RE: Chaos Theory: Causing Hahvoc.
I don't know where you're going...
...But do you got room...
...for one more troubled soul?
So here's a slap of reality from a local mod as just a person with just as many or more problems as you- whoever you are- and for whatever reason you follow my journal entries:
I'm a mess. Seriously, I really am. Maybe some of you think I got this whole "life" thing figured all out and in part, I do, I've been through shit that made me take most things with a grain of salt and others with a shrug. I've met beautifully cruel people who waltzed in and then out of my life like a hurricane - leaving behind a disaster for me to make sense of- and the shock and awe of their passing left just as devastating of a mark. Maybe I'm heading towards my breaking point- it's happened before- and I don't know where I'll be going from here emotionally. In actuality, I'm starting to hate everything and everyone. Maybe not my friends but maybe just things about them. I feel like I don't know where I fit in anymore. Like I'm some novelty or vintage item that is nice to look at but no one ever really wants to keep. Man, like I'm sitting on a self in a antique store next to Tinkerbell figurines and a fat stack of old comics that have been forgotten about. Wouldn't that
suck?
So I'm spilling my guts out like I haven't done in quite awhile. I miss someone I never had a chance with and it eats me up inside: that the possibility, that potential, that
what if was burned out before it could even really spark. I let someone in- someone beyond the regular- and then they were gone. I'm not a walking corpse about it, but I feel like a wandering soul in a desert looking for that missing piece I gave away. And the bonus? I know I
can't get it back so why do I dwell on it? Why do I make myself suffer repeatedly for it?
Because it was more real to me than holding someone's hand. And fuck, I crave that emotional and soul-like intimacy like nothing else. I shared something I never shared before and yet I guard that secret self like a dog does a bone. I can't share it and yet I want to, so badly, to find someone to share that shit with. To be that way with someone again. The turmoil is what holds me back.
I'm depressed and angry, like I'm an angsty teen again but with so much more experience that my own emotions don't make sense to me most days. I used to have a cap on this shit, a firm grip on that leash, and now? Part of it is the hormonal roller-coaster of HELL that happens every full moon/shark week/Duchess of Agony visit from FUCKVILLE, USA/whatever you wanna call it but this is more than that. It's just a cry. A release of all the pent-up heartache and frustration to be spilled like blood from a broken-heart victim in the cardiac ward on the bedsheets.
At first, you're okay with the darkness spreading. It numbs you out and then you just get used to it. Others point out that it's starting to spread and you just shrug it off, telling them you're handling it, that it'll be fine. And then it sinks past the skin, into the muscles and bones, the tendons and veins, until it's in your organs, and very soul, and chewing away at the saner parts of your mind. Yet, you still pretend it's fine. Why?
Because it's so much easier than screaming.
I still have amazing control on my emotions- until I let myself
think and feel what's actually bothering me. I can be methodical, logical even, and list off all the things that bother me without even blinking. But we all know that's the numbed out process at work- the stoic pieces of ourselves forming a mask that bleeds into our skin and coats us like paint. This is what I've become an expert on doing - ridding myself of the agony emotions can bring. But it's not permanent. It's only temporary which I think saves me from myself at times.
People cry, we need to cry, and for others it's amazingly cathartic. For me, it's like ripping out chunks of flesh from my face and chest. It just plain hurts, makes my body feel heavy, and then I just feel strung out like I haven't slept in three days. The only thing about this that makes me feel even a modicum of better is what made me cry- the talking. The talking about what bothered me but not the crying itself. The crying is like an unbidden evil twin that sneaks up on you while you jot down all your secrets and it rips it all up in front of you- and laughs. It's something I try to avoid vehemently.
So here we are, maybe, at the root of the problem that is my life or my current predicament [whatever you wanna call it]. I can't even really talk about how lonely I am and how everything I've done doesn't feel like a waste but like I'm on an island of accomplishments while others are on rafts of happiness. It's like...my accomplishments will hold me up, keep me steady, but happiness...it's so hard to catch and hold onto, like a life-raft, you grip it with all you have and accept it like a blessing and miracle all in one. Who wants to be on an island by themselves? Hermits. Hermits and morons. [Well, I'd put morons there myself.]
Right now, I have nothing to be proud of. I did some great things awhile ago, somethings that are really hard to do, but the novelty of doing those things, of accomplishing those things, has worn off. What do I have to show for myself right now? I'm struggling just to get up every day. My cat is my literal motivation to getting up because I know he needs me, sometimes I cry knowing/seeing that he'll always be there until the one day he isn't. I can't think about that right now, though. It'll just destroy me and not really the point of this [ or maybe it is a little bit in part?].
I go to my library job every day and do the same old boring shit. That's probably part of the problem, honestly, the same old boring shit. I love my co-workers, don't really hate my job, but I don't love it. It doesn't motivate me to do anything. Maybe it's also because I know I'll be leaving it and the stress of being unemployed just weighs on me [though someone said to just toughen up and deal for a few weeks]. I don't really have any friends around here that I can rely on or even talk to about this shit- at least, right now it doesn't feel like I can. My ex-roommate texted me and I was honestly surprised. She tells me to text her and we'll hang out!...but she's the one without the job? I don't know, it seems off-putting that someone who has all this free time just expects me to just text them. It's like...if you're the one who's always free, why don't you try, I dunno, texting me first and seeing what's up on my end? I'm selfish, I know, and right now I'm just...I don't even want to interfere in her life. That's what it feels like, that I would be interfering. She's happy and I'm not, and I don't want my black cloud somehow touching her. Is that stupid? Probably, but then again I think a lot of who I am is a burden to most people - especially when they are happy.
Which kind of brings us around town, I think. I couldn't talk about my life with a friend last night because I'm in such a state that her happiness made me just...I don't really know, the only word I can think of is like ashamed of myself. Maybe not me, but what I've let myself and my life just devolve into. I get up, maybe watch TV, go to work, come home, and just watch more TV with my cat. It sounds bad but sometimes I really do just have to force myself to eat because it's not that I don't want to eat, I just have no real motivation to do so despite how good my cooking can sometimes be. [And that food in general, is delicious.] I'm exhausting myself again so that I can actually sleep for a few hours at a time instead of on an hourly basis. I don't really write anymore, and I've tried, and so I'm just trying little things to just get me to do
something different. I know I'm not happy, I know what I have to do to change some of the reasons, it's just...I lack the motivation which is such an off-putting concept for me when I've been motivated to become a scientist since I learned what that even meant! Maybe it's because...I don't have anything to really strive for. I want to improve but all my improvements are for me and myself. Who would they benefit besides myself?
I know I am awesome but there comes a point in which it's like...fuck, I have no one to enjoy all this shit with. I have no one to cheer me on from the sidelines. I have friends and parents, don't think I'm belittling having them or anything of the sort, but it's nice to just have someone in
my corner, waiting for me to come home. I'm lost, literally asking myself what the fuck was all this effort for, and yet I know I shouldn't be bitching this much [or maybe I shouldn't give a fuck at all about how much I'm bitching. Bitch, bitch, bitch!].
Maybe I am plagued by greed, needing and wanting more, but it's to fill my heart which has so many holes in it, not my wallet [though I could use more than a 10 in there]. I socialize every so often, but I know it's like taking a sip of what I need a gallon of. I stress over everything, and now, maybe I just need a break. I need a break from even myself. So many things need to change and yet, the daunting task of it all makes me feel like Jack against the Bean Stalk. I have the ability to climb up to the top if I can face the monsters above. But can I? Can I do that?
I've been doing things alone for so long that I don't know what I can or cannot do. I don't need anyone telling me those things at all because I know that I can do whatever I want. I just need something, someone, some inkling that whatever I want to do isn't pointless. That I'm a better person than this, that I'm a good person. That I'm worth more than just the bullshit I type about.
I'm just trying to find her.
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