~rightwhereyoubelong

There were words that I had wanted to write, to express. However, I'm too caught up in my surly fit of moodiness to really exact the source of my apparent misery. It's always the girl, though, isn't it? The source of my obvious discomfort is a girl - the girl, to be precise. But I won't swear on that. I'm a doubtful person to begin with; I question anything and everything worth reasoning with and against. Nothing is certain except for things you choose to accept. So, to say that this girl is the main and problematic source of my displeasure would be a lie, for that would mean that every aspect of my life is miserable - and that isn't true.

The problem simply is, I've given too much of my heart out already, and yet I still find myself giving even more, as if I'm going to be re-paid when I'm too modest to expect it. I never expect the same sort of effort that I give in the nuances of romance, but it's always nice to appreciate the reciprocation, you know? Felicia said it best, that I give too much of my heart out, that I sidle belly-up for people, and even though it can be a good thing, it can put me at great risk. For what more dangerous risk exists other than giving your all into love? Nothing at all, because love is as unpredictable as.. Well, it's three in the morning, and trying to compare something metaphysical to something more concrete is mind-boggling.

Maybe I do give too much of myself out on the line, but I've always believed in love, and I've always been a fool for love. I've never received the same amount of love that I've put in, except for perhaps in the very beginning, when everything was naive and technicolor; now, I can see all the grays and blurred colors sifting through. I think it has something to do with me, right? I mean, I'm no stereotypical teenager who has to have a significant other to be complete nor do I believe that just because I haven't found the right one now doesn't mean I will never find one. It's just that, oh I don't know. It seems unfair that I can't keep a wall up. Everytime I've made a determined decision to block people out, there I go, belly-up - allowing everyone a free take at me to see all my vulnerable weaknesses. I can't be as strong as I try to be. I'm too empathetic, too sympathetic, too loving and understanding - and I say that modestly. I can't hate, and I can't not forgive. I don't understand hate, and I don't believe in fighting. But I have unresolved anger and trust issues. I disassociate myself from those whom I love best, and I isolate myself from those who want in. It's out of habit and not out of intention.

As for Morgan, there isn't anything left to say. I'll always love her in the way that you never stop loving your first love. Time shifts like sifting sand, crawling like the words choked in your throat - seasons change, and so must people. I've accepted the terms that we may never meet, and when we do, it won't ever go anywhere. I've accepted it because I believe she deserves better. As for me, I never deserved anything more. No one understands what sort of love existed between us, and not even I can comprehend or even fathom the idea. But it exists, and I've accepted that as well. This space between us - it's necessary. It pains and it aches, but it's.. there. Accepted.

I've never hated Brittany, for all those times that I've seethed my anger towards her, for everytime I've even thought about hating her, I've realized that somewhere beneath all that built up resentment is something that still cares. It makes me feel weak because it means that I'm still vulnerable to be hurt again. I just don't understand all the lies and obvious twisting of words. I don't comprehend how I was such a bitch, when I was too intimidated to even stick up for myself. How can I manipulate people when I don't even involve myself with much of anyone anymore? If she reads this, I hope she knows that I can forgive her, and I hope she can forgive me. I don't hate her, I just don't understand a lot of things that happened.

I feel as if I'm writing a suicide-letter, explaining myself to others and reasoning everything and everyone. Maybe it's a subconscious impulse to rationalize and philosophize over the people in my life and what I'm going through, so that in the end, I'll have evidence - proof that it all happened. It's been a while since I've been on a self-discovery search. I got lost somewhere along the way. It's raining again, tomorrow will be freezing. I'm nervous and impatient, jealous and paranoid. I'm everything that I swore I'd never be. I'm supposed to be the laidback lesbian, and I am - but something's changing and I don't like it. It's not welcomed.

Well, I'll write more. I'm sleepy.