i keep having these things happen to me that remind me of a thousand other things, and all it makes me feel is that all of the problems i have in my life are due to my own pathological incompetence... and due to never being able to get anyone to ever understand me on a real level. it makes me resent everyone. every single person. there's always this point when i feel like i'm seen as this moody, needy, clingy person, who needs to be cut loose before i get too crazy or something. but i'm really not like that. all of the things i do, being too forward emotionally and injecting myself into people's lives are the same things that creepers and stalkers and crazy people do, but i don't do them for crazy reasons. i do them because i pretty much have to, or i'll be completely isolated and destroy myself. but no matter how hard i try, and all of the things i try to change, it still ends up that way. I end up with people that I care about that just kind of want me to exist in the background, or exist as long as I try not to be too important. i try too hard, and it ends up that way. i am just being myself, and it still ends up that way. all of the different circumstances and people that i've known, it has always ended up that way. i don't know if there's anything i can do about it. i even feel that way right now with someone i've known since i was 15. it's eating me.
so, what am i supposed to do? stop telling people that I love them, because that's seen as a weird thing, or stop going out of my way to poke people, because that's annoying, or stop trying to be close to people, because it's seen as clingy or creepy... i have to go back to -not- being myself. it's really fucked up and i don't know what to do about it. i feel like an idiot for even typing this, because it's pointless. reading this will make -you- feel weird. but i do it anyway, because i think i should. even though i know all those things.
i'll always be okay if i'm alone, but it's fucking miserable and painful as soon as you start thinking about your life. i get scared when i think that i'm probably going to be like this for the rest of my life. it makes me want to just fucking give up. not even because i think it's hopeless, but because i can't fucking stand how my own motivations are completely pointless in my -own- fucking life.
i have these meltdowns that, to other people, seem out of nowhere, dependent on my brain chemistry. dependent on my mood. i've thought about this since i was a child. constantly. it was never about wanting to be loved or respected, so much. i just want to know that i can share my own self with the outside world and not be isolated for it. i get pitied... i act as though i want pity. i convince myself i can change things. i never can.
so i pour it out on here. as if that really matters to anyone but me. but, that should be enough. the entire universe inside of myself, i'm fine with. i can live with that. the more i realize that i'm self-contained, perpetually walled-off from everything else; i don't want to live that way.
i'm not even so sure i have a real personality to anyone else. i've been through all these changes, and no one sees it. i've crawled up from a place in my own brain that was darker than anything i thought i could escape from. i haven't escaped, though. it's still the same. i try to impress people, and i feel stupid. i try to dumb everything down for people, and i feel stupid. i hold my tongue, and then later, after too much, i say what i really think. and i feel stupid. like these are all just different wants to ruin things. to get my hopes up artificially, just to finally realize.
and then there are the people i want to keep, and can't. i can't stand it. i really can't sometimes. whenever i start to think about any of them, i feel this pressure that terrifies me. i feel like i'm staring at death, and know it's pointless, and try to stop. it's not even that i'm thinking about a point of no return. it scares me because i feel like i could have done things differently, if i ever had a chance. people don't really give chances, though. they brand you with what you've done, and move on. kyla thinks i'm naive, dishonest, surreptitious, untrustworthy. amanda thinks i'm crazy, pathetic, angry, a delusional loser. jade doesn't care about any of it. at all. laura thinks i'm an antagonist, an idiot, a womanizer, someone who keeps trying, but is sorely lacking. cara decided to just pretend i don't exist, and hopefully i'll go away. jessica thinks i'm a creep who is just waiting for that day when i'll finally have a chance. andreanne thinks i can be a good friend sometimes, as long as she can get around the bullshit. christa thinks i can be ameliorated, an endless rollercoaster that, when i express my actual wishes for something, can be ignored because it's just pathology and weirdness. i had this specific thought, and it meant a lot to me. she read into it the wrong way, and just never answered. this one thought, which represents all of these things i'm writing about. i had a wish to actually feel humanly close to someone else that i trust to respect it, and nothing.
i tell myself these things when i think about these people. so, i try to stop thinking about people. i go back to the same battle of not wanting to be isolated. what bothers me so much about it is that if there were any real positive feelings in any of that, why can i just sit here for weeks and not hear anything. why is it that my opinions and wishes are meaningless when they impact something. why do i have to keep feeling like i've done something wrong.
i'm not going to try to reinvent myself anymore. it never fucking works. i can't keep facing these same things, and pouring it all out hoping it will go away. it won't. it must be some part of me that won't go away.
i have these moments where i feel happy, when i feel like there's something real. and then it's over, and maybe it was just me wanting to think it was that important. people just need another person, sometimes. not specifically me. the only use i have is as a blank piece of paper to talk at. sometimes, i wish everyone knew what that felt like. it's fucking horrible. how rarely i hear anything good about me, or positive, or admirable. no one would ever say anything good about me unless they thought i needed it in the moment, or felt like i was waiting to hear it. i am just waiting around to be noticed. no wonder i hate myself. how could i not. i rarely give my own opinions because i know that it doesn't matter. it's only whether or not what i do and say agrees with the other person. i get the illusion of give-and-take sometimes, but it's all projection and make believe. what about the real, tangible things that i need to feel like i'm real to someone else.
i won't sit here and wait, or find a reason to reach out. i don't feel sorry for myself. i feel angry and frustrated. like i'm the only person to ever live in the history of man that knows what that feels like, go to through this over and over endlessly for your entire life.
i can't successfully communicate with anyone. i always say the wrong thing. i push people away. i put my heart and soul into everything when i'm happy, until i meet this same wall. it's not just me. it's because on a deeper emotional level, no one really gives a shit about me. and even if that ends up being bullshit, there's a very real reason i feel this way. i don't want to float in the ocean, alone, anymore. i don't want all the token acts that are really meaningless. i've given up so much in my life because i only ever wanted something that felt real. learn to love yourself first. what a painful fucking joke. i don't want this feeling anymore.
i had someone, once. i was listening to a story about a girl that died, and her name in the story was Emily. and it was all i could think about. it was so random, and it tore me open. the end:
"Sometimes, I feel like she's still out there; but I know that she doesn't exist..."
The slow separation, that ends in a gestalt break between two people, when I realize I'm just a signpost; rather, I'm an empty cavity in the ground where a signpost would be if there was significance in it.
You don't see those holes from a few feet away. And then, you pass it, and you forget it.
we slipped away,
late in the night
thoughts that you stole,
described to me like
they were your own
I know I will
not ask too much;
just keep me occupied
tired and cold,
abandon their posts,
hiding out as we approached
skies opened up
Screamed at a flawless
Sun while we slept
I'll tell you I
will not look so
bored when you talk in your sleep
The cars on the road swerve,
and end up straight through our backs
we both awoke,
Brushed off the dust,
then we moved on
distant and dark
but they just bounced off
and grabbed our throats,
dragged us around, repeating this note:
I made this up
You ask too much
Now you're preoccupied
we stabbed a hole,
dark and alone;
mesmerized by graffiti tagged on the wall
when all was calm,
we submerged our arms
and encased them in pillars of glass