Writings and Rants

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Don’t Settle For What Doesn’t Make You Happy

by Thought Catalog

This post came to me when I just broke it off officially with a guy i’ve been dating and really hit home

Thought Catalog

Why do we do it? We meet someone, we are semi-interested, we exchange info. We go out a couple times. We’re still very “meh” about the whole thing. Yeah, he’s alright, we think. And he does everything right. He calls and texts (but not too much), he does sweet things to let you know he’s into you, he makes and keeps future dates, he opens up. So you let down your guard, you open up, too. And you admit to yourself that you like him. Maybe this time is different?

And then it happens. His calls and texts get shorter and more sporadic. You feel like you’re the one always initiating. And thus begins The Doubt Game. You question everything. Is he not texting as much because he’s more comfortable with me and doesn’t feel the need to, or has he lost interest? Should I call him, or should I…

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It all makes sense now:

by cracksinthecanvas

I realized this a few days ago and it’s not until now that I’ve really understood what I had to do.

I harbor resentment. Ever since I was a child, I never knew how to deal with wrongs done to me but I always expected people to be understanding of me and my feelings. My grandmother, who raised me, always told me to forgive but never taught me how to stop the hurt. And I would replay the bad things in my mind and the resentment and anger would build and build.

I’m 20 now and I’m still acting as if I were 12. I’m not perfect and neither are my friends or family. I hurt people just as much as they hurt me even though I don’t realize it. Instead of focusing on the things people have done to me, I should tell them how I feel and let it go. I thought I could,but I realize I do hold them accountable for the negative shit and don’t let go.

I just hope that the people I owe apologies to who have been met with the brunt of my bitterness will forgive and let go. By harboring resentment, all I’m doing is infecting hatred and negativity into all of my friendships and relationships.

Self, You’re about as profound as the shit in your toilet bowl

by cracksinthecanvas

I don’t know where all of this animosity is coming from. Maybe I’m jealous, envious of some of my friends. Sometimes things just come to them so easily, so effortlessly while I’m struggling. 

I have baggage, heavy baggage that seems to infect the relationships around me. I don’t know how to relieve myself of them and of this sickness that has always been inside me. 

There wasn’t any competition between us, but now there seems to be this unspoken thing. Always needing to be the “baddest bitch” or the brightest colored, or the most fashionable. To distract from my ugliness. The more skin I show, the less ugly I feel and that’s a huge problem. 

It’s a problem because I don’t think people will find me interesting or beautiful unless my hair is crazily colored, my outfits are eccentric, and my lips brightly colored. Being me, plain ol’ me, is something i don’t really want people to get to know. 

I am myself most when I am alone.

Summer ’13 has Begun

by cracksinthecanvas

Photo on 2013-05-19 at 19.14 #2 So much has happened since my last post, I don’t really know how to begin. I was completely happy, completely content with my life until Ken came into my life. Until I began to feel myself go down the rabbit hole of self-destructive insecurities. We used to be awesome, now I don’t really want to talk to him or be around him. Although I miss those nights when we’d kiss for hours and fool around, I don’t miss not knowing what to do with myself. Long distance relationships aren’t good for me.

My relationship with my friends have been kind of strained recently. I’m in this constant state of denial, of insecurity, of ambivalence and apathy, I’m not really sure what to do. I miss home a lot. I miss being around people who completely understand me and my ways. I miss not having to explain my actions or my thoughts all the time. I miss just being. Moody, sullen, me. Although I’m not always like that. I have a lot of great days, days where the sun is shining and I’m shining with it. I have days where I’m glad to be alive. I have days where I’m content with my life. But those days are usually cut short because negativity creeps in and ruins my mood, my mind, and my life for a while.

I should write more, but i’m already tired.


by cracksinthecanvas

I’m working on loving myself for all that I am.

My imperfections, my moles, my rolls, my sagging tits as well as my mind, my emotions, and my thoughts.

I’m working to be truly free.Image

Mom, I’m Sick Again

by cracksinthecanvas


For the past two weeks, I’ve been sick. It wasn’t until today that I went to a clinic to see what’s going on with me. I know I shouldn’t have waited so long, I prolonged my own pain, but the thought of going to a clinic alone was nauseating. Today I woke up and both of my ears were in pain and I just couldn’t deal with it anymore. Good thing I have good health insurance. A consultation and medication that would’ve costed 800+ dollars only cost me $4.08. I feel blessed.

Although my ears were in pain and I was sniffling down the sidewalk, I was happy. I had a pep in my step, I looked at the world around me with new eyes. Everything was muted because of my ear infection, so that made things a bit strange.

On the bus on my way home, I began to think of my mother. I haven’t spoken to her in I don’t know how long. I thought of all the pain and struggling she’s been through since I left home and tears began to well. I miss her. I’ve tried to refrain from saying it, but yes. I miss my mother. I felt guilty. While I was miles away in Chicago, finally happy, young, and independent she was back home trying to battle odds that are too powerful for her. I want to hold her, to talk to her. I want her to be happy like I’m happy. I want hear her laugh again. I want to talk to her. But I’m scared. I’m scared that hearing her voice, her sadness, her pain will diminish the happiness that I’ve finally obtained. I’m selfish. But, I’m only trying to survive.



by cracksinthecanvas

This love game is damned. It was damned from its origin in the garden of Eden and it will be damned to its inevitable end. The day love dies will birth the destruction of humanity.

A short piece of what I wrote tonight. Probably a good chunk of this was for therapuetic reasons. I had to write to clean out my system and I feel so liberated.

Photo on 2013-01-08 at 15.03Today was really good because I took a short break from texting people a lot today. Well, sort of. I mean, there’s one particular person I didn’t text which was fine. i think I needed some space to think about my feelings and shit about them. I’m just trying to ready myself for a relationship. Maybe? If things go well. But, then again, I’m not really trying to rush things. Today was a good day to self-meditate and do small little chores that took up time and stopped me from thinking for a bit.

I hope that I can figure things out as quickly as possible. Although the attention is fabulous, I know it won’t last until I make a decision. I just like the feeling of being wanted and desired. It fuels my ego and self-esteem. And, fuck it, sometimes I need that, too.

I’m still working to mend my torn heart but it takes tme

by cracksinthecanvas


Photo on 2012-12-27 at 12.42

It happened. He’s with his ex-girlfriend. Though he’s told me they’re just fuckbuddies/friends with benefits I know there’s something more stirring.

Initially, I was hurt (of course). Because of that, I had to distance myself from him a bit. Distancing myself was hard, but I had to do it for my emotional and sanity’s sake.I had to ask myself, “Why am I so upset that he’s with her? Wy am I jealous and sad and angry?”Delusion is a douchebag, thus I was a deluded douchebitch. Me and him and his girl hung out all day. Thrift store, drinking, movie theater, more drinking, and then finally back to his place. It was really fun. We stumbled into his apartment around 11pm. Conversed over shots and swigs of Smirnoff before she said that she was “really tired.” Which is code for them to go to his room and fuck. Which they did shortly after, but then he came back to the living room with me and we chatted for a bit. I told him he was my best friend.

After we said goodnight (again), he said:

“Love you.”

“Love you, too. And I really mean that”

“Me too, that’s why I said it.”

The last thing I heard before I went to sleep was them moaning in unison.

word-image relation; sexy

by cracksinthecanvas

i don’t know if i’m sexy. i don’t see myself as sexy. 

when i think of sexy, i think of effortless, i think sultry, i think smooth, and incredible attractiveness.

but then i began to rethink what sexy actually is and if my idea of sexy was influenced by society/media/culture and i found that it was. i see thinner bodies than mine and automatically think they’re perfect and more beautiful than bigger bodies. whenever i would see a girl of my size or bigger, i felt disgusted inside. i felt like i was as ugly as they were, if not worse. i never saw a girl like me and actually thought she could be beautiful without being skinny. that took me a long time to overcome and a lot of self-hatred had to be shaved off to think of myself as something as simple as “pretty.” it was a huge realization to me when i realized that i wasn’t ugly. that i was something so timid and modest as “pretty” meant the world to me.

and i’ve grown so much since then and i’ve developed a complete sense of who i am, but there’s still a part of me that doesn’t believe i’m attractive. there’s still the old me that’s complacent with being seen as pretty and another side of me that wants to go further and become gorgeous, confident, beautiful, and proud of herself and her sexuality. that is my ultimate goal. whether i’m seen as actually all of those things wouldn’t be a concern, as long as i felt gorgeous, confident, beautiful, and proud. 

i have yet to get there so. :/

Fresh Start

by cracksinthecanvas

I just finished talking to myself in a really bad English accent for about 15 minutes. It was really bad, I wish I had a voice clip to prove it. 

I made a blog because I missed having a place where all my thoughts are stored. I mean, who writes in a journal these days? (LOSERS, THAT’S WHO!) 

I’ll try to keep this anonymous as possible.