All of its faces

Death...and all of its faces. That's what I was going to title it. Too morbid? People get scared away so easily. Should I even care anymore? They can step up...I don't need to lower myself. Be brave, the rest of us are. And really, I'm in a better state of mind than I have been in a long, long time. But I'm still me.

I've been thinking about many things. My relatives, mostly. They haunt my dreams...and my waking moments. But I've been thinking about them this time in comparison to other things in life. Not necessarily my life, but life in general. All the bad things, the difficult people, the cruelty and abuse and hopelessness. Religion and morals and other people's opinions. None of it matters. Not in my world. Not anymore. Because when you lose what's most important to you, when you lose what you can't live without...but still live, afterward. When you know more people are going to die and you can't stop it. The other things don't matter much. They barely scratch the surface.

My relatives matter, my pets matter, my friends matter, their children, their loss.

The bad people in this world, doing bad things, will continue. I can't stop it or change it. I really don't care. I'm cynical, bitter, never had much faith in this country and its people...or any, really. I see reality. I know too much. About what we are inside. What I am. I believe in freedom of choice, free will, following your heart and listening to your intuition. A lot of issues make me mad, and I could get mad, but why should I have to? Haven't I been through enough? Haven't I had to deal with the bad things enough? I don't want them anymore. I don't want that in my head or my heart. I don't want to know, because I'll never forget. I'm not running away or avoiding because I'm scared or lazy or ignorant. I'm keeping certain things out of my life now. I'm allowing myself a chance at peace. I think I've earned it. I'm not always good, but I do a lot of good. I'm there for everyone, even when they don't deserve me. I take their pain in, relive their memories, experience their experiences through words and emotions. Those who deserve it, have my heart. And I will do it at the sacrifice of myself. How can I not? I can love at my lowest, when I have nothing left for myself - I can love them. I find more, it comes. People don't understand how I feel, why I feel. I can't turn it off, I can't just think it away or stop thinking. I feel it, down to my bones, throughout my soul. I can love so deeply. And many are afraid of that intensity. They don't want me to love them. Who doesn't want to be loved? You don't have to love back to accept love. You can just be grateful, thankful that you matter. That someone's heart speaks your name with reverence. Is that too intense? It almost makes me want to laugh...because that's normal for me. And I don't know if I can ever be loved enough to fill the void. I need continuous reassurance and demonstrations. I run out of the immediate feeling and start to doubt and need to be replenished. My heart has a high metabolism? I hate that...need.

I don't know if explaining does the trick. I feel like my life is constantly explaining...why I'm this way, what led me to become like this, to feel like this. Why do I dwell on the past, why do I avoid certain situations, why don't I do things the way other people do, why am I so quiet, why do I stand by myself, why didn't I go out last night, why don't I just do it - just drive, just talk, just act right. Just change, fix it, stop thinking. Stop crying. How hard is it, to be like them? To take their advice, to see things their way? It's not ME. It's not me.

Sometimes I get so tired of fighting and smiling and pretending...staying quiet so they won't know how much I don't want them there...not today, not Every day. God, the stress, the noise, the anxiety makes me want to scream. Can't you understand that I need a break? Can't you see things through MY eyes? But, they don't...can't...won't. I'm invisible. No one can hear me...I speak and it's like I'm saying nothing. They talk...that's all that matters. She doesn't listen. No one remembers. And then I'm the crazy one, I'm wrong...because I do. I remember. I don't want to. Not everything. No one knows all of me. Does anyone deserve to? Is there anyone who wouldn't betray me or belittle me or make me feel small and stupid? Why didn't you tell, why didn't you change it, why didn't you stand up for yourself? I was a kid...I was small. But not stupid. I know better than to say what I feel. I know what happens when you do. I know that I have to take care of myself. Fight for myself. Heal myself. "Don't let them in, don't let them see. Be the good girl you always have to be..."

I have friends now. Good friends that I confide in. Who let me speak and listen to me. Don't tell me I'm wrong or strange. Trust me to know what's best for myself. People who go out of their way to make me happy. The way I do for others. Who love me and accept me and don't abandon me when I'm at my worst. It's so easy to walk away. Except for me...I'm the opposite...I hold on for too long. If they only knew. My heart is...large. I love too much. But I have to live with it. I have to live?

I still don't know how the world still revolves without her in it, my Lazy. I don't know why I'm alive to see it. Why I dream. Why am I still here when they're not? I used to ask that question a lot after my aunt died, when I'd cry in the bathroom at work. I felt like a colossal idiot failure and I knew she could do a much better job with my life. I just hope now, she's somewhat proud of me for opening my mind to certain things she wanted for me, that we talked about. Hey, I asked 2 different guys out in the past 5 years - that's monumental (and terrifying) - she'd cheer for me on that, anyway. Even if it ended in disaster and heartbreak, as usual. But I did it. Little shy Nikki. You don't know my strength. Being unmarried with no kids of my own, taking care of other people's kids and living back at home...not a cause for celebration. But she'd understand. Maybe the only one who would. It's hard, watching, smiling.Time moves on, life moves on, but yours doesn't. You get more and more afraid that you'll never be able to have the life you need in your heart. I'm 36. My biological clock started ticking with ruthless urgency at 22. And it hasn't stopped...do you get that? I feel it every day, all of these years, a physical pain when I see a child. A need that makes me ache and want to cry. It's a longing. It's real. And I have to watch you and just smile. It's hard. It's painful. It's my life. I take it. No one notices, really, and if I talk about it, they just say I'm jealous. So, just close my eyes, block my heart and deal. it. But 22 years old...that's when I got hips for the first time. And I'm able to gain weight now, in my 30s. Childbearing preparations? Or just a big joke? Because the other health issues didn't disappear. Eased up, but didn't stay away forever...back again now. I love pain. (No, I do not.) I don't care what the media says or not being included in the "mommy club" or people assuming I have no clue about children or life or whatever (I can prove them wrong, don't worry). I do care about how I feel and what I want. What my soul needs. I know what's best for me, I know how to be patient, I know how to put my pride aside and do what's best for another. I do it every day. No one has to tell me. So stop telling me...like you know me at all. Any of you. Everyone. Just stop. Listen. Try to see it through my eyes. I've said it enough times...

I miss them. My grandparents. My aunts and uncles. My friends. My dog and hamsters. And all the rest. There's so much I can say. But it won't take the pain away. It won't change anything. The past, the future. It comes and goes and we can't stop it.

I don't write this for anyone but myself. To get it out. Too much inside is poison. I'm glad some people identify with it and understand the complicated parts of me. I'm glad we can talk about it and comfort each other. I have no use anymore for anyone who wants to challenge me or put me down. I just don't care about them. I don't have anything in my heart for them. Forgive/love/pray for your enemies? No. They don't deserve it and I'd rather spend my time and love on the people who need it, the people who give my life meaning. I've let too many people have too many chances and gave and gave and gave, and put up with horrible abuse and toxic friends. Because I loved them and it was what I deserved. No more. I have no use for them. Maybe it's mean, but I don't want them in my life in any way. I don't care. I don't care. I'm not the person I was before, sorry. I've been through the fire, I've been through the worst of it, more than I could handle, I've been broken and put back together. Some pieces are missing, I'll never be whole. How can I? They're gone. But all I can do now is try to have some good in my life and enjoy what I can while it's here. Nothing lasts forever...

I know this.