Hi! Um...I don't like sharing who I am usually, but I just need to rant a little. I'm sorry to whoever has the misfortune of reading this. I just really wish I wasn't me right now. It's not okay. It's not okay at all, and that, everyone (I'd say my friends but I'm hardly close to anyone on here, and part of me chooses to remain that way, for reasons you'll soon come to acknowledge), is something I've fought endless years to let go of -- that thought that it would be okay and that I could one day feel what it's like to be greedy with my happiness.
Spoiler: it's never happened.
It has been a decade and in all that time this ungodly, self-deprecating creature with non-tethered emotions and irrational fears that I am has refused to move on. I may have forgotten the faces, but the pain those faces have caused is still fairly fresh.
The events of the past have made it so that every time I feel my hopes rising, something brings me right back to where I started. Never can I seem to catch a break. Never do I stop crying, worrying, fidgeting, ripping apart my own skin (literally! I've made myself bleed!). I'm being driven insane! You see, whenever one circumstance passes, another's just around the corner threatening to swallow us up, swallow me up. I know this, because it always happens. What's more is that I have little to no motivation to do anything but stare up at the ceiling. I supposedly have a good life and I'm letting it all waste away. I'm so overwhelmed, so tired, so depressed, and so fed up.
I wish I could sleep forever, then I wouldn't have to worry about what happens now and what happens later. I'd only know my dreams. (Although I wonder if I'd even be allowed to enjoy them should I ever slip into desired coma -- if only for a little bit, le sigh...)
I'm so lonely, but I can never leave my home, for my home is safe and the people out there always stare and snigger at me. At least for someone with all this pent-up anxiety and all these emotional problems it feels that way. I'm not even sure how to talk to people anymore, and at times I don't want to. All people do is belittle my words and feelings anyway...why should I speak to anyone? Why should I risk that rejection for the umpteenth time, as if it would give me any satisfaction?
Oh yes, that one time I was able to walk up to someone without freaking out and blushing and stammering really made me feel proud of myself...well, maybe for a minute, just before that little voice inside of me kicked in and said that it didn't make me any less worthless. Even if I did end up with a friend I could confide in, it would only be a matter of time before I started to distance myself from them, before I started to hate them...and myself.
Then again, that would be no different from now. Now, here's how my brain works. It argues that I'm lonely...my fiance can't always be my source of comfort...and I'd really like a friend...but I just...I just can't do it. I'm lacking something required in order to thrive in today's society: courage.
I'd like to think that if I wasn't so panicky I'd have a job and a license and not have to depend on my beloved for everything and we could move out and say au revoir to this stinky old place, but I know it's impossible. Like I said, I'm not courageous...just repetitive.
A bit off topic, but just to clarify, that comment I made about our apartment was said affectionately. There are issues, not that I will name them, though you can probably guess what I'm alluding at, but they always come up when you live with family, or anyone, and at the end of the day I can tolerate it. It's money that keeps me up at night more than anything. Money for a car, money for a house, money for bills and expenses, money we don't have. Anyway, my fiance promises our hard work is about to pay off, which is great if it does indeed happen. What can I say but that I'm pessimistic? I'm sure you got that from this silly little story of mine, though
Ugh! ajkksdlsk;d;d!!! It's so stupid!
My conclusion is that it doesn't matter who I'm with, if I'm alone or in the company of someone I deeply cherish, if everything is going well and we're doing all we can, if we're there; I'll still feel like the lowest scum on the planet. I know I probably should get some help, but I've tried multiple times already to reach out with no success. I no longer trust people to fix me, whether with psychological evaluation or with medication. Or even just a sincere smile. Sadly, though, I don't think I'm capable of doing my own healing, either.
It's so much fun being both an adult and a mental case, you know. Yippee!...
tl;dr: Welcome to another of my pitying parties in which I contemplate the things normal for me but that which if you were in the same situation would freak you the hell out...ha ha ha...oh