I haven't written since I decided I loved Nashville.
Right now, I do not love nashville. I hate it for various reasons. I hate complaining about things so the infinite list of complaints will be kept to myself.
But I am reminded that pain from the past can do terrible damage to the present, if not properly taken care of. The past manifests it's present existence through hurt. Through turmoil. Through evil. The scars that I have tried to mend and erase for the past last 15 and 10 and 7 years are ripped open in the course of one month in one place through one person confirming one lie.
I'm tired of not being enough. I'm tired of feeling like I'm not enough.
I'm sick of balancing the line between being guarded and being foolishly vulnerable. I want to be known. I want to talk all night about fear and hope and pain and ask questions people tell you you aren't supposed to ask. I want someone to pursue me, to chase after me and tell me I am more than enough, I'm too much. Tell me that they don't want another minute of their life to go on without me in it. Not to be pursued behind closed doors, kissed at bars, and called after hours. The cycle is getting old. Even the good guys manipulate me. Even my friends twist interactions and conversations.
And then I'm left hurt, wondering how I let myself open up to someone who didn't even deserve a second glance, much less my friendship or the troubles of my heart.
My desire to be known and cared for has to be suppressed. The only thing I want now is to protect myself. I've spent the majority of my life being ignored. I get carried away when someone pretends to care... I now only divulge when asked.
It's amazing to me how many people don't ask. It's amazing to me how many people just don't care to know.