One Shots ❦ Camren + Others

#25: Still Learning

Lauren's POV

I should be living the dream,
But I'm living with a security team,
And that ain't gonna change, no,
I got a paranoia in me,
And you wouldn't believe,
Everything that I've seen, no
Coming apart at the seams...

Writing is therapeutic.

It's as though I always have someone there for me, even though there's never anyone.

The only thing that helps to quell the demons that have long conquered my mind and soul.

We cling to music, to poetry, to art, to writing because we are so desperate to not be alone. We want to know that we aren't crazy and that there are people out there in the world who know and who feel exactly what we're feeling and experiencing.

We want to know that we aren't the only one.

I am a paradox, in a sense. I've said that time and time again, but I really am. I want to be happy, but I think about the things that make me sad.

I don't love myself, but I am trying to.

I say I don't care, when I really do.

I'm a conflicted contraction.

If I can't figure myself out, what makes me think that anyone ever will?

I want to say that I am okay. I want to look myself in the mirror and tell myself that I'll be okay with the same type of confidence laced in my voice when — I tell my friends when they're falling apart.

I want to be able to finally feel okay.

I want to believe it myself too.

I wish that I could, but it's never that easy for me.

I wish that the words I use to help others to feel okay, would actually work on me too.

But, isn't it ironic?

We're always so gentle when we're dealing with friends, family and those that we love or who we're in love with. We're kind to their hearts, and hold it tenderly in our hands so that we don't break it further, we speak in gentle and hushed tones to show them that we care, because we really do care.

But the downside is, when it comes to us we fail ourselves. We don't show the same kind of generosity.

Somehow, we forget that we deserve the same level of effort from ourselves.

We do, don't we?

That's where I think everything all turns to shit. Because I really do want to treat myself a lot better than I do right now.

However, when it comes to me, my love seems to run out and I don't have the energy to get more and pour it into the holes and cracks within my heart and soul.

I don't blame myself, nor do I think it's my fault because the thing is, that's how we're taught to love ourselves.

In fragments.