The Lies We Live

an absolute mess

Tell me what it is like to be loved and still alone. I think maybe I am the worst kind of lover. The kind that leads you on for days on end because she's too afraid to say no. Too afraid because she saw flashing lights a mile away. 

When he asked you about the boys you hang out with, or who you danced with at prom. Tell me, is that the good or bad kind of jealousy? When you tell him that it's not official yet, you want to see if this is it for you. 

Talking to pass the time. Looking for self confidence in empty compliments, I've stopped eating because my thoughts fill my entire body. I think this isn't good for me. But I'm lonely and it's hard to find belonging when you know that you will lose this place and these people just like you did high school. 

Maybe my grades should matter more than all of this, but I don't see how my GPA will complete me. These guys are asking me why I'm 17 and wanting to get married. Well I guess the answer is pathetic. I'm falling behind and this is the only way I can catch up.

All my friends went to become engineers and doctors, as I sit in economics class asking myself how on earth I got here. I'm strong, but some storms have never been beat. They will do this world well, and I will take profit off of it. 

Business people are happy, but I think it's all a guise. I mean, we drink more than any other faculty. Maybe it is how we deal with the grief of just barely being enough. I handed my project in just last week, as my friend kept silent about the ethics sheet.

I got my first F in university, and I can't help but resent her for not reminding me. The assignment was worth a percent, so tell me why something so small is able to cut so deeply. 

There is no short cut to happiness. And my friends tell me I'm worth more than the guys I talk to. They think these guys have a thing for young girls like me, and I hope they're wrong because I'm afraid as it is. 

Getting attached is nauseating. When class is over and weekend arrives, I feel myself fall apart into pieces I can no longer hold together anymore. I think I feel obligated to be nice to the boys who are nice to me. This isn't love; this is work. 

I can't explain it to my friends. That my career means nothing to me. I'm not passionate about the social context of business; I don't want to be a civil servant. Sometimes I am truly happy until I remember how misplaced I am in the universe. 

I think maybe I should've gone into astrophysics. Started a new life with a new direction. I should've been the girl that looked up at the stars and had that thirst to know more. But I killed her. I'm an assassin, and I cut out my own heart out. 

They used to tell us to fear the monsters under our beds, but should we not fear the monsters we have become? I'm only teasing the thought of where it can go with him. I'm not attracted physically, so shouldn't I leave? He's insanely sweet with me, and I'm flattered by this. 

But what a way to let them down. You're not good enough for me, bye. I feel obligated to at least try. I wasn't lying when I said I like talking to him. I do. Or at least I think so. It's too hard to tell where the loneliness ends, and the relief of conversation starts.  

I should be studying, or doing homework. But I can't help but feel unfocused. Uncentered. Maybe it's the effect of the pot brownie from  last week. Or the fact that my older friends have found the men they are going to marry, and I want to be like them. I want to be happy. I have no idea. 

I know that I should know better. There is no human who will complete me like myself. But I'm depressed and it takes too long to make meaningful relationships. I know patience is a virtue I need, but have yet to acquire. 

I know I have to love myself before I can love anyone else. And I know that is always the hardest part.