If you have to lie to a friend, they cannot be much of a friend to begin with. Or not much of a friend to you. Not someone you would consider true friend. You don’t care much if you can lie to them.

You care even less when you allow the lies to settle. And fester. Grow. Hurt.

You care even less when your pride blinds you. A true friend knows humility. A best never has to be reminded of that fact.

Family should never have to be reminded of it either; more than any other person, family should love you enough to be humble. Immediate family at least. Family should love you. And care.

Love and caring for others is not about words. It is not about telling them that they are your best friend, best sister, best brother, best husband, best wife, etc…. It is about showing that love. Showing that you care. Showing that you care about their happiness too.

I show very clearly. To the point of being used. By everyone.

I am exhausted. I know how I am and that it is my own fault for allowing myself to be used to the point of exhaustion, but the other part of who I am just keeps trying to tell me to hold out. To hold out for that moment where they just ‘get’ it; and they see that all I want in return is to have someone care about me too.

I want to have a real reason to exist.

I miss them when they are gone. I would miss them if they were gone. I miss the ones I love and care about. I have true feelings, true.

I am aware that my ‘people-pleaser’ attitude is a result of my poor upbringing. I am aware that it is wrong to the extent that I allow. I am aware that a real, healthy relationship is comprised of give and take, trust, quality time, love, respect, honor, humility, and everything that is right. I have had and still have these types of relationships. In Texas…everything was better in Texas. I think I need to just go back home. No one would miss me here, but plenty miss me there.

I have a very real view of my self-worth. I know that at times it is not as it should, but those are genuine times of depression. I cannot be happy all the time; I have little to be happy for to begin with without having to be happy through the pain. But when I am not genuinely depressed, I know my self-worth.

I am good person. I genuinely care about people. I would give the shirt off my back to a stranger if they needed it more. I have faults, and often make excuses for those faults, but I have the humility to admit I am wrong to a friend or loved one. I have the humility to stop mid-fight and plea to reason; I have the humility to care about them even when I am hurting to my core. I love the company of good people. It is euphoric; the perfect drug. I love a nice day outside having good, clean fun. I love positive energy. I love good, thought-provoking conversation. I love losing time in good conversation because everyone bounces off everyone. I love making good memories.

All we can take with us wherever we go when we die is our memories. Our psyche. We can’t take things, or even our own body; why do we spend so much time trying to posses, beautify, and treating others poorly when we are not even guaranteed tomorrow.

It hurts I cannot tell them I love them every day. Because it gets used. It is not treasured like friend or family should. It is not valued.

Why?

I understand that I cannot grasp the idea of a thwarted mind. I understand that I will never understand. But that does not stop me from asking. It does not stop me from having the thought. I can’t help my thoughts sometimes. Though I know I actually can; that is the difference between me and the thwarted mind: I know I can, but don’t, whereas the thwarted mind does not see any error and therefor, no reason to change.

But I work harder each day. To fight my demons, and to resist temptation. I can’t seem to soothe my soul anymore and it is restless. It hurts more than I can express in words. My tears don’t even show my real pain. Because I have to be strong. Because if I fall, I fall; there is no one to help me, pick me up, to lean on, or to notice I’m even gone.

Sure, I want to be loved, but not at the expense of myself. Because that is NOT love! Newsflash people: if they only love you when you do for them or when you are not you, they do not love you! You know as well as I do that you have been loved for you; why change yourself for someone else and despise who you are? I want to be able to live with myself because I have to or else cease to exist. I battle with the demon of giving up, but I am so determined to find another way. I am determined to love myself and trust myself. I am determined to be able to live with myself.

And I can live with myself. When I am myself. I don’t like myself sometimes and even annoy myself at times, but I don’t feel like giving up when I am myself. When I can be me, I am happy.

And that’s why I was happy. I thought I could be more than just myself; I thought I could be me completely. At all times and that someone ‘got’ that. Someone understood me more than anyone else could. I thought in understanding me, inherently, they would not use me. Or lie to me. Or hurt me.

An apology has to be more than just words.

They choose to say nothing anyhow.

And not that I would accept just an apology; that goes against as I already said, that it has to be more than words, but when you leave shit on the table and don’t tend to it, it festers. It grows and smells. I will not have that anymore. Either answer up and own your fucking actions and words or wallow in your self-hatred.

You cannot love someone who does not love themselves (just as you have heard it said that you cannot expect others to love you if you don’t love yourself). You cannot help someone that does not help themselves.

You cannot allow yourself to be used. By anyone.

I am a good friend to have and a good sister. I care. I listen. I act. I try. I help. I give. I take action.

And all I ask is two things: don’t lie to me, and show me you care. A child can do that.

Don’t say you care and then act like you don’t. Don’t say you care and then use me. Don’t say shit and then prove yourself to be a liar. I will not stand for it. Never have, never will; if that makes me a bad person, so be it, but I don’t think it does. I don’t feel like a bad person. Because I am not a bad person. Actions speak louder than words; that will never change. In the very least, get help; if you can’t make your actions match your words, get help.

For the sake of the ones you claim to love. Prove it: get help.

I know a few people that need help. I don’t know if they will ever get it, or wait until it is too late. My biggest fear though is that they will give up completely. Because there is nothing I can do to prevent that. And it sucks. I know that people can only help themselves and allow others to help them if they want, not if you want.

But I want them to be happy to. What good is my happiness if I cannot share it? What good is it if I cannot revel in it with fellow friends and family? Maybe I am looking at the wrong side of the truth though; perhaps I need to find those that I can indeed share it with. I can eventually learn to accept that after training my brain to do so, but I can’t bring myself to do that to my sister. It kills me to lose people that I truly, deeply love, but they hurt me–I can accept the truth eventually there, but with my sister, it is too hard to let go. I should not have to let go; she is family. I do love her and want her to be happy and free of her thwarted mind. It is never easy to let go of people that you have opened up your heart to, but it should not have to be a thought to let go of family.

I am alone, but it’s how it has to be right now. At least I can be happy. And not lost or disassociated from the world.