Sad Writing and Why It Doesn't Work Most Times

I'm not really sure how to start this. Usually I have a killer hook in mind, something so strong that it can even stand by itself in a post. It's taking me unusually long to gather exactly what I'm trying to push across to you.

I recall why I essentially deleted the last blog I had. The posts were incredibly revealing, no names changed, no situation left unturned, unanalyzed. I wrote with such passion, rigorously throwing down stories as they happened daily. I find that a lot of passion has escaped my life, especially recently.

I've been looking back to my younger days, at least what I can remember without my conscious masking the actualities. They say the more you try to remember something, the more it drifts farther from the truth of the event. I tried to look back on what things made me happy. Little things, material things, any things. I can't really pin anything down- it's insanely depressing to find that out after a heavy depressive episode. I try to crawl out of the hole and I'm given no hint of rope.

I tried my shot at love again this semester. I guess that's what I'm trying to get at, or at least it's my vehicle for what I'm trying to get at. Today he broke my heart. He verbally abused me. Then he 180'd and apologized and told me that he loves me and that I mean so much to him and that he's so proud of me and that I've had such a positive impact on him. I never stopped loving him once throughout the yelling and the ignoring and the impulsive, irrational behavior. That's my fault, I think. That's what crushed me the first time but the first time I waited too long amidst the abuse, the manipulation.

He never was like this to me. Stress is a monster in us all. I still love him. I still want this to work. I can't be the only one trying though. I was the only one trying today. I'll nip this before it manifests like last time and I'll do it holding my chin up. I didn't cry today until I got a call.

I got a call from my best friend. He's leaving for DC for the summer, and then China for a year. I will see him once this summer. My best friend. We've been there for each other through the roughest part of my life. I don't know how I'll deal without him for an entire year. I got a call from him and he was hysterical, in tears because he can't believe that someone would speak to me the way my love did. He thinks, nay knows, that I deserve better and he just wants me to be happy especially since he won't be here for a year to console me the way he did today when I was being yelled at over the phone.

It's enlightening to know how much someone cares about you so much. You've impacted that person's life, one way or another, in such a way that you've left a permanent indentation. My best friend doesn't tell me ten to fifteen times a day that he loves me like my love does. But he is the one that truly loves me. I love both of them, even if it is in different lights, but rarely is the light shone on the one who truly loves you more. Today I was lucky to see the friend in my life, the light in my life, that is really there. If we do end up fixing things, it won't be the same between me and my love. Nothing is honeymoon and glitter forever, but you do need those lights in your life so you can realize what you deserve. I realized what I deserve, because I do have people in my life that give it to me.

I don't know how to continue this. I'm broken in a way I've never felt before. I'm not upset with anyone, I'm not destructive or sad or depressed or I don't even know what. I'm empty. I can't write. The passion is gone. And I don't know how to find it.

#IfIWonPowerball

Will it still be a billion after taxes?

I won't take the lump sum, I'd want that shit to be divided up over a couple of years. I'd give my parents 100 milli to start off the spending. I'd think I was debt free to them forever, but how can you fully give back to the people who created you? You can't put a price on life.

I'd open a Swiss bank account and watch the money slowly grow with interest. Only for the idea though, only to brag about my off-shore account. Like on the real, is it much safer than putting my money with Chase and Citi? Probably not.

Anyone who asks me for money would be immediately cut off from my life forever. Money changes even the people you love enough to think that nothing is gonna change them. All humans look out for self-interest, we are the worst fucking species to grace this universe's existence.

I'd buy that penthouse in Manhattan I always dream of. I'd buy a G-Wagon and put it in a garage because you're stupid if you're trying to drive anywhere in Manhattan.

I'd still finish college. Maybe I'd take more time in between grad school/medical school and graduation, but shit who knows? Who knows if I'll even have the motivation to keep going to school because right now in life I've hit the wall with school. I'm just dragging myself through bricks man, I've hit the wall.

The billion won't bring back Pac, it won't bring back Biggie. My grandparents are still gonna die one day and it won't stop that and it won't bring them back neither. Fuck, man.

Man, I spent $4 on that Powerball ticket today and I swear man, it only took $4 to spiral myself back into depression.

It took $4 for me to remember how sad I actually am in life. What the fuck is a billion gonna do to me, then?

Things to Carry With Me Pt. 5

If you wanna be on top, you gotta throw EVERYONE under the bus first.

//today was quite the insightful day for me, huh? shoutout to the homie for really listening to my insane idea, acknowledging its insanity, and regarding its genuis. 

Things to Carry With Me Pt. 4

Competition drives innovation

Things to Carry With Me Pt. 3

Never put all of your eggs in one basket. 

NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY IS A LION!!

I remember the first time I ever felt like someone, a valid someone. 

For some reason, my dad took me to PS121, my first elementary school, at night for some raffle or some parents meeting who tf even remembers anymore.

But that night, I was given this card, and they told me to sign my name on the back of it. It was burgundy with some letting and a cool ass lion logo on it. It was a NY Public Library card, and it was mine.

Why I Like to Write at Night and Other Details About My Throat

I like to write at night because I feel uninhibited, because the alert chemicals in our brains decrease around this time. I like to write because maybe the high is gone or is fading and clarity is being restored right behind my eyes from since the last time highness was acheived. Tonight I like to write because she was right, eventually if it was meant to happen it will all fall into place so I just have to ignore my feelings for him right now if he is to stay my best friend. I don't believe in coincidences, right? So it must be something that brought and kept us together. I just don't want to be the one that ruins it because I'm all too good at that and I'm even better at maintaining a loss as if I had never cared in the first place.

My left throat lymph node is swolen. When the first tear drops from the left eye, it apparently signifies sadness. What does this mean for the gland?