{"id":200,"date":"2018-01-21T16:09:23","date_gmt":"2018-01-21T16:09:23","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.wyllaverse.com\/?p=200"},"modified":"2018-01-21T16:09:23","modified_gmt":"2018-01-21T16:09:23","slug":"i-am-myself-and-i-will-likely-never-change","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.wyllaverse.com\/index.php\/2018\/01\/21\/i-am-myself-and-i-will-likely-never-change\/","title":{"rendered":"I am myself; and I will likely never change."},"content":{"rendered":"<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Everyone seems to find some kind of reliability in me; a guarantee that someone will always be there. And I am proud of that; that I have made so many people feel so safe, and so loved. But there is a kind of reliability that I wish <\/span><b>I<\/b><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> had. Someone to make <\/span><b>me<\/b><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> feel loved, and safe, and warm and wanted. Someone to hold me, and talk to me, and be with me anytime. I wish I had someone I could trust enough to fall for. Maybe even fall in love. Someone who could hold my damaged, broken, stitched, bandaged little heart. Someone to never let me go. Many people I know, my friends, they think I trust them. But I don\u2019t trust them enough to tell them everything that hurts me, I don\u2019t trust them enough to hold my heart without hurting me. I just want to feel\u2026.. <\/span><b>Safe<\/b><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">.<\/span><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">And I feel like they\u2019re right in front of me, every time I put on my headphones it\u2019s like they\u2019re just standing there. Waiting for me. I can feel them but I can\u2019t see them and I can\u2019t love them. Once I take the headphones off I\u2019m back in this world.. A world that I wish could see things the way I do. I see colors and sounds that no one has ever known, I make dimensions of my own. Worlds and stories and scenes all in my head. They play over and over again. And they are what make me insane; but they are the only thing tying me to sanity.<\/span><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">My music is my life, I hear it in every conversation. In every rain. In every glance or act. The notes just fly past me on a wild wind of imagination. And then just like that; it\u2019s gone. It\u2019s sad, and it\u2019s hateful. It\u2019s depressing and almost tormenting. To know that it\u2019s all right there; but you can never have it. To know that everything you\u2019ve ever wanted is staring right at you and you cannot do anything to reach out for it. No matter how hard you try. Then your mind unfolds, you unravel at the thought of a chance. You go looking for it, and you find nothing but you keep trying and trying and trying until the very earth you stand on bears the strange mark of your past footsteps. Where you\u2019ve tread before in hope, in wonder, only to find a dark cold corner of isolation.<\/span><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">That\u2019s my life, wrapped up in a bow. Dark, cold, isolated, dangerous. That is why I want someone I can lean on is because I feel hopeless. Helpless. Living inside a world I\u2019m lost in; in a world I don\u2019t want to be alone in. But I\u2019m always alone, and when you put me in a room, or when you tell me to close my eyes\u2026 You leave me with my worst enemy. You leave me with the one thing I cannot escape that I have run from since the beginning of my memory. You leave me with myself. And yes, every time I ran and tripped over a rock, it hurt.. But it didn\u2019t hurt as much as being myself each and everyday. Calling out to the emptiness, with no response or so much as a whisper. Just being alone. Just being me. Feeling as though by being myself I could never be safe; because I am not an attractive person on the inside. I am blunt and rude, and yet loving and kind. I try to be someone else so that the world will accept me, but even then I fail. I can make a friend, and eventually they stray from me. They want something different. Someone different. Another kind of friend or hope or love. And even though I\u2019m happy for them when they do find their way.. It doesn\u2019t hurt any less when they leave. It hurts more to know that they will never come back.<\/span><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">And I can hope all I want for them to come back, but they don\u2019t. They move on. They move away. They practically run, and I understand that. It still hurts but I know why they do that. It\u2019s difficult to explain but I know why. Change is inevitable. Like death; and heartbreak, and disappointment, and pain. You just don\u2019t go through life without these things, and when I don\u2019t change like everyone else, people leave. But I still rage; I continue on and I fight the normal tide of life knowing that I am different and I am myself and that no one can change that. I <\/span><b>am<\/b><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> cold; I <\/span><b>am<\/b><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> alone, but have you ever seen someone more at peace? I am sad, but I can rest; knowing that I am all those things. And I will likely never change.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Everyone seems to find some kind of reliability in me; a guarantee that someone will always be there. And I am proud of that; that I have made so many people feel so safe, and so loved. But there is a kind of reliability that I wish I had. Someone to make me feel loved, [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-200","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.wyllaverse.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/200","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.wyllaverse.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.wyllaverse.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.wyllaverse.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.wyllaverse.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=200"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.wyllaverse.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/200\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":201,"href":"https:\/\/www.wyllaverse.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/200\/revisions\/201"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.wyllaverse.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=200"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.wyllaverse.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=200"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.wyllaverse.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=200"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}