A few days ago, I lost my light, my reason and determination to be happy. I just started working at this temp staffing agency and I am constantly surrounded by people who are less fortunate than I am of all ages. I had thought,

“What if I ended up in a direction that leads to a life similar to theirs?”

Then I realized that no matter how hard I might try that I’ll never be on top so I could help those who are in my place now. I’ll never be smart enough, pretty enough, rich enough, pure enough, strong enough. I figured that if it didn’t matter, then why bother living? There was another suicide attempt that night.

Obviously, I failed.

I don’t know at this moment if I’m happy about it or not. All I know is that the next day I went in to work, I looked at everyone with a new light. I have so much respect for these people who were willing to do this dirty work to survive in this world. To work in these conditions just for themselves or for their families. I was stupid and selfish for thinking the way I did and their strength inspired me to work harder, be smarter and in turn show the world my beauty. I smiled brighter everyday after that because I wished to alleviate at least a little of the sorrows in their lives.

I feel like I don’t have as many friends as I’m led to believe.

I feel like they get tired of me and plan stuff behind my back. Then when I find out about the plans to hangout, they only invite me to not hurt my feelings.

Why don’t they just go out with each other already and kill me.

Damn.

I’m not into this slow torture shit.

I don’t know how to really start this off better than with an I’m sorry.

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My first time here so let’s make it memorable…

Here I am sitting in my bed just trying to sleep when thoughts of him surface but hey I’m not complaining…this time. Reason why I can’t complain is because of the thought that crossed my mind.

“Ladies, if it hurts more to love him than your period, it’s time to move on.”

As true as that is I just had to laugh at myself. He must be a real a%#€£ for him to hurt me more than my period.

But I shouldn’t complain.

Both are a part of life. You live, you love, you get periods. And if you’re a boy (that doesn’t PMS) you get shot and live to be gangsta…that’s the closest a guy will get to understanding a period- IMO.

My point is that we go through things to make us stronger.

To grow. To learn to love. Among other things…

But at our weakest times is where everyone can relate even though the situation is not the same. That time is when our emotions, our true selves can pour out freely. It can without fear, without embarrassment.

And that is the moment when the deepest meanings can be put into writing.

At least for me…

My writing is ruled by my emotions… ….but my essays are not. :/

That’s why I think the phrase “The blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice,” applies to my writing. The older I get, the more I hurt, the more my emotions build up and in turn, transform into the juiciest of pieces. Sugar for the eyes, I say.

So in conclusion:

Don’t get high off my pieces, please. ;)

Now Playing: “Diary of Jane” - Breaking Benjamin