I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm not in control of my emotions. I'm sorry nothing ever comes out like I mean it. I'm sorry I'm insensitive. I'm sorry that I hurt you. I'm sorry about a lot of things, but that never changes anything.
People glare at me when I try to explain how I'm feeling. They shout at me when I'm unresponsive. They snap at me when I twitch. They hiss sternly not to hurt myself and tell me not to be depressed with exasperation. They lecture me about the importance of being happy, although personally I've never found any of their arguments compelling, and sigh when I refuse to perk up. They're at their bitterest when they tell me I'm a good person. They never tell me why. I've yet to hear a convincing reason as to why I'm a good person that stands up to the opposite viewpoint. What kind of good person says, does the things I do? What use is being a good person anyway, if I'm depressed all of the time?
There was one person, once, who when I cut myself would cry and hold me and tell me that she loved me, and would stay up all night if she had to to talk me out of a depressive fit. I told her that I was hurting her and she should get out. I've long since forgiven her for walking out on me, but I've never forgiven myself. How can I?
It's occurred to me that I might get a sadistic pleasure from giving people the emotional runaround. With something like that haunting me, how can I have any faith in myself?
No. I can't turn my depression on and off whenever I want to. I can't control what triggers me, or the methods by which my alters switch out. Telling myself they don't exist does not stop them from hurting me. I cannot just "get over" deep emotional trauma. I go through so much that I never tell anyone about.
I don't want sympathy. I don't want special treatment. I just want people to know.
I don't love myself. Don't see how, really. Don't see much point. I thought that if I could love someone else, truly and completely, then maybe there was hope for me. Clearly I'm incapable of making a person happy. God? I've done all but ram my heart through his letterbox, but the most I've received in return is a pat on the back and some (stern) reminders to lighten up. My only option seems to be to keep going. Why? The only obvious thing I have to look forward to is more keeping going. But I can't complain, since I can already hear the condescending voices telling me to stop worrying, things will improve soon.
Times like this I wish I didn't believe in an afterlife so I could die with the assurance of some peace and quiet. It's almost a shame I'm not allowed to die just yet. I'm so tired.
I'm on the brink of a decision. Life or death. Forever. I'm going to have to choose. One way I lighten up, accept the love people have to offer, get more involved with the church, apply myself in school, graduate with honors, find a job that I love, marry when I'm thirty or so, have a daughter, and do meaningful things with my life. The other I throw myself into another abusive relationship, allow myself to slip further and further, take up self-harming, attempt an overdose, spend years in and out of institutions as my self-destructive urges grow and I become increasingly disconnected from reality, then finally slitting my wrists in the middle of the night, leaving memories of me to haunt all those who knew me. The first person to ask why only those two choices gets their teeth kicked in. You'd think this would be a simple choice. It's not, for me. It's becoming harder to distinguish between the two. It's becoming harder to distinguish between anything, if it comes to it; fantasy or reality, confidence or paranoia, impulse or logic, pain or pleasure. It's all... hazy. Kresh I'm screwed up.
I'm a love junkie. Witness my withdrawl.
1 comment:
Well that about sums up how i feel sometimes, most times...
it's nice to know i'm not alone though...
i had a panic attack the other night, i wrote something that made me sick with my self when the attack was over the next morning...
well here it is, it's called breaking down:
I’ve got to accept it’s all a lie, everything.
I only read to take the pain away, only this time it’s not working it’s hurting worse now…
It’s crushing me, right through the floor, it’s too powerful, and I’m too weak.
I’m shaking, why am I shaking?
It’s making me anxious, go away pain. Don’t come back please.
It won’t listen, I haven’t endured enough of it to earn its respect, and it won’t let up.
Someone save me. It’s burning me; it’s freezing my heart. My heart’s stopped and it’s too late, help me please. Someone stop this pain, it’s hurting me, I don’t want it please help me…
I’m still shaking, I’ve tried running away from it but it’s too fast it catches me off guard, I tried hiding in various novels, but it finds me there…
Pain, pain, go away don’t come back ever again. It’s not working.
I’m drowning here in the black bitter biting cold, breaking into nothingness of numbness.
You can break a piece off of me, break another, it hurts but that’s all I ever feel it’s no different from anything else. Break me apart and discard me, abandon me, loose me, throw me away, get rid of me… I’m useless, a useless pile of no good, a pile of rotten cold corpse, chop me up and put me in plastic bags away from you eyes, you won’t feel anything, you won’t know till it’s too late, you don’t understand. It makes me wretch at how pathetic I feel, throw me into the ocean and I’ll sink in silence no one will know, not till it’s too late…
Blackness became my friend down in the nothingness, it gave me dreams and feeling again, but now I hurt, it hurts again. Blackness is still my friend it still keeps me company alone in the obis of my blackened broken beating heart…
A drop of salty water is burning down my face, what is this, it hurts and it’s numbing to know I was the one to give it freedom, my tears my children, they fall free they swirl and play on a blank page of emotions.
S-stop breaking me please, it’s too lonely, I can’t be broken any more, I’m gone, I’m scattered. As if my mind wasn’t scattered to begin with…
I'm sorry if it upsets you, but i sorta lost control at the computer...
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