Does it justify the end?

When all you needed was a friend?

It’s amazing how the things you thought were trivial and unimportant that you mentioned when you were trying to open up to a friend can come back to bite you in the ass.  It’s amazing how much they can hurt.  I don’t know why it surprises me.  It’s borderline amusing.  It reminds me of one of my favorite quotes from The Crow.  “Little things used to mean so much to Shelly.  I used to think they were kind of trivial.  Believe me, nothing is trivial.” It’s a valid point.  The little things matter.  So why is it, when I mention little things in passing that I don’t think about, that I’m surprised when they hurt later?  This IS coming from someone who is a completely selfish person, here.  I’ve been told that more times than I can count in the last month.  Granted, I’ve also been told that I need to do me, and figure out my thing, my brain, my needs, and then doing so is selfish? I can’t help but be confused.  I hate being confused, but it seems to be a solid state of mind of late.  Stress and confusion. So. Much. Fun.

Difficulty living with these scars. I wonder if you tried too hard. The shiver running down your spine. And no it’s not just in your mind. And the music plays along while you sing the same old song, of all the things we couldn’t see, and all the things we’ll never be…

I think my goal in life is to grow numb.  I want to not feel things.  Not feeling good things is worth not feeling bad things.  Hm. Well, is it?  I don’t know.  I sometimes think it is.  Okay, I often think it is, but it also doesn’t balance out for me.  I tend to have a major overload of un-good.  So, again I ask… Is it worth not feeling good to take away the bad, too?  I close my eyes and I replay every bad thing that’s ever happened over and over and over and over and over and over and over again in my head.  I don’t have a choice. It just does.  I can’t stop the flashes, the images, the bombardment of fresh trauma.

Tell me what you really wanna say, when you see me turn and walk away.  And now it’s rising up inside. Can you feel it now?  Can you feel it? I don’t feel the same.

There are parts of me that, despite being open about being broken and damaged goods, I still bury deep inside and lock away deep in a vault of my dome.  Inside of this vault are the pieces that still bleed raw.  They’ll never heal.  Like a necrotic wound, they rot and fester. They’re causing my brain to go septic. My medicines don’t touch those bits and parts, so I try to keep them tucked far away from the less-damaged grey matter.  Doesn’t work, but hey, let’s give me an A for effort, hm?  The stress is helping turn that key, though, it seems. I can’t seem to put enough weight against the door to shut it out.

Looking for the one to take your side. You think everything you say is right. You need it. Still you cannot break this chain, as you look for someone else to blame. And now it’s rising up again. Can you feel it now, can you feel it?

I keep forgetting to gullet my chalk.  I just can’t help but wonder if I’m forgetting, or subconsciously neglecting to. As much as I forget things, I suppose either is possible. Today I woke up and was hit by an amazingly huge stress balloon. All day I’ve been twitchy and shaky and just generally a spaz.  I need to find a way to deal with all of this.

I don’t mind. When you feel so hollow, and you’re feeling left behind. Let it die.

I need to start having better days soon. Life isn’t this bad all the time. Can’t be. I know it’s better for others. I just need to sneak into THAT party, instead of being over here in the leper colony.



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