Time.

Time. It’s a funny little thing. It’s a small and silly little word, yet it holds so much power over our heads. Well, at least over my head. But then again, I’m crazy. But anyway, time. Time moves and flows and switches and travels in this weird little path. As time goes on, things change. People get older. Friends and family members come and go in and out of our lives. Everything that happens, happens over the course of time. And as time moves, we realize that the people may or may not be the same. We could still like the same music, still talk to the same people, and still carry the same opinions. But ultimately, if you were to look back and analyze the person that you started out as from point A to where you are now, you’d see differences in your being. This isn’t surprising, but it is something to think about.

For me, it’s hard to accept change. It gets difficult to even stomach the idea of change. I like things to be stationary, and I don’t like accepting the very real truth that as a person I am constantly changing. For as long as I can remember, I have tried to manipulate my perception of reality to fit into this perfect little bubble that I created and conditioned for myself. In it, I see myself as the same quirky, loveable, fun girl that I’ve worked so hard to mold myself into over the years. But now, because of time moving forward and my awareness of it becomes more heightened, the bubble is beginning to slowly evaporate and my true self is beginning to appear. The happiness that I used to disguise my constant pain and fucked up mind and sadness has begun to wear thin. My real self has begun to emerge, and I’ve started to acknowledge the fact that I am not perfect, I am not who I thought I was, and that I am and in some way always have been living a lie.

This journey that I’ve taken to discover myself has cost me a lot of things. I’ve lost a friend…a friend I didn’t want to lose…a friend I feared might leave me, despite their efforts to tell me otherwise. But in the end, they did leave. And despite that friend telling me that “things just don’t work out” and that “it wasn’t anybody’s fault”, I know that it was ultimately my own fault, and that I, because of my inability to accept and love myself, caused the deterioration of what could’ve been an ultimately rewarding and loving relationship. I’ve lost family members who I thought would always believe and trust and love me, but in the end they gave up as well. But one of the most important and prominent things I’ve lost however, was myself. The perfect reflection and façade I struggled to cling onto no matter what the cost was gone, and the illusion was shattered. I was no longer some sassy and strong independent girl with a sharp tongue. I was no longer a princess living on a pain-free pedestal. I no longer carried strength on my shoulders, and I no longer was void of fear, sadness, or emotional distress. From my perspective, I was long gone.

But despite this complete and utter lost image of myself…looking back on it now…I realize it was ultimately one of the best things to ever happen to me. Once I lost that friend, my family, and the idea of “myself”, I began to feel the need to change. I began to strive for living a better life. I realized that if I was ever going to end up being loved and being able to love, I first needed to discover who I was as a person, and not what self-made shadow I had cast upon myself to live under was. And honestly, I’m not done yet. But I can successfully say that I’m a hell of a lot better than I was. I’m finally beginning to acknowledge that while I’ve had a fucked up life, I am still a person who is worthy of love, and I’ve still worked hard throughout my life. And through this journey, I’m finally beginning to actually BE the girl I always used to pretend I was. I’m finally transforming, and not just covering anymore.

And I couldn’t be happier. Despite the pain of losing someone dear to my heart, and having to fight through tough battles on my own, and having to start from scratch in order to feel happy, I am okay with it. I’m not where I want to be yet, but I’m definitely in a place that’s a hell of a lot better than where I was.

The preceding was written a while ago. I recently just stumbled across this document on my laptop, actually. And now after having read through it, I’m going to reflect a little bit.

Where am I now? Well that friend of mine still is gone, and probably won’t be returning anytime soon. Oh well. He helped me realize that I need to be strong and happy in my life without him, so I thank him for that. I owe him a lot, but if he really wants to receive it from me. I will always care for him, and I know he cares for me…but our friendship wasn’t meant to survive, I guess. My family members have started to embrace this positive change in me. They’re happy that I’m happy, which makes home life a bit easier to deal with.

I do believe I am a strong independent young woman. I have fears and doubts about some things in life…a lot of things, actually. I feel all emotions, as I should. I am worthy of love. I am a great person. And while I may not always be happy, I understand that that is okay.

I am okay.

A Blog? Let's see how this goes...

Ohhhh, I've been here before. Sitting on my bed, Ben Folds playing on my iTunes, thinking about holding things in but then realizing that spreading my words to the entire world is muuuuch healthier...right? My glasses fall slightly forward on my angular Jewish nose (inherited thanks to my mother) and every once in a while I find myself gently pushing them back up either at the corner of the frame or right to the bridge of nose. I’m contemplating eating or urinating, but my bed is too warm and I’m getting too into this whole idea of writing, so I stay. And every once in a while, my mind tends to divagate in a different direction, but is then redirected once again to the laptop where my thoughts become mere text on a screen.

Wait, what was I talking about?

Oh yes. I was talking about…talking. Well, typing. I think. I was talking about—well, I was getting to—this whole idea of blogging, or keeping some document of my thoughts. I don’t really know why, but for some reason it is unbelievably rare for me to be able to commit to something as simple as that. It’s not that it’s difficult or anything…I just, forget. I wander away and get distracted and eventually forget all about it. And then at some point, I stumble across my writings and then I reminisce. I try to start over, but either I lack the motivation or the vicious cycle starts all over again.

So…what am I supposed to do now?

I guess I could talk about anything, really…I mean, that’s what blogging is about, right? Expressing your thoughts? But I don’t know what to say…

I had cereal for breakfast today. Which was a nice little change, since I usually have a muffin instead. I don’t really think about caloric intake or my weight very often. I just think about weather or not I can squeeze my ass into my jeans one morning. If not, then I go for the ever popular and sometimes life saving yet hideous excuse for clothing: leggings.

Being presentable is very important to me. Unfortunately, I do have a habit of sometimes judging one on how they appear. This is one of those qualities I do not like about myself, because I have been in a situation of being judged for how I look. But it’s not exactly about attractiveness or size or clothing or make-up: it’s about the way one carries him or herself.

I’m a people reader/watcher. I can’t even begin to tell you how many times I’ve gone to public settings just to observe and analyze people based on their walk or posture or facial expression. I learned how to read palms from an old friend’s mother. She was eccentric, and we didn’t really keep in touch after I moved away from the city, but I liked her a lot. She was accepting of me, and I accepted her.

I analyze people based on the way they walk, mostly. I have a variety of friends whom I tend to observe as “those with purpose or pride.” These are the ones who walk tall, straight, head up and chin out. These are the ones who walk as if they have a place to go, and they know how to get there. I have the friends who walk with a bounce in their step, expressing exuberance and life. They may not know where they’re going or walk with purpose, but when they walk towards me, I’m inspired to smile or wave. And then I have the friends who walk hunched and with little determination. They walk as if they’re struggling, or maybe hiding something? But I want to know what that something is. I want to see where they would go if told to go wander. But I never know.

How do I see myself when it comes to my walk? Well, I have this fear. I’m not sure if it’s irrational or not, but it’s definitely something that bothers me. And that fear is that there are people just like me out there—the over-thinkers, the people readers, and the walk-watchers—who are keeping record of me at all times. Paranoia? Absolutely. More like mental disorder if you ask me.

This fear has caused me carry myself in a way where I try to walk with purpose and strength. But often, I’ll catch myself forgetting and in the heat of the moment, I walk the way I usually do…the only problem is, I don’t know what that is.

But maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe it’s better to not suppress little things about myself, even if they’re as simple as the way I walk. Maybe it’s meant to be…or something…

But I don’t really know.