Cause we’re young and we’re reckless…

Funny how much can change in a month. In a week. In a weekend. In a day. In an hour. In one single fuckin minute.

I’ve tried and I’ve tried to stay positive, continue on this thin path of self recovery and rediscovery and find my happiness but something like that is hard to find when the person you’re with is on the complete opposite of where you are and isn’t interested in giving themselves the chance to change their own lives. Like my friend always tell me you can’t want something for someone more than they want it for themselves and expect it to happen. But if my job is to challenge you, push you, inspire you… why would you just turn your back on me so easily? Will you ever face the things that bother you?

Along this journey and along this craptastic year I’ve learned so much more about myself than I thought I ever would. I can not freakin wait for this year to finally BE OVER but in a really resistant sort of way, I’m glad that the shit things that happened, happened. Because it made me realize that maybe I’m not suppose to be here… with you. It opened my eyes to the things that, now thinking back, have always been there but I just looked passed them I guess. I never really pointed them out or paid much attention to it and now finally SEEING this, it’s driving me crazy.

I’m the type of person who has a million crazy idea’s and I get inspired super easily and the holidays excite me. I love the lights, the colors, the music, the air, the peppermint everything… I love it all. And when I look beside me and the person I’m with is sort of just grazing over everything, has no opinion on how to trim the tree, has no idea’s on how to decorate the apartment or on a tradition we should start… it kind of sucks. And my mom keeps telling me, she had do it too. My dad didn’t put much effort into the holidays but she put up the tree, turned on the lights, turned on the music, bought favorite foods… but she wasn’t happy. And it’s crazy to hear her tell me that 29 years later when I think about my childhood Christmas and how perfect things were before my dad went and shattered that image. I thought of how festive she made everything. I thought of how she keeps the lights on well after everyone’s fallen asleep and the music. So if I go to pee in the middle of the night the lights and music is still softly playing and the house is warm. And the cats are still awake. She pulled it together, for her kids. She tried to make it as normal as she could. And if I look back, I couldn’t tell she wasn’t happy.

I don’t know how many times I’ve called her crying and she’ll ask me what happened. She’ll ask if he hit me. She’ll tell me it’s okay to feel disappointed. It’s okay to be sad and angry. It’s definitely okay to cry and she will sit on the phone with me until I’ve slowed down and ask me normal questions, talk about normal things. Sometimes she’ll say something sarcastic and I’ll end up laughing when I cry. But she always tells me it’s okay to sit down and cry once in awhile, as long as you get up and do something positive and productive after. She knows how hard this is for me, because she went through the exact same thing and it sucks. It sucks that my biggest fear when it came to marriage is coming true. And I think of all that shit that’s like you subconsciously pick someone just like your dad. And crap like that. I mean, we were 19, does that really count? I didn’t know.

I took down the Christmas stuff, folded the tree back up and told him if he wanted Christmas then he can put the tree back up and the fairy lights I spent 4 hours making and he didn’t want to help me put them on. It’s cool, whatevs. But mom is right. This is my apartment and if I want to enjoy Christmas then I SHOULD. And no one should have the power to take anything away from me. I’m finally on my own and I can do whatever I want.

So let’s do that. Let’s deck the shit out of this apartment. Let’s run up the electric bill with lights. Let’s craft something festive. Let me make something beautiful and bright to send this shit year off with.

Cause 2015 is mine. And fuck you if you try to take it from me.

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