fuck goes on…

I’m beginning to notice that this whole ” forcing myself to feel som type of way” thing isn’t really working out too well. I have started my tumblr again so that everytime I feel the urge to speak on things, I can relax myself. Right now I have an impulse to bring shit up again… I’m forcing myself to relax. I love with all my heart but I don’t trust because of this. The more I do, the more I give or give in or comprimise the more I feel I can’t trust. Anyway, I’m doing this so that I see my therapist, I can log my mental processes through this medium. I truly feel that if I continue doing this, I will eventually overcome it. For now I’m just going to act until I get the hang of really feeling nothing.

its now or never

time to crack down and see whats good…..

miss the days when life was a lil easier.  feelin pretty bent on the henny right now.  bout to make it all night with this…. we’ll seee how it goes

so i

danced the night away, and still feel somewhat unreal.  perhaps its the fact i drank a lil too much.. perhaps its the fact that I drank and I still find myself lonely… i don’t really understand, but either way, i’m finding myself enebriated and alone.  I suppose this is what happens when you are drunk and pretty or what people call *pretty* … ANYWAY, SO THE ENIBRIATED ME IS THEREFORE GONE…. and pleasantly gone.  jesus i need some kind of affection… 3 guys here i wonder who;s going to be the lucky one….

when did…

saying “I like you” become so hard? It’s like I can’t get the words to creep out of me anymore… Always feels like it’s something you’re gona regret… or have an unbearable awkward silence afterward. It used to be that saying “I Love You” brought about such anxiety in a person, but these days I’m finding it harder and harder to say LIKE even more. Trial and error is how the normal person learns their mistakes, but I don’t want to make anymore mistakes. I really don’t. I want to be able to immerse myself in an individual soully on the fact that I like them.. and be proud of that. Instead, I feel almost ashamed the thought even runs across my mind. It’s like being a lil girl again and having lil girl crushes, the kind you doodle in your notebook over and over. So here I am, admiring from afar, or playing the friend role, or acting like I really don’t care when in all truth I DO CARE. I like you Chris. Liked you since day one… since your doofy ass greeted me from the doorway of your pathetic apartment. I’ve liked you since those random (and still occurring) aim conversations we have. The way you mop the floor after I take a shower and make a mess everywhere. The way we laugh at absolutely nothing. Or laugh at the same things, for that matter. I like your absurd closeness to your dog, even though I myself can’t understand such a bond. Your simple, and maybe simplicity is what I need? Since the first one, probably.. I felt some sort of connection to you. Perhaps my fascination is derived from the fact you’ve been in your stupid relationship, or maybe it’s because we have so many similiar interests and appreciations for things, YET WE ARE SO DIFFERENT. That week at your place was probably one of the most memorable weeks of my life. Those conversations we had face to face were some of the realest ones. You’re like a good friend, but you’re hardly there in my reality. And I can’t see why. Maybe the reason why is the same reason the words I LIKE YOU can’t seem to leave my lips. hmm.. oh well.

another day, another thought…

 in all honesty, I’m completely happy with my decision to start school again, BUT FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKk im bored out of my god damned mind.   I have this crazy insane 6 hour break in between my classes, which is absolutely absurd.  Laptop is about to die, cant stand the fact I have another hour and half to go.  SOME BULLSHIT MAN… and on top of everything, I forgot my gym shit so it’s not like I can just go into the gym and waste a few hours.  Drank about 20 coffees, smoked about 20 cigarettes, FEELING PRETTY CRACKED OUT right now.   Dead tired from last night… but I had a good time.  Gabriel is pretty much the same with a few exceptions.  He seems to be more interested in the long term, but still the same bland, rather dull guy.  I means he has his quirks, a little corny though, and sometimes when I look at him i’m like…”wtf?”  The shit that comes out of that kids mouth man… sometimes I wonder if he honestly thinks before he speaks.  And he makes these ridiculous sounds, and this stupid lil kid voice that annoys the living fuckery out of me. 

I miss my bike.  REAL BAD.  today is beautiful weather out, i would die to be riding.  Lisa is trying to sell my extra helmets right now, but I wish I could jus find anohter 4 g’s and buy myself a new one.  Should’ve gotten a car first, but damn sure do miss my crotchrocket.  FUCK man.  ANd springtime is right around the corner, and what do i have? absolutely nothing… just these two feet and the boots made for walking and 7 trains.  laptop is about to die,  thats all i keep thinking about.  I miss when life was as simple as waking up, drinking a coffee and getting up to ride.  I miss the wind blowing up my shirt and zig zags through cars, hard curves and that nervous feeling u get when you feel as though you are always about to fall, but u never do.  It’s the best feeling in the world, the adrenaline rush is INSANITY.  maybe in the summer I can get a job some bullshit job and stack up some money…..

BORED

BORED

BORED

one hour and 15 min to go.

ttyl.

somewhere over the rainbow…

Today marks the first of many days where I will endure a pounding headache spanding a broad horizon of hours that circle my restless existence over and over again…

Tommorow is a day that seems far enough that I can’t reach it but close enough that it’s shadow looming over me brings chills to my spine.

Do you know what it feels like to want to live one minute and wish you could end your life the next?

I do.

And I wonder if one day I will meet someone like me.

But till then, I just live my life day by day, as the days come, as they go, as they always have EVER so slowly and too fast when it really matters. That’s life isn’t it? Moments we wish we could hold forever, and minutes we wish would disappear.

I am searching somewhere for someone who will really understand me. Perhaps that is the reason I have been unable to find true happiness in a partner, because in essence, I have never had a PARTNER. So i go about on this search for a companion to share my many questions and issues with. I don’t feel like I have many deep dark secrets, but I have so many deep dark thoughts, and I wish I could find someone out there who was just like me… So that I didn’t feel so alone

That’s the great thing about this tumblr shit, i can just ramble on and on and no one will judge me. Feels nice to finally do that. It’s very liberating. Sometimes I just want to scream really really loud… but I can never find the right place to do it, not even in my own home because then the neighbors would hear me. Sometimes I just want to cut things, just to feel a pain… I imagine cutting my hair all the time, and in a disturbing way it actually makes me feel good. I see cuts on my arms even though I never ever pick up a razor to do it. I just look at my arms and let it all happen in my head. I draw pictures that always come out prettier than how I envision them in my head, and it angers me because cute is so far from what I would describe my art. I can’t look at myself in the mirror for longer than 10 seconds without getting scared, unless I’m doing my makeup because it’s easier to look at one thing (like say an eye, or lips) then the whole mess. The wrinkles on my face barely describe the young girl that lives inside this ruined body of mine. Oh yea… about that, I had everything about my body. It is the temple of another woman, and I imagine myself as someone else in my head, until the reflection in the mirror tells me the truth i try to avoid. I feel like I have more enemies than friends, and I haven’t ever really trusted anyone even though I’m way too nice. And too giving. I suppose I learned how to be so pathetic thanks to my family. The family I’ve never really had… but everyone has their problems.

I am totally and utterly bored with my life. I wish to be about 15 again, and start it all over. NOt that I regret anything, I just wouldn’t mind doing it over.  There’s so much more I could ramble about but now the depression starts to sink in, and a craving for a certain cigerette is beginning to eat my insides alive.

My name is tiffany. I am so completely and utterly fucked. and nobody knows, so it’s probably my biggest secret.

all that and a bag of COACH

the first nice bag i ever got was from five of my platonic high school friends in freshman year.  It was given to me in an almost surreal-like fashion, a right of passage present the “fab 5” chipped into for each member’s birthday.  it was a simple coach purse, about 6 inches in width and 4 inches in height, and it was a black leather beauty.  i remember opening the box and smelling that fresh leather scent better than the moment i first laid my eyes on it.  Those little “c’s” were all over the place that year, as if out of thin air, and you weren’t a cool chick unless you had yourself a nice little coach bag to carry around on your wrist through the halls.  I developed a liking to these bags, and that very xmas i was more than excited when i opened my presents and my nonna’s present unraveled before my eyes in the form of another coach bag, this one just as small but with intricate silver “c’s” stitched on the outside, a shiny backdrop, little metallic clutch, and pink silk inside.

I never really had a problem with coach bags until i started recieving them from men… instead of being this beautiful thing every woman should have, it became the precursor of failure ahead.  A guy named Greg gave me a Prada bag basically to buy my affections.  Needless to say that didn’t work. Another guy who stood at about 5’4 named John gave me a black coach leather bag with leopard print black and white “c’s” in a strip on the front just to show off what a “mafioso baller” he was (little man syndrome i suppose? he was always trying to prove himself in such fashion). A 40 year old confused lostboy named Glen gave me a patchwork Coach bag and matching Coach wallet this summer in an effort to not only buy me out but make up for his shortcomings in youth and sanity by showering me with gifts.  NOW the worst part… this guy named Tone (who i honestly thought was absolutely FABULOUS adn wonderful till this bag..) surprised me with a grey leather Coach bag with blue silk interior as a “present for the 1st anniversary of us hanging out.. to remember him even if we never see each other again.” pause. ok... what. the. fuck?

Let me tell you man, like a ton of bricks that one fell on me. and hard. even worse than somebody attempting to buy me.  It’s beginning to feel more like the demonstration of me as a dating failure.  I used to love gifts.  But now I’m beginning to feel like a Coach bag is the justifiable means to an end. AND EVEN SADDER… GIVEN IN THE BEGINNING!!?!

What’s so sad about this predicament is that I actually enjoyed our date until that fucking bag.  Seriously… his friends were so nice, I felt right at home with him, his friends, his lifestyle, even his empty ass apartment.  I wasn’t expecting anything, cus i took it as it was and for the first time in a while, what it was felt oddly right.  it was so refreshing to go on a real date, and act like myself..   This coach bag just brought out all those nasty nagging inadequacy issues i’ve always had inside of myself… and made me feel like i had to start acting again.  Because acting is a safety blanket, it makes you less defenseless and what the fuck man..FUCK THAT FUCKING BAGGGGGGG…

Is this is a sign, or a sincere affectionate gesture, to give a person like me a Coach bag?  It feels like the fucking curse of the COACH BAG.  I feel like i should have never accepted it… You ever feel like you just can’t handle anymore disappointments?? i feel like that… ahh i hateeeeeeeeeeeeee this…