When the tears come…

Streaming down your face… When you lose something you can’t replace… When you love someone but it goes to waste… Could it be worse?

Day in, day out, day in, day out.  I get up, shower, get dressed, go take my meds, I do my work, I get in Game. I talk to my friends–wait. No. I can’t say that.  I thought I did.  Tired, angry, sad.  … Hurt.  I think since I started writing here I have begun actually using the word hurt a little more.  I hate that word.  I hate admitting that I hurt.  I hate admitting that things make me feel physically ill when they emotionally affect me.  But they do. I feel my heart pounding in my ears and behind my eyes, my chest, and my hands get cold.  My hands shake, and it feels like trying to breathe in a sauna, my lungs not able to fully take in enough air.  I get this burning pain from the sides of my stomach in up under my ribs and through my diaphragm that shoots directly to my back and up.  And I start to shiver.  Then the watering. The eyes start to glaze in anger, and I fight the tears.  I hate crying.  And I hate crying in anger, because people always assume that I cry because I’m sad. I’m not. And all I want is to scream.  It feels deep inside that I need to scream. And the entire time, the nausea is building.  I wish I could turn it all off. I want so bad to be able to turn it off. I need to find a way to turn it off.

Tears stream down your face when you lose something you cannot replace…  Tears stream down your face.  And I… Tears stream down your face… I promise you I will learn from all my mistakes… 

I have friends that I used to spend a great deal of time with. We did things in our game together.  I went out of town recently and came back to be replaced.  It felt like I had been punched in the gut.  I was flat out told that I had been replaced.  Another member of the group swore up and down that was absolutely not true.  And then tonight they immediately began doing things with that new group.  And he is upset that it bothers me.  He doesn’t understand why it feels like it had been a lie.  Whether or not it was–I’m not saying that I disbelieve him, I’m sure he did not mean it to be–it still feels like one.  I am trying to not let it bother me.  I try so hard to not let things bother me. And to be normal. But it just doesn’t work.  I shouldn’t be here.  I never should have been here. Granted, I have no misunderstanding at how easily I am replaceable. And it in no way surprises me that I was replaced. Just, it caught me off guard, I guess. I just thought I had found a group of friends that would at least stick around for a while. But I should know better. I should always know better. I am not a friends-type person. People can only put up with me so long.  Hell, I can only put up with me so long.

When you try your best but you don’t succeed… When you get what you want but not what you need… When you feel so tired but you can’t sleep… Stuck in reverse…

I should not be here. I never should have been here.  Why am I still here? I can’t figure that part out.  I don’t want to be.  But every day. I get up. I shower. I get dressed. I take my meds. Rinse. Repeat.

Lights will guide you home and ignite your bones…

I want to give up.


I got nothin’

No music. No sound. Just an empty void. When one of our family members dies, we find ourselves distraught, angry, sad, in despair.  Sometimes we just shut down. Sometimes we lash out.  Numbness can take over. I think I do all of these. Sometimes we just turn off. I’ve done this, too.

I just lost someone SO important to me. And I keep swaying between devastated and numb. Shut down, just semi-non-responsive. One word, often fake, answers. I don’t want to get out of bed. I have, because I have to. But most certainly not because I want to.

I keep thinking over and over that there was something else I could have done. If I’d responded and acted sooner, or been more aware. I feel like I’m a bad person, a horrible person. Like it’s my fault. But isn’t it always?  Just this time it hurt too much. I can’t handle this.

Death doesn’t affect me a good chunk of the time, because it’s part of life. Part of the way things should be. We need death to give life meaning. But this one hit me hard. It’s weird to me. If it means that life has no meaning, then fine. I’m okay with that if she hadn’t died.

And while we’re on the subject of death.  Passing, moving on, crossing over. Come on. They died. DEAD. I never understood the purpose of trying to make it sound more special and eloquent. Is that how I mean it? I’m not really sure, to be honest. Eloquent. Hm. Maybe. But I DO mean that it’s more honest to say that they died. Call me crazy (no pun intended), but I feel it is more respectful to the dead to show that you know that they lived.

I just… for the first time in a very long time, there is no music in my head. No good music, no bad. No earworms, nothing on repeat. The radio is off, I have nothing to hum.  I may be depressed, but right now I simply feel like my heart is being eaten by maggots. A constant gnawing that constricts the blood flow to my lungs and makes them clench tight.

I just keep hoping I will wake up and it will all be a nightmare.

But I know I won’t.

Everything falls apart.

Even the people who never frown eventually break down.  The sacrifice of hiding in a lie.  Everything has to end. You’ll soon find we’re out of time left to watch it all unwind. The sacrifice is never knowing.

I push and pull and fight and cry. I go out of my way to try to NOT cause problems. So it is not often that I actually DO stand up and speak my mind. Yes, yes. I bitch and moan. That is not something I will ever pretend that I do not do. A good bit ago I stood up to a friend and told him WHY I was mad at him. WHY I was so angry and hurt by what he had done and said. And the over all extent to the damage he had done to our friendship and how. I was blunt, I was as succinct as I could be. I realize in retrospect that I was an idiot to think that I had any right to stand up and say my piece. More than one person told me I was wrong for speaking my mind. One of them claiming to be objective, but I know, as much as she may have tried, was skewed toward her friend. The older, better friend. Which, I understand. I will fervently defend my friends at all costs. I have. That is part of the issue with this entire situation. I was put in the middle and forced to choose a side.

I’ve tried, like you, to do everything you wanted to. This is the last time I’ll take the blame for the sake of being with you.

She spent an entire night making me feel like I was wrong for standing up and speaking my mind based upon information from a warped, angry, and hurt viewpoint that was just short of a lie. All without asking me for the truth. I didn’t even realize until several hours later, but by then it was too late. I had spent the entire night decimated. Fuck it hurt. It still hurts. I don’t want to be the “More Important Friend.”  That is not the point. I guess it’s more that I’m constantly being told to stand up and say no. Being told to speak my mind. And then when I do. It is wrong. I made a decision based on the fact that I was being forced to choose between sides. And I chose the side that was NOT making me choose. The side that was NOT making me feel like shit because of the other side. And I would make that decision again. And I was very clear about that. But, as I have said many times before, I am a horrible person. A horrible person who needs to keep her fucking mouth SHUT.

Why I never walked away. Why I played myself this way. Now I see your testing pushes me away.

So that’s that. Is what is. I have been going to bed around 7 or 8 in the morning at the earliest, and staying in bed past 2.  Usually I stay much later.  I just have no desire to get up right now. My crazy doctor is going to be angry. Annoyed anyway.  I have been missing my meds often lately. Quite often, actually. I remember them maybe once or twice a week. I keep getting hungry. I am most definitely not a fan. I don’t like being hungry and gaining weight. Though today I think I wasn’t. Hungry, that is. Coffee. Lots of coffee. I know I am not supposed to drink coffee with them, but I live on it. That is never going to change. If my brain has the chance of exploding if I keep drinking coffee, I will still drink it. I guess it is similar to smokers who know they will get cancer, but smoke anyway. Maybe they are just as crazy as I am.  I like the taste. I like the energy. I like the warmth.

We’re all out of time, this is how we find how it all unwinds. The sacrifice of hiding in a lie. 

I started doing push ups every day.  I think to try to help lose weight. Well, not lose weight. Doing push ups is going to do jack shit about my weight gain, but it might help with my back getting bad again. Core strength, eh?  I miss not being so weak.  I used to be able to a bunch. I never could do sit ups, but push ups were easy.  I can do… five.  Yes my dearies, FIVE.  I am a weakling. Pathetic. Occasionally I can do seven. I’m not sure why some times are different. You would think I could figure that out. Objectively notice the difference. But, I just have no inkling. I want to stop being so pathetic and do more. But I just wobble and fall. Yes, I can already hear you thinking, “You should do yoga!”  Right? But no. Classes are most definitely not cheap, and I just never seem to do it on my own.

When all you got is these four walls…

It’s not hard to feel so small, when all you got is these four walls. It’s not hard to feel so small. All she wanted was to be enough. All she wanted was to be enough. So what does it take? Maybe it’s not too late. Yeah no one heard her when she said…

There are good things and bad things in life. My life. I have good people. I have bad people. I have people I should get rid of, and people I should cling tighter to. I should make the effort to keep in touch with those I don’t, and stop talking to some.  I realized today that not only am I angry by today’s political issues that I’m fucking scared. Terrified. I got into an argument with someone who genuinely believed that “all men” think and say the things that the current president said and says about women. Re-read that. This man said that *ALL MEN THINK AND SAY THEY WANT TO SEXUALLY VIOLATE WOMEN*.

This lit a fuse and I went off. Oops. I honestly admit, if he had said it in my presence I probably would have swung. I could feel my face burning. It wasn’t embarrassment or horror. It was rage. How DARE he say that about all men. I KNOW men who are… not all men think this… Do they?  This put my brain in panic mode. Which angered me further. DO all men think about this? DO all men, at one point or another in their lives, think about sexually violating women? Do my male friends think this? About me? My female friends? Someone’s daughter? Sister? Mother?

She said she wants to end it all when she’s all alone in her room. She cries. The way she feels inside is too much for her. When all you got is these four walls, it’s not that hard to feel so small, or even exist at all. How come no one heard her when she said…

I’ve been stress eating again, so I’ve gained some weight. I hate this. It makes me feel ugly. I need to stop eating so much. Or exercise. I just don’t want to. I don’t want to do anything right now. The Benadryl is helping me sleep. I’ve added it to my nightly meds, I just don’t want to get up. And not because I’m groggy, I just don’t want to. The nightmares have been hard core, lately. Mostly something sitting on me and pounced, ready to attack.  I know if I open my eyes I’m screwed. I’ve been drinking more coffee than I even used to. Not sure exactly what that says. I don’t think I’m supposed to drink coffee with my medicine. I know I’m not supposed to drink alcohol. Occasionally I’ll add some rum or vanilla vodka to it because, tasty. But not often, and not much.  I know I’m not supposed to drink alcohol with my meds, but I like the flavor. Spiced rum in coffee is delish!

She doesn’t know she’s beautiful, cause no one’s ever told her so. And the demons that she hides, are all she knows. And maybe she can fall in love with someone in her life that she could trust, and tell her she’s enough. (Have someone tell her she’s enough!)
How come no one heard her when she said…

I think I’m getting crazier. But I think I say that every post, now don’t I?  By this point I should be so fucking crazy that my brain oozes from my nose and ears. Now THAT would be a sight. I guess I just feel that since the only thing I’m good at is driving people away, I must be a fucking nut case. Under job applications, “Best skills” I should put “Driving people away because I’m an asshole.”  But, alas, I think that might not be the best of ideas. My head’s been extra loud lately. Lots of guilt. Whether or not it’s deserved, (Isn’t it always?) it’s there. It eats at my brain. It eats at my soul. It nibbles at my fingers and toes at night.

Maybe I’m better off dead. If I was, would it finally be enough to shut out all those voices in my head? Maybe I’m better off dead.  Better off dead!  Did you hear a word, hear a word I said? This is not where I belong. You gonna miss me when I’m gone. Gone, gone. This is not where I belong. You’re gonna miss me when I’m gone. Gone, gone. This is not where I belong. You’re gonna miss me when I’m gone.

While no, I don’t think about killing myself, I sometimes wonder whether or not all of the self-doubt, anger, hatred, and fear will go away when I realize I’m dying.  Whether it’s a split second before a car crash, or dying slowly from a cancer, or just plain old age. I just wonder. Will I die angry and feeling alone? I’ve always been that person who can be surrounded by so many people, friends even, and I feel so alone. I feel like I’m just so… isolated. I can’t explain what’s in my head, and how I feel, so it just makes me sad. There’s really no other way to explain it. There’s no way to express the heavy weight of trying to describe my thoughts and feelings and having someone tell me I’m wrong, or that I don’t know what I’m talking about. It’s depressing for someone to tell me that I have no business being upset about something that I took wrong. Whether or not I took something wrong, or got upset because of something they said that they did or didn’t mean, does not invalidate my feelings.  … right?

I can’t quite contain or explain…

My evil ways. Or explain why I’m not sane. All I can say is this is your warning. Duality. 

Speaking of warning. I should warn everyone when I am going to disappear for a while, but it is not always planned. Sometimes I just have no desire to talk about what is in my head. It’s not you. It’s me.  I’ve had more swings, up and down.  Duality. Appropriate. I’m almost a completely different person when I’m at each end of the spectrum. Or at least I feel that way.  I keep getting told that people don’t like me when I am on a down swing. No shit. I don’t like me when I am on a down swing.  I want to be peppy all of the time. I WANT to be able to be happy, or bubbly, or bouncy, or just otherwise wonderful to be around. I WANT to be one of those people. But I’m not. I’m just me.

No, can’t count the list of things I know are wrong with me. No need to just keep fighting. No, I’ll never take the blame… So I’ll just take the blame, I’ll never stop.

I have a chemically different brain than the average human being, and I react differently to most situations. There are things that do not bother me in the slightest that should affect me greatly. There are other things that should not bother me so much that are almost devastating. In general, death of humans does not bother me. I can’t explain why. That’s just not normal. Animals rip me to shreds. That’s the way you’re supposed to react. But humans? Nah. Maybe that’s because animals are innocent, while humans aren’t. Maybe we were at the spawning, freshly expelled from the womb, but almost instantaneously the negative influences begin. I just fight to care.

I am good, I am evil. I am solace, I am chaos. I am human, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted to be.

I want to be chemically balanced. I want to be emotionally stable. I want to be able to focus on things and see the good instead of the inherent evil. I see people, and I see the things wrong with them. I see their twisted, warped, and conniving intentions. Are they real? Probably not.  But that’s what I see. I know I’m biased against humanity. We’re destroying ourselves at an alarming rate, we’re killing each other, and we just don’t care. I hate it. It makes me wonder why I care about being so fucked up. It makes me wonder if part of the reason I react to everything so strongly is because I’m NOT broken, but that everyone else is. I sometimes think that the reason that I’m so emotionally overcharged is because no one else is.

I have an impression, in the back of my mind, for the black in my tie contains our dirty thoughts. Make me an obsession, when you lock me inside for the ride of your life unleashed. Gonna get it off.

I’m not sleeping again. My doctor changed my meds again. She told me to take diphenhydramine to sleep. Do we know what that is, class? Benadryl. I am amused. Highly even. But hey, in theory it works. Just… as long as I don’t take too much and go into a Benadryl coma and sleep for 14 or so hours. Waking up with a Benadryl hangover is NOT pleasant. But if it works, I guess we’ll do it. The alternatives are medicines that I REALLY am not keen on taking. And hey, if I can sleep, I can avoid the real world, right?

Nothing in the cage…

Of my ribcage. Got no heart to break, like it that way.  Nothing in the cage of my ribcage.  Emptiness is safe, keep it that way. 

I often wonder why I bother getting out of bed, when all I can do is make people angry or hurt.  I get excitable and distracted and forget what I was doing, or to say or do things I was supposed to.  It gets me in trouble. It gets others mad at me. Which makes me feel worthless.  Do they make me feel worthless?  Not specifically, usually, just I do.  When I make people angry or upset them it all becomes a reflection on myself.  If I was a better human I would not cause this reaction or end result.  I think about these things as I try to convince myself that it is a good idea to wake up every day.  Nights like this make it very difficult to want to do so.  One of my doctors warned me that I would probably do really well on my meds, until things started going bad and then I would slack off and stop taking them.  I am still taking them, just not on time and every night.  I DO take my day chalk, though.  Maybe that is why my brain is overworking right now.  More so than it has been.

Used to be, I had a light, I had a fire in my chest.  Oh, but now I’m all out, and I’ve got nothing left.

One of the things I have never been good at was knowing whether or not people are actually my friends or just using me.  But because of the way things have turned out the past few years, I have become so jaded that I always see the worst out of everyone and every thing. Show me that I can trust you, please.  Tonight I ended up angering one person by getting distracted talking to another.  It really makes no difference how I feel about it.  Remorse and apologies matter not.  I know that I get distracted easily, and I know it is no excuse. I apologized. It is, unfortunately, the best I can do.  It is not as though I can go back in time and fix my errors.  If I could, there are a lot of things I would change. Hell, read through my posts. If you find nothing you think I would change, I just scratch my head in your direction.

Nothing left, now I’m feeling numb. And just like you, I couldn’t love someone.  There is no one I can belong to.

When I got distracted talking to the one friend, it was actually bragging about the person I upset. I understand and accept my fuck up. It is one more in a long list of things I think about every night that I have done to screw everything up. (Ask me again why I have trouble sleeping, please?)  I get it. He is angry. Furious. Hurt.  I am hurt too, but for a different reason.  Other than the fact that it hurts and angers me when I hurt others, I got a cruel lashback tonight that just… I clenched my jaw and my eyes glazed and burned. They lost focus, letting the blur take over. My lip trembled and I shivered and started to feel icy.  That is generally how I respond to betrayal. He told me that that friend really gives zero shits about me, or even really like me.  He made sure to outline all of the ways he was told and shown this tonight.

On the path, never leaving home.  Cut it out from my flesh and bone. And I feel like I can’t see anything. 

Everyone gets angry and upset. I am absolutely the poster child for this.  I get angrier when manic than when depressed. I lash out. We all do. But tonight… Tonight was cruel. Tonight was painful, and twisting. Tonight leaves me feeling like I should disappear. No one wants me around. Neither of them really gives a shit, one of which I already held at arms length–because I already knew we were friends of a mutual benefit. We play a game together, not real life friends.  Disappointing that he really does not like me much, but not too surprising.  Most people really are not big fans of me, either.  The other, just was so cruel, it made my arms itch. I just want to scratch it. I want to scratch it hard and deep.  Cruelty from people in general, I understand. Humans are a savage, petty species. We are a horrible invention.  But cruelty from those I care about, baffles me.  I think I must exclude them from humanity. I must expect that they are more human than humans? Is that even the way to word it, I don’t know.

Take you out, never bring you back again.  Back again.  Back again.  Can’t recall how we lost our innocence.  Innocence. Innocence.

When do I give up and just let go?  Not of specifics, but of everything? When do I stop fighting? When do I stop saying, “Not today.” And just start saying, “Ok.”

Cause everybody’s so scared…

We don’t wanna go there. We don’t wanna make a move. We got all our lives to lose, screaming in the dark while we just play our part.  I’ll play right along like I don’t know what’s going on.

It’s amazing that every time I take a break it tends to be in reaction to some external source.  This time, I had a creepy guy from my game (am I sensing a theme?) threaten me. No big deal. I’m a girl, I play video games, and sometimes I’m not bad at them.  That’s instant target for guys who can’t handle the “girl gamer” thing to attack.  But the creepy part was when he went out of his way to search me out and post my info all over the discord of my guild, and then said he’d be seeing me soon.  That honestly scared the ever living fuck out of me.  I’m used to assholes. I’m used to skeevy guys. Hell, I’ve had stalkers before, and death threats.  But none of them have ever said they’d come to my house and see me soon.  So I did what I do, and put up a brave face and pretended it didn’t bother me, while internally I had a never-ending panic attack.  I mentally cowered in the corner and hid under the blankets.  I had flashbacks, couldn’t breathe, and just felt trapped and cornered.  Pathetic, I know.  Perceived threat rather than actual solid imminent threat.  One might think that I’d know the difference by now.

You and I, we share the same disease.  Cover up, compromise what we grieve.  I’ve let more than my share of revivals die.  This isn’t pretty, but it’s who I am tonight.

My brain has been everywhere lately. One person has said that I’m snappy like when I was on Wellbutrin.  Maybe?  But I think it’s more my stress level.  I had my IUD changed at the beginning of last month.  I went from the copper IUD to the Mirena. The copper had no hormones. The Mirena has small doses that are sent directly to that area instead of pills that circulate.  The thought that’s been passing through my mind since that comment is whether or not that’s affecting my brain enough to cause me to be more stressed and snappy?  I don’t know.  I really don’t.  I guess next time I have an appointment with my doc I can ask.  She’ll tell me what she thinks.  And while I could probably make an appointment early, I really just don’t want to.

Pointing fingers, the problems still linger. They keep getting bigger, and I hold the trigger. Playing with fire, I live like a liar. Please somebody make a move!

I keep internalizing all of my problems, thoughts, feelings, little bits of everything.  So when someone asks me to express what’s bothering me it comes out more than I mean to.  Apparently I make excuses for everything. It’s never my fault. I never do anything wrong. Which is funny. If you ask me what went wrong with about anything, I always feel that it’s my fault.  I TRY to do things right. I just can’t.  I can’t do things right in my video game.  I can’t do things right in real life. I can’t do things right at work. I just can’t.  My mind is full of “can’t” when I am aware that it shouldn’t be.  But, again, I can’t.  I just want it all to be normal.  I wish for just 5 minutes a day I could be “normal” and happy and not-crazy.

Test my reality. Check if there’s a weak spot. Clingin’ to insanity. Hopes the world will ease up. Try to make it look like it’s all somehow getting better. Cause I know how to play it pretty good against the measure. Everyone started out a little insane, but we learn pretty quick how to fake it for the game. But some of you never learned to drop the act, so under that skin of yours: a heart attack.

Maybe the fact that I’m so crazy  and keep waiting for the world to end is why I like reading so much. I get so lost in those worlds that it doesn’t matter what’s happening in real life.  When I come back to reality, it’s easier to fake it.  I have that fantasy world to fall back to in my mind.  I can picture it better than day.  Maybe that’s why, if the zombie apocalypse ever comes I won’t be surprised?  Maybe it’s not a surprise thing, so much as a expectation.  It may not come out as zombies, but something is coming.  Without sounding so paranoid, but when I sound less crazy than the day-to-day, there’s a problem.

And if I had the answers I’d have written them out so I could tell you what to do and what this thing is about.  But all I’ve ever learned comes second-hand, and I dare not preach what I don’t understand. 

I want to say that I can fix myself, or that things out there can be fixed. I want it all to be kosher pickles.  But it can’t be.  There are too many things we can’t take back.  Too many nasty things said and done that just can’t be erased or even blurred into the background.  There are some things that will always be there bright and prominent in our minds and thoughts.  We will hear those words and voices louder than the rest, and replay those images and memories like old movies.  There has to be a way to make them stop, right? Well, other than the obvious.