do come from a very broken place. I am a broken person. But just because I've had enough and I cuss and say fuck and do things that you don't approve of doesn't mean I'll be like my parents. I won't. I will be a better person. I will have a husband that loves me. I will have kids that won't ever be put in danger. I will not be like my parents. But you know what.? You won't either. You won't be like your parents. Your parents are nice people who don't judge. Unlike you.! You judge everone and everything. Even if you do know their story. You still judge. Even if they put their trust in you. You will still go behind their back and talk bad about them to their boyfriend, or anybody. I will be a better person than my parents. And a better person than you. I just hope that your life goes in a good direction. Cause darlin', that pretty face isn't going to do any good when it comes to the real world and being a real person. 

I know that this chapter is wish-washy. It doesn't focus on just one thing, really. And I'm sorry. This story isn't really a story. It's more like a diary-ish thing for everyone to read. And if you don't like reading my story and feel like I'm an attention seeker for putting this stuff out for all to read, then sorry not sorry. I don't care what any of you think. This is more for my benifit, than any of yours. So fuck off.