Fearless

One of the saddest parts about leaving this place is know that I’ll never be able to bring my kids back to the house I grew up in.  I’ll never be able to show them where half my childhood is.  Most of my memories come from this place.  Playing barbies in the fish pond.  That first day my parents surprised us with Chip after waiting years for a dog.  Playing basketball outside.  Those front steps where I got my first real kiss.  Staying up all night with my sisters every Christmas and Easter then waking my parents up at the crack of dawn.  Countless memories.  Countless parties and celebrations.  My sister spent her last night with the last name Brenon in this house.  We all got ready and prepared to walk her down the aisle to her new life in this house.  Twelve years of memories I won’t be able to show my kids. Visits to grandma and grandpa will be in separate, meaningless places.  There will be no memories, no history to show them besides old dated pictures.

Perhaps the saddest part is realizing that I’m no longer a child.  Going through all my old books, toys, barbies, stuffed animals, everything I used to love and cherish made me realize that.  I yearn for those young and carefree “dork days” to return.  I know that’s impossible.  Although I haven’t considered myself a child in years, it’s just now hitting me that I am an adult.  That’s a terrifying thought.  Part of me was holding on to my childhood for as long as possible, but now it’s time to face reality.  The truth is that I’m 20 years old and I need to get my shit together in order to become who I want.  In order to do that I need to let go of the past while still embracing it.  I need to accept that I’m now an adult and these next 5 years of my life will set the tone for the rest of my life.  Although I haven’t technically lived in this house for years, it was always there and I guess part of me assumed it always would be.  But now, it’s not.  Selling this house and moving out feels like I’m selling part of my childhood.  It feels like I’m leaving a huge part of myself behind.  But just like everything else, I have to move on and accept what I cannot change.  I guess it’s time for me to start acting like a grown-up…. Shit

I’m literally so done making such an effort to be friends with people.  I’m so sick of putting so much into some friendships and getting nothing out but bull shit.  I’m tired of doing everything I can to make some people happy but it’s still not good enough.  I’ve tried changing who I was to make others happy and that still wasn’t good enough.  I have so much shit going on in my life right now and half my “friends” couldn’t give two shits unless it involves them.  Meanwhile I’d sit there and listen to their sob story, give the best advice I can, and try and make them feel better.  I’m just so sick of it.  I’m done trying to make other people happy.  I’m done being a good friend to people who only treat me like shit.  From now on I’m treating people the exact same way they treat me. 

It makes me sick to know that I still think about you constantly but you couldn’t 2 shits as to whether or not I was even alive anymore