I wish I had the courage, or really the motivation, to tell people how I truly feel. I feel like I’m always lying to people when I don’t tell them the truth. Hey, that was a truth, wasn’t it? Everyone does it. It’s in our nature to lie and protect ourselves. Not necessarily in a psychological way, but that’s where it’s lead us. “What’s the point?” has become a very popular phrase in my world. “They’re just going to hurt me.” Ever had that thought? I know many people who have. But trusting people doesn’t always have to do with why I don’t always tell the truth. It’s not even about how the other person might feel if I do. For me it’s always been more about people either reading too much into it, not believing me, or me not trusting my own opinion. Or not being brave enough. If I knew that it would truly make a difference, then I know I could find the courage to tell my cousin how amazing I think she is. She’s always been a good person to look to when I don’t think I can make things right, or when I think some things might be too much. She also reminds me how important it is to have a support system, and even more important, letting people help you. I’d tell my older sister just how much everything she says and does effects me. When we were younger, she was always looking out for me, and leading by example. I saw her as my hero. But sometimes heroes fall. Sometimes heroes need to be saved, too. Sometimes heroes need to rescue themselves. I can’t not (oh no! a double negative!) feel guilty for saying that. I could never forgive myself if something were to happen and I could have possibly prevented it. But I also would never forgive myself if things turn out okay and I realized I never believed in my sister. She deserves to have at least one person that has faith in her. I’d tell my other older sister that me not opening up to her has nothing to do with her. Well, sometimes it does. Sometimes I think of how little she’s truly willing to let people in, and then how much she seems to need someone there. I know I’m like that as well, but it’s still confusing. I never know if I should say something, or what I should say, or do. I can’t keep up with what’s going on with her. I can’t pretend like I truly know her, or what she’s been through, or how she actually feels, but I can say that I trust her to figure it out. She’s still completely equipped to get better and improve her world. I just don’t think she always remembers that. I know not everyone can always see light in the darkness. I don’t.

I’d be more honest about who I am, or really, who I want to be, with my family, if I believed in myself more. I’d apologize to some of them. I’d tell tell the ones that don’t believe in me to fuck off. That it’s none of their business if they don’t truly care about me, if they’re only concerned with how it makes them look. Or if they just really enjoy talking shit, no matter who it’s about. But that’s a bit hypocritical of me, isn’t it? How can I expect others to believe in me, if I can’t do it myself? I think I do. I think I’m probably just scared. No, I know I’m scared. I’m really fucking scared of my future. And it’s not just the details. I’m always struggling with whether or not I want one. Not that I would prevent myself from having one. I just don’t like the fact that the only thing that can completely calm me down anymore is the thought that I might not ever have to deal with my future; if it would just so happen that I wasn’t meant to live past next week. Or next month, or whenever. I hope I am. I want to be able to be proud of myself for who I’ve become before I die. But after that calm, I immediately get suffocated by all my fears about the future. Hey! I’m still being honest! New high score for me. Here’s one more truth: I absolutely hate my writing. I’ve never been good at getting down the proper “writer’s” and “audience’s” perspectives. As you can see, I’m great at going off topic, though. But it’s okay. I’m pretty sure there’s not going to be a single person that’s still reading up to here. But I really don’t care. And I’m okay with not caring. I’m typing this out for myself to read in the future, to remind myself of how I felt at this particular moment, and that I can be still be honest. It might help me out someday. Even if it doesn’t, there’s always money in the banana stand. ;)

the way louis says “they take it really seriously” sigh oh louis