memories...in the corner of my mind

This is the last box from my dad. He is in the Philippines now and what is left from my life that I don't have with me is in an apartment in Germany and will end up being trashed by a stranger. It's possible someone will go through my things and keep a few things for themselves. I can only hope they don't speak English so none of what they find and maybe read through won't make any sense. It hurts.

I'm one of those people who NORMALLY says it's just stuff. I'm the person who said it'd be easier to throw out everything in my apartment and just start over. I'm pretty good at throwing out/donating clothes (when I can motivate myself to go through it all). I can easily let go of extra things I don't need (broken computer monitors, scrap yarn). I had no problem separating out things from the three boxes my dad did send me and put them in donation boxes. Not this time though. It's been hard to deal with the fact that part of my childhood is gone and I had no control over how it was let go.

It's like a part of me is missing. I have those memories, but they're fading. I didn't get the chance to refresh them. There were yearbooks and stationary and TONS of Hello Kitty things I'd collected over the years. *weeps quietly* A few items that by now are vintage that I could have sold for extra money. So much stuff, so much of me.

I'm kicking myself for not contacting my dad sooner. I would've had him start sending me back my stuff a lot sooner. Logically it seems silly, but I think it's going to take some time to get over it. I'm a little mad at my dad for leaving everything for someone else to rifle through, but I understand why it had to be that way.

*deep heavy sigh*

reading - Cinder by Marissa Meyer This post brought to you in part by:

a simple text - an update

A few hours after writing this post, I received a text from ScruffyNerdy as I was trying to go to bed.

After telling him I was in a funk, ScruffyNerdy sent me a simple reply that said, "You miss the California sunshine." And then I started to cry. True, I did miss the California sunshine. I don't know what it was about his text though that let me know it was okay to let the flood gates burst, but it felt good to let the tears flow. I'm thankful for his text.

reading - Last Sacrifice by Richelle Mead This post brought to you in part by:

feels like something is wrong

I've been in a mood lately.

For the past week I've felt like I just want to curl up in a ball somewhere and cry. And if I could force the cry to come out I would. I'm all for a good cry. There is also a feeling of despair that is hanging out. I don't feel sad, but I feel heavy. I don't like it. I wish I knew why I felt this way so I could make it go away.

Am I unhappy having to go to my job - yup.
Am I unhappy with where I live - yup.
Do I wish my finances were about 20 times better - yup.
Do I wish I was about 30 lbs lighter - fa sho.
Am I feeling a bit lonely (romantically) - very much so.

But none of that seems to be why I feel like poop. That's all stuff I can control, but it's like something in me is like fuck that shit we're staying right where we are. We're gonna feel like shit. I've been trying to do things that make me happy and things that I enjoy, but the fuzzy feelings don't last for long. I try to motivate myself to leave my apartment when the weather is actually nice, can't bother to get moving. It fucking sucks.

It especially sucks because I have no desire to be creative either and I have a shit ton of work I SHOULD be doing right now. Mother's Day cards to make themselves.

Ugh. Crapptastic feelings won't you please just go away.


reading - Last Sacrifice by Richelle Mead This post brought to you in part by: