latidacaitlin

She’s part faye and a little rowdy, and yet she cares so much it makes her spirit explode sometimes…you can’t make everyone happy…you can’t help everyone…there are too many people…it is so overwhelming…and yet right when she finds herself coming up from the pits of the deepest waters gasping for that little millisecond of air she remembers who she is and who she isn’t. Who she is, is the girl who will desperately yet willingly and even more so ultimately save the world…she is the girl who constantly remembers the pain that most suffer…the girl who pictures the children in her head smiling after she hugs them or plays with them…or compliments them…or just gives them words of encouragement of hope…what she isn’t is a girl who allows worldly things to get her down…silly emotions that weigh her mind down to where she can’t focus on what is most important, saving the world.

She sees a butterfly as she passes the swingset, the cool air chilling her naked skin as she closes her eyes and remembers who she is. She is part faye, her soul is entertwined with the majestic…the imaginary world of not necessarily make believe…but make it happen…of giving hope of fairy tales and knights in shining armors…and genuine love…and genuine friendship…and people who care… as she opens her eyes the butterfly transforms into a faerie that winks at her and she knows…

she is home.

It was strange to me today when Preston said that he thought there was a problem with empathy across our campus…that people only helped because they wanted to do the “good thing” but they never actually stopped to look at the viewpoint of the other person…trying to feel their pain as if it could be them in their situation… this bothered me greatly because I honestly didn’t know that existed…people just doing “good deeds” to do them… I guess I just assumed that everyone who volunteered was someone who did it because they did understand that that could be them…

a friend of mine tonight gave a kid that I have been helping for the past few months $500 dollars to help him try to fix his car… as we were walking back inside the apartment he shook his head and said “what is wrong with you people” and I stopped walking, and turned around, looked at him and said… “what? what is wrong with us? …no…this is how the world should be…caring and helping everyone that we can… the real question is what is wrong with our world that we are SO effing selfish that all we care about is ourselves and immediate family.”

and with that I walked inside. I didn’t say it mean…but that just saddens me that he said that… as though it’s weird and uncommon for people to be so willing and feel this immediate need to help.

Well…maybe Preston is right…maybe this generation has a problem with wanting to do the “good deed” over realizing that THAT could be them… See, the problem with doing a “good deed” is sometimes that can turn into us feeling “sorry” for the person …or pity… but that isn’t why we should help… people don’t need our pity… people need our help…people need to know that we understand that the world is hard as hell and things don’t go right all the time… the world needs us to know that we understand that THIS could be us…this could happen to us… and through that knowledge and understanding that is why we want to help…

I say we all give where we can. If the most you can do is just be a good tipper…be a damn good tipper because you never know what the person behind the smile is going through at home.

This is what I live for.

Let’s all live for this

I find my true writing spirit shows up when I’m highly depressed, and then the ultimate fact of that dawns on me and I realize how utterly pathetic I must truly be.

What is it truly within us, or maybe just myself, where we constantly create our own ridiculous dramatic events. At first we want icecream but then we see that we’d actually prefer it with sprinkles…which is silly because sprinkles don’t even really have a taste and it doesn’t add anything to the icecream but color.

I constantly keep finding myself alone and I can’t help but realize that maybe I am the beneficiary to this fact. Maybe I am a spoiled ass brat. Maybe I am a nagging bitch. Maybe I am crazy. Maybe I am a shitty friend. Maybe I am a piece of shit. 

I grew up living my life through books, and I believe that is where a lot of my problems come from… I want the reality behind the fiction to come to life. As ridiculous as it sounds I want a love like Christian Grey and a magic necklace like Gemma Doyle, and maybe that is where I keep going wrong…for what are fiction books really but others, like myself, coming up with this fictitious way they wish their lives were as well.

It was just a text for crying out loud.

and yet some of us find our fairy tales. Caitlin Gouge is a needle in that haystack. But honestly we all deserve to be needles and say EFF YOU HAYSTACK!

Then some of us yearn so desperately to be that needle that we don’t realize that we are not only that damn needle but we’ve been far out of that freaking haystack for so long …and then we fuck up and BAM…we are right back in the haystack awaiting the next moron who decides to get pricked.

You think, that with the last time, I’d learn that words hurt and regardless of how hurt you yourself are feeling…that doesn’t give you the jurisdiction to say what you feel necessary to make the other person hurt.

Sometimes, I hate that I’m a writing major for this reason.

Sometimes, I’d be okay with being a simple girl who didn’t really have a brain and cared about my nails and nice clothes…because then I wouldn’t have the capability or mind capacity to hurt the people I love all the fucking time.

and I mean that.

The bathroom floor was cold beneath her face the tears creating a pillow, drenching her hair as the faerie came down and kissed them away telling her that in the end, all things will be okay.

I find myself a different person from two months ago. I find myself more at ease, less trifling, and less caring. Not uncaring in the sense that I don’t want to save the world anymore. No, I still do, and will. However, uncaring as the talking…the nagging…the constant fight…the this, the that, none of it really phases me anymore. None of you, yes you, you don’t phase my anymore. So pick a fight all you want, my hands are up, I just am living. I’m exhausted and tired of the petty games. Children, is what I take care of, I won’t put up with dramatic children who just need to learn to grow up.

Maybe if you get the picture that I really don’t care anymore, maybe you’ll finally disintegrate. Nothing I ever do is going to be good enough anyhow, so why try to please anyone at this point? I have said it several times in the past two weeks and I will say it several more if need be.

I love myself. I love everything about myself. I love my heart. I love my passion. I love my addiction. I love my face. I love my hair. I love my body. I love my brain. I love my stupid moments where people wonder how the hell I got a full ride to Maryville College. I love my kids. I love Robby. I love Joe. I love the friends I no longer even have, just as much as the friends I have all the time. I love my mistakes. I love what I want to do for the rest of my life. I love my apartment. I love my volunteer placements. I love my attitude. I love my bitchy side. I love my apathetic side. I love my personality. I love that I’m easy to get along with. I love that I intimidate people. I love, freaking, love, me.

and I think that’s why I don’t care anymore. life is. it always will be.

and I love it,

thank you.

People are only as strong as they make themselves believe. I had a moment of weakness last night that hasn’t happened to me in a very long time. Months maybe. It is that moment where you’ve held all of the pain within this teeny tiny box in the very back of your left brain, completely forgetting it is there until something lights the tiny string poking out of the box and in a matter of minutes it ignites and tears stream down your face.

and out of nowhere you lose it. You start thinking about everything. About how hurt you really are and how much you miss it.

Happy Birthday again, by the way.

and that is really all I can say at this point in time as I sit here craving a margarita to sweetly slide over my taste buds. I’m craving a lot of things right now I would love to get lost in.

But it just so happens most of those things are out of my reach at the time.

I’ve been so hesitant lately. Ridiculously hesitant and completely guarded. I’m starting to finally relax, and once again, completely let myself go in this “in love” stage in my life. I was heartbroken Sunday night at what I had heard and I getting in my car I looked at Robby and asked “can anyone make it to forever?”…and of course as if right on cue he looks at me with the most sincere look of hurt and with promising words replies “yes. us.”

Dancing in the moonlight, everybody is feelin warm and right. it’s such a fine and natural sight everybody’s dancin in the moonlight

dancing with you in the street to this song made me the happiest I have ever been. I’m so close. so incredibly close.

“She starts clenching her fists again, relaxes them and starts rubbing her fingers…anything she can do to not demolish them with her teeth as she stares at him. 

“I can’t do this” is all she can barely croak, her voice still raspy and choked from the tears. 

“I won’t let you go. I will love you forever and that is the end of it” he says as he walks out of the room leaving her there with nothing more than her thoughts that completely cloud her mind, unraveling every fear she has enveloped in the past few months. Every wall she has built …to keep it out…to keep him out…betraying herself and capturing her within those walls…

everything she has worked hard for to become this cold, apathetic person, that can’t be tortured with desiring pain…

breaks. 

completely breaks 

and there they come. the tears. the hope. the recognition that more than anything she wants him. 

she sleeps as all the dolls watch her. “