Nov 2016
I've been long removed from myself
Busied by this
Distracted with that
Hoping I've come to terms with myself
I glance into the mirror
And I crumble into 46 pieces
Each one more indistinguishable than the next
I am afraid and alone and afraid
So I am not okay
And it's not okay
But that doesn't change anything
Because I can't be okay
I haven't the time or the energy to spend being anything less than fine
I'm a mess
And not in the I-have-2-huge-papers-due-Monday sort of way
But more like the miserable worthless emptiness is all consuming and I feel too much and none of it is worth feeling
And I'm questioning the little bits that I had chosen to cling to so desperately
I am unsure and confused and terrified
Alone and afraid and alone
It's this vicious cycle of trying to be with people, being with people and feeling like an unnecessary presence, nodding my head dumbly without contributing anything of value to the interaction, then returning to my alone with an even further degraded feeling
I am hurt and it is hard
And I have been told that I am strong
I do not feel strong
I feel very weak and helpless and hopeless and scared. I am a child alone in the darkness shaking from the nightmare that I can't wake from
I try to be strong and supportive
I help other people as much as I can, I try to give and give and give and I am empty but I feel so I keep on giving what I don't have and I'm drained and hollow and I still need to keep giving because what if I stop what if I stop I can't stop giving because then what would happen I would cease to be and that terrifies me I can't stop but I can't continue and I am alone and afraid and I have people that care about me and that makes me feel one million and three percent worse about myself because for whatever reason there are people that give a **** about me and I love them for that but couldn't they just not care at all wouldn't that be easier if no one cared at all????? My feelings do not align with my thoughts. I know one thing and feel all the others. I hurt and I hurt and I feel and it is striking. I want to make beauty out of this muck that I so rarely allow myself to acknowledge. People have made beauty and colors from this emptyness then here I am with my head full of snot and the salt tracks sticky on my face as I'm breathing through my mouth which I hate and I just type nonsense into this meaningless emptiness and I stop. I'm hurting and I hate it. Other people are hurting and I hate it. The world is hurting and I don't understand how everyone doesn't hate it. I say hate too often, it's a word best reserved for Hope. Hope is the ******* that deprives in the same breath with which it revives. I **** its promise of future as surely as it damns me.
Busied by this
Distracted with that
Hoping I've come to terms with myself
I glance into the mirror
And I crumble into 46 pieces
Each one more indistinguishable than the next
I am afraid and alone and afraid
So I am not okay
And it's not okay
But that doesn't change anything
Because I can't be okay
I haven't the time or the energy to spend being anything less than fine
I'm a mess
And not in the I-have-2-huge-papers-due-Monday sort of way
But more like the miserable worthless emptiness is all consuming and I feel too much and none of it is worth feeling
And I'm questioning the little bits that I had chosen to cling to so desperately
I am unsure and confused and terrified
Alone and afraid and alone
It's this vicious cycle of trying to be with people, being with people and feeling like an unnecessary presence, nodding my head dumbly without contributing anything of value to the interaction, then returning to my alone with an even further degraded feeling
I am hurt and it is hard
And I have been told that I am strong
I do not feel strong
I feel very weak and helpless and hopeless and scared. I am a child alone in the darkness shaking from the nightmare that I can't wake from
I try to be strong and supportive
I help other people as much as I can, I try to give and give and give and I am empty but I feel so I keep on giving what I don't have and I'm drained and hollow and I still need to keep giving because what if I stop what if I stop I can't stop giving because then what would happen I would cease to be and that terrifies me I can't stop but I can't continue and I am alone and afraid and I have people that care about me and that makes me feel one million and three percent worse about myself because for whatever reason there are people that give a **** about me and I love them for that but couldn't they just not care at all wouldn't that be easier if no one cared at all????? My feelings do not align with my thoughts. I know one thing and feel all the others. I hurt and I hurt and I feel and it is striking. I want to make beauty out of this muck that I so rarely allow myself to acknowledge. People have made beauty and colors from this emptyness then here I am with my head full of snot and the salt tracks sticky on my face as I'm breathing through my mouth which I hate and I just type nonsense into this meaningless emptiness and I stop. I'm hurting and I hate it. Other people are hurting and I hate it. The world is hurting and I don't understand how everyone doesn't hate it. I say hate too often, it's a word best reserved for Hope. Hope is the ******* that deprives in the same breath with which it revives. I **** its promise of future as surely as it damns me.
