Tequila & Birdcages

Time to go |amanda|

I'm not sure if anyone will relate or if it's a bit too 'niche' truly the definition of a vent post but I'll post a happier one right after lmao

To Be Loved & Strangers By Nature - Adele
TW: mental health (depression, anxiety, etc.), mention of yelling/arguing

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I zone out for a moment as she continues to argue, not meaning to get so distracted. It's what I do, disassociate to cope, most times I can't even control it. I find anything to get my attention so I don't get overwhelmed. This is probably the fifth time we've argued this month, it's only the second week of May. I'm not sure what it is that we can't express to each other but I do know that none of what is being communicated is any good.

I can't say who's at fault, that wouldn't be fair. It takes two to tango and we've been doing this dance on the tight rope for a while. "Are you listening to a word I'm saying?" she asks me and my gaze slowly returns to her from where it was previously on the floor. I hadn't even noticed my head dropped but I guess it doesn't matter now, she noticed. I sit on the couch while she paces, "you're so... calm about this, like it doesn't even matter to you" she scoffs.

I'm not calm, not in the slightest. I've just learned that it's easier to protect myself if I don't react; which seems contradictory considering I got us into this. I've partially forgotten what the argument is even about with all my thoughts buzzing around but at this point it's irrelevant. I mentioned something to her, we disagreed, and somehow a discussion turns into a debate which becomes some type of argument.

It's tiring in a way, I was raised not to talk back or make a fuss about things so this has been unusual for me. However, given that I was silenced all my life — I found my own voice later on. I try to be upfront, as honest about my feelings as I possibly can. I know I can be difficult, I suppose some would say abrasive at times, but living life only knowing extremes makes it hard. I either let everything go or I take everything in.

I can never seem to grasp what it is that makes us so divided on things. It's like we can never find common ground on what feels like important discussions to me. I know it would be easier if I just agreed to disagree, if I was passive, if I didn't take things so seriously; but that wouldn't be authentic. I'm tired of mirroring the personalities of those around me to survive and be accepted.

"All of this over... what?" she speaks up again, "I don't really know" I sigh in defeat. "No, I want you to tell me. I'm trying my best to work with you here but..." "but I'm making it hard? We can just forget it" I shrug. "I don't want to 'forget it', can't you just- I don't know, try harder to explain?" she asks as she falls into the arm chair tiredly. I've explained it countless times but I've accepted that it'll never makes sense.

Maybe that's the way it's meant to be, that I can only understand myself. I don't mind missing out on external validation, it's the understanding that I crave. I want someone to know me inside and out in the most poetic sense. If I were to pray, I would pray to find a person that will take my mind and cradle it in their hands; tell me that I'm not irrational, or dramatic, or overreactive for feeling things so deeply.

I tried to build the perfect house for love to grow, bricks molded by hand, blood making them red; cement mixed with my tears. I've been doing this for as long as I can remember, only wanting to be cherished the way I do for others — at least I've tried. I anticipate their every move, find out what they like and what they don't like, what makes them tick, everything I possibly can.

Maybe that's why I can't remember sentimental things like birthdays. My memory is full from every other day of the year; in each and every one, Amanda is always special to me. If I didn't have that precious day on my calendar, circled in her favorite color with stars drawn lazily around it as I daydreamed of her, I probably wouldn't remember. Suddenly it dawns on me that the little girl in myself that I've tried so hard to nurture, she's making her appearance again.