Owl Eyes: The journey of a girl

Met the guy of my dreams today. Ignored.

Told you I would text you, I really meant I will probably never talk to you again.

Why am I so socially inept?

Fawk you.

I remember last summer when you said I was everything you wanted. I was terrified.

(Source: i-am-i-am-me, via iplaywithincendia)

Climax by Usher.
Peanut Butter & Jelly.
Rain.

The fact I am physically & emotionally unable to reciprocate the feelings of a persistent boy.

An evaluation of my inadequacy.

My inability to cope with the great unknown.

The name Peter.

The length of this list.

So awful how I tweeted I was watching House & almost texted a poor boy I was at work. So instead I am ignoring his texts. How do you tell someone you don’t like them without hurting them? Especially when you led them on. A little.

I want to fix all the broken people.

Every since I was young I have always had this overwhelming sense of responsibility to make things right. A certain aspect of it, I believe, has to do with the fact I grew up in a happy home with good (notice the use of “good” as oppose to “perfect”) parents. We struggled with money a little but I never considered us poor. My house has always been nice, my siblings and I were never especially sick or hurt, and my parents consistently put us first. My home life was unusually good and I have always been aware of it. With all this privelege comes a sense of responsibility. Christianity is the standard in my home and genorosity, compassion, and kindness were the rule.All this culminated to a heightened sense of obligation towards suffering people, so all of humanity really.

It feels like more of a burden than a gift. I am often left feeling depressed over my inablity to deal with mine or other’s problems coupled with feelings of uselessness and guilt. I never feel like I have made a difference in someone’s life and I am unusually critical of others. Even knowing that I can’t possibly help everyone because some people are too far away or don’t want help doesn’t soothe the tears or my troubled mind. Why did God do this to me?

When I got into my first car accident, my dad sat me down at the kitchen table to discuss what had happened. I sat there wondering how I would be punished, but he told me he had expected this would happen and he
just wanted to figure out how we would pay to fix the car. I cried because my little sisters had been in the car. He sighed and said something I don’t believe I’ll ever forget.”Bee, I love you just as much as I love those girls,
I never worry about them when their with you, I know how much you love them. I worry more about you because I can see you haven’t found your place yet.” That made me cry the hardest.

(Source: monster-in-your-head, via rosesalwaysfade)