Broadripple Is Burning

May 2, 2013

I’ve made it my personal goal lately to go out and meet new people.

This involves going places I’ve never gone before and becoming more of a regular at my favorite locations.

Before, when I wasn’t single and when I had my long hair, I never had difficulty with this. I was approachable and wasn’t afraid to approach others.

Now, I’m not saying that either of these are the direct cause of my problems, but they don’t help. I’ve been told that my short hair makes me look like I “have something to prove,” like a little punk girl I suppose. When it comes to being single I can attribute it to “you always want what you don’t have.” When I was in a relationship, I found comfort in meeting new people and expanding my horizons. It felt dangerous and exciting. Now that I’m single, that drive is gone.

Part of me knows that meeting new people and making new connections will help me heal, but another part of me just wants to be alone. I can’t trust anyone. I have never in my life had problems with trust. I always preached my “see the good in everyone” sermon to others, but now I can’t even pretend to believe in my own words. I only see malicious intent behind every interaction. That isn’t helping either…

I used to seek out emotional, philosophical discussions with strangers. I thrived on learning from others and their experiences. Now I find it difficult to put any of my own thoughts into words. The pain and weight they carry just isn’t ready to leave my head yet.

I’m getting interest, don’t get me wrong, but it’s the worst kind: sexual. Drunken text messages from acquaintances or friends. Thanks, but no thanks, I’m not a toy. This has made it particularly difficult on one occasion. The drunk texter works at my safe haven, The Alley Cat, and now there is an awkward tension whenever he’s around. I don’t know if I should take his drunken words as disrespect or misdirected interest in me as a person.

My anxiety is getting better with my prescribed medication. I take it when needed, when I know I will have an attack, and it eases the stress just enough. The daily meds are helpful too, keeping me level headed and capable of being in public again.

For a while this anxiety was my excuse to not be social. Now that it’s not relevant anymore I am having to force myself to try and make friends. My self confidence lowered, my friendly nature deteriorating, and awkward situations on the rise are bringing me to become a hermit. This, too, is a problem seeing as how I have no personal space at home. I share my home with two people half the time, one person 100% of the time, and my father a majority of the time.

I’m blending in with my surroundings, surviving. I never wanted to get to this point. Just surviving is just that: not living. I want to live. I need to laugh, breath sighs of contentment, and enjoy what I am doing with my life. This may come with time, it may come with a drastic event, or it may evade me forever. I’m scared to find out which of these will occur.

I knew how to be myself, what most people see as “Kelsey,” but I’ve lost it. I’ve lost her. She is either gone forever or hiding under layers of distrust and self conscience thoughts.

This song has been my anthem for quite some time now.

“Everything that I have loved has turned to stone… Don’t look at me that way…”


P.S. I think I’m subconsciously trying to perfect my “Come… please… talk to me… I need somebody. Anybody…” body language. No success so far.


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