Why?

It's the international question for curiosity. Like, why do bad things happen to good people? Why does everything happen? Why do hearts break? Why do people use one another? Why do people have reasons to want to hurt someone else? Why can't people be honest with one another? I honestly don't know the answers to any of these questions, but I wish I did. It would make living life so much easier.

Lately, I've been too angry to realize that I've started to become someone I'd hated for the longest time. I told myself that I'd stop cutting myself, and I have. That doesn't include bleeding in other ways though. Sunday, I was broken up with and I was angry because I felt as if I'd done something wrong to end the relationship; as if, I didn't do something to prevent it. Truthfully, it happened for a reason. In any case, after it was over for sure, I made my way back home to Orange County and played volleyball for a good four hours. It was perhaps the best workout I've had since playing at school. First, I played with the more advanced people because I like a challenge. Every ball was another reason for me to give it my all. Later, I played with the members from the youth group. Nothing changed there. They're much less experienced so that means I'd have to step up my game as well. Being a setter means I've got to touch every ball that goes into play. With every point on the line, I'd sacrifice my body so that we could get a play going. Whether it'd be diving across the entire court or just trying to get the ball back into play, I'd do it and it wouldn't hurt at all. It wasn't until I came home that I realized I was bleeding. I tend to play my best when I'm angry or upset, and I guess I just get a huge release from bleeding or feeling some sort of physical pain. That's probably why I'm such a masochist.

Pain is no stranger to me. She's always been by my side ever since I was a little girl. I was bitten by my old family dog when I was three. My sister threw a cynderblock on my arm when I was five. My cousin gave me a black eye when I was six. I was hit growing up for not obeying my parents right away. I was bullied and teased growing up from grade school all the way until college. I was told that I was a mistake and that I didn't matter to anyone by my parents as I was growing up. So, any type of pain is nothing new to me. I've just learned that physical pain hurt less than emotional pain. I've learned to endure it and not allow it to get to me anymore.

I've also learned that being angry at the world isn't worth it. The longer you're angry, the less time you have to be happy. We're only given so much time on Earth before leaving it.

I don't want to have hard feelings with you, but if it comes to it, nothing will be held back. I can't sit here and pretend that everything around me or that I am okay, because I'm honestly not. I'm trying to let go of what happened and it's really beginning to take a toll on me. It's taking all of my strength just to hold back what I want to say and to forget that so much ended in the matter of a minute. Of course it hurts me not to speak to you. I want to, believe me, I really do, but it'll just make it that much more difficult to get over you. I don't regret anything that I've said to you, because I know that some day you'll realize that I was right and you'll be hitting yourself wondering why it never worked the way you'd planned. I'd just hoped that my presence being excluded from your life would make you realize that I was just more than another person in your life, that I meant something more than just a regular friend. I don't hate you for what happened, but I can't say that things won't be completely different from here on out. I want to be friends with you, I honestly do, but I don't think that's possible anytime soon. I can be civil with you and exchange the occasional "hello" and "goodbye," but our conversations won't be as deep as I'd like them to be. It just hurts me that you find it so much easier to be honest behind a technological device rather than to my face.