I have been making plans. About posts I want to write. Posts about trips I went on, things I did, movies I watched, books I read. But somehow I can’t get myself to write. So I ignore writing completely.
I’ve been painting a little bit. I like it. I’m trying new stuff. I’m failing but I’m also learning. I think I’m okay with not getting the results I want with my paints because I’m always creating something. Something is better than nothing.
People ask me how I am. I don’t know how to answer.
I want to be the kind of person who casually says stuff like “Hope the weather is treating you nice” and “more grieving together, crying together, laughing together. more trips to the forest”.
It astounds me how much I am like my father. I don’t want to be. My mother hates it.
I will stop talking. I will not say anything no matter how much it bothers me. I cannot deal with the things my mother says in return.
Starbucks is so fucking overpriced, I need to stop spending money.
Some things just need to be thrown away. Don’t store things thinking of memories which you know ill hurt you later. But maybe don’t throw them away completely, just put them away?
Trust you instincts. When you feel that there’s something off about the way she talks to you and treats you, listen to yourself. Be careful. Trust yourself, you’re the only one who will take care of you. Something is off about this situation, please be careful and don’t get you heart broken. It’s not worth it.
You are doing okay. You’re learning to do it all on your own. You’re dealing. It’s okay to fuck up (just don’t tell her?).