Been missing in action once again, I often wonder how many people notice when I’m gone. I’ve just moved into my 4th room of the year, and although one can never really run from their problems, a change of scenery can often help. But many times I wonder if it’s a mistake. 

I’m still sad for many days at a time, and then gradually, but suddenly, I’m happy again. And just like that, gradually and then suddenly, I’m sad again. I’m quite frequently confused about the sort of person I am. I find beauty in sadness, though. 

I’ve watched my mother go from being my mother, to being a shell of what used to be a person. Or maybe she’s really never been a person and now she’s tired of acting. One can never really tell. I just can’t imagine how painful it must be to be her. I don’t blame her, but I wish she realized what she’s actually worth. And I think that’s why I’m angry with her. But her mind takes control of her and just like that, from being a normal person to being your worst nightmare in the blink of an eye. She must scare even herself. Sometimes I wonder what the voices say to her. 

Still unsure of what I want in life so until then I sit here and let the time pass me up. I’ve been practicing my writing, can you tell? Probably not, maybe I should write a book. Yeah, probably not. But anyways, writing was my first passion, photography my second. Although, I’ve been fairly uninspired lately.

Sometimes I feel as if I like being sad. I have plenty of reason to be sad but I don’t think I’m actually sad about any of those reasons.
It’s just a certain kind of sadness, it brushes up against me like moths in the night looking for light. Chasing the moon and never reaching it, how sad they must be.
Like I crave that sadness, like how the sun must miss the moon so much.
Who am I really? Sometimes I feel like such a horrible person. You know, butterflies can’t see their own wings, they’ll never know how beautiful they are, they’ll only see the beauty in others. Maybe we’re all like butterflies.

I’m lonely, but I’m scared I like being alone. The idea of being alone with myself terrifies me, but I like it. 

And no one around me understands what it’s like to be sad, for no reason, but for so many reasons. To just cry because you can, because you crave that loneliness. 

(Source: zoeslabyrinth)