Soltaire
I'm a 18 year old girl with a grown soul but still getting my eyes pried open by wisdom and my head bashed by lessons. I love my life.
Either lose your sanity or lose your heart’s desire. Hmmm, tough choice.
I always knew the split from having my cake and eating it too would end eventually…the time has come.
I’m used to it, I get and eat my cake. But I knew I was on a gold streak and the rest of my life wouldn’t sustain that fortune. I took it for granted—but maybe I didn’t. Maybe I had that power so I can go through the things I went through to teach me. Whatever it was, it’s seemed to turn in it’s 2 weeks. Rock bottom as far as I’ve ever experience? No, not quite but it sure feels like it. Yes, I’m thankful that I have two wonderful bests; Stacey and Sara—one I talk to everyday and the other not so much because she’s too busy with whatever white people do—a new two bedroom apartment, currency; whenever it wants to come, and most importantly, a place to sleep and food to eat. Even knowing this, I find myself being ungrateful for what I have because my current situation with all the extra curriculum activity: work, Lisa, Nam, money bumps, Jo, HQ, disagreements. But it’s been happening WAY too often and too close of a duration from each other. I’m 19, on my own with absolutely no family help nor support, work for my own money—where’s the credit? But my brother has always told me, “Stop feeling sorry for yourself.” And he’s right.
I like to think that I can handle a lot and deal with a lot and handle business like I graduated with a Masters in Business but damn, I find myself breaking…and more and more at that. What if I’m actually really weak and my stress level is nothing compared to other’s. What if I’m not the independent young woman that I think that I am. I’m tired and exhausted…and all the time. To top it off, I get super Unmotivated or even ridiculously lethargic when Nam gets on my case about something and we fight or when things aren’t happening my way. Then I start to just disassemble and break down and complain and cry about every little thing. Weak.
I want things to get better because, honest, I’ve never felt this much dose of melancholy and sloth and rage and pessimism. And this isn’t me, I’m scared to lose the only thing I know.
