Dear Misguided Brain

11/30/18 (technically)

  No, I'm not asleep although I have to be up in close to six hours.  I'm having a minor panic attack.  It just really hit me that I gave up writing. Like, the only remaining part of me that's been around since I was younger.  The last of who I used to be, is now gone.  

  I trashed, deleted, shredded, gave away ALL  of my Works, including a book that took me nearly three years to finish and had plans on submitting for publishing.  What the f**k was I thinking?!  How come no one stopped me?  Because, I do things, destructive things, when I'm not in my right mind.  I know many of you can relate.  I  trying so hard not to cry right now, so I can get this out.

  Then I realized, I have given up everything I've loved, that's been a part of me, for some man.  I stopped singing in front of others because a boyfriend had told me it annoyed him, and gave up drawing because a boy friend had told me it was the worst thing he'd ever seen, and now writing because insecurities made a man read much more into what I wrote, not understanding the fact it was fiction (said so right in the description).

  I have become everything I never wanted to be.  Who the hell is this person?! I never gave up.  I fought for what I wanted and did whatever it took to get what I wanted.  Now, I'm pathetic, a useless burden thanks to anxiety and depression.  It took my greatest attributes of strength and self worth away and replaced them with nothingness.  I often wonder how different my life could've been had I been properly treated for anxiety, instead of ridiculed by my own parents and friends.  I became a recluse. 

  When I was younger, I promised I'd never do drugs, you know, took the D.A.R.E. Challenge very seriously.  Then, because I had shitty parents who let us light their cigarettes in our mouths and drink their margaritas at 9 years old, all of that went out the window.  I have since cleaned up my act and now it seems like I am paying the price.  I finally got some piece of me back and I had to give it up. Why?  Why can't I just have happiness, be loved, and allowed to do the things my heart treasures?  The things that made me who I am today; Things my child self would be proud of.  I will tell you why.  Because this is real life.  Not some f***ing childhood fantasy story.  

  Cinderella had always been my favorite.  She had dreams and that's all she had.  Her so called "family" took every bit of her they could, but she kept on being kind, having courage to get up every day and dream every night.  Because of those attributes, she got her hearts desire.  I, well, I can't even dream anymore.  It seems pointless when the outcome would mean disappointment.  There's  nothing left to dream about.  

  I have been stuck in my own Hell for most of my life.  I just want some part of me back before I lose myself indefinitely.  I know we grow and evolve, but we shouldn't change for the another person.  We adapting a relationship, but to ask someone to give up their entirety and the other gives up nothing, is just so damn wrong.  

  So, I ask myself, "Is it worth it?"  

  I guess we'll find out.