Rant's of a Mormon High-schooler

The idea of Her

Sometimes I get lost in my mind. An endless expanse, that is so disorganized and messy. I would have to say that my biggest problem is the empty void I feel when I think of her.

Her being metaphorical, I haven't actually a clue who 'her' is. But I know she's out there, waiting for me to do something. This is a rant on that empty feeling, and my inability to fill it. Well, here goes nothing.

It's so lonely here, which makes me so emotional. I can't decide wether I'm broken, this feeling inside me can't possibly be changed. That I can't be fixed. Every time I think I've found her, the smallest thing can wreck my already minuscule amount of confidence. Wether it's a passing comment from a friend that likely meant nothing to them, but meant everything to me.

But I also feel excitement at the possibility of the future. And sadness of possible pasts. I would say that is my greatest flaw. That I live in the past too much, and I'm not impulsive enough. I have a fictional grasp on what I want to be, and I know that fictional me is an impossible dream. But it's a dream nonetheless, an improbable path. Yet,  a possible future. A hopeful improbable path of a future. And now I'm just tripping over words. Yet all these words I still feel a sense of pride. these above average jumble of words.

But it's silly to think that I'd ever actually be an author. I'm simply too all over the place for such an organized medium. Yet I still can't quench this need to find someone to care about, some one to hold while I feel like the world is turning on me again. So here I am again, taking notes on my mind. A mind so muddled and filled with a false sense of pride. And yet I know that to truly love another, you need to love yourself. And that scares me, because I don't believe I could ever actually love myself.

I make decisions that quite frankly irk me beyond belief. And my self deprecation doesn't seem to have any boundaries. And yet I search for approval from whom I know don't care about me, and shun those who do truly care for me. I get over that constant feeling of sadness, of anger towards myself for the things I do. And I wish I had someone I could truly open up to, and someone who can open me and look at all my ticking pieces and see what part is broken and fix it with the flick of her wrist. And yet I know such a thing can't happen now, or in the near future even. And it hurts.

Thank you for enduring my rambles through the years, this may be my last one writing in this story. Don't worry though- it's simply due to the fact that it's so old. I'll give it a proper end eventually, but I'll keep it open for now. Just like the  doctor, I don't care too much for endings. And I'll leave it at that for now. Love yous~