This room tells of lies…

That echo louder than silence.  Your eyes scream,  “Take me away. ” Now I’m here waiting. 

I’m not sleeping, again.  I think I might actually be zombie-walking at this point.  I’m afraid to.  The last time I slept,  there was so much compounding shit that led up to me losing my friend.  He’s an alcoholic.  He’s been sober for nine years. I was always so proud of him, but so shit at telling him.  The last time I slept,  I kept waking up with with nightmares of him getting shit faced. It was my fault.  He made sure to tell me it was because of me that he was drinking  again.  Then in real-non-dream-life, he told me that he’d been thinking about drinking again. Then he told me he’d been thinking about doing it again because of me and what happened. I’m the one that fucked everything up, after all, anyway. I’ve passed out since, but luckily, I wake right back up. Speaking of which, I need more coffee.

I can’t see why you stay in my life. And I can’t. I can’t see me through your eyes. 

He asked me why I didn’t just walk away. Why I care. Well no, you mostly told me that I didn’t care. But he can’t see him the way that I do. He doesn’t-can’t understand. He can’t understand how much my (formerly our) friends have been trying to hold my head above the water. But it’s moot. I’m the one who fucked everything up. I’m the horrible person. Which I’m supposedly just saying without actually believing. (Passive aggressive Sio is passive aggressive.) Which is a load of fucking bullshit. (Ok, aggressive Sio is aggressive.)

I’m sorry I’m not there. So how do you still care? I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. You’re still alone. Still alone. Still alone.

I’m exhausted. Good things and bad things happen and I can’t tell him about them. I’ve spent so much of my life feeling like all I do is hurt people that I sometimes (often) wonder why I’m still here.

You’re home alone again. You wish this pain would end. There I go. There I go. There I go. And you’re alone. You’re alone. You’re alone.

The other night he told me he was on his way to kill himself. Not in those words. I know him too well, though. I knew what he meant by what he said. He hung up on me. He stopped answering. I screamed. I cried. I yelled and punched the wall. I wanted to drive down there. I knew I wouldn’t make it. Both and time and in one piece. It was pouring. Driving through the pass in the cold, pouring rain at night would have been deadly. But I was terrified. I know what happens. Just like any other death. It’s the brain winning. But he was mine to care for. It was my job to keep him in one piece. To keep him from the edge. To keep him safe. I promise you that from day one. He doesn’t remember. It’s okay. I do. I won’t forget. Even if he does.

I will change, and you will be okay, for now.

I just can’t stop the brain from screaming the mantra, “It’s my fault.” I didn’t do enough, I didn’t do my job. I fail at everything. I’m a horrible person.

You’re keeping me right here, holding on to your faith. You’re drowning all your fears with dreams of better days.

He texted me that he didn’t do it, but that he may later. I just don’t know how to respond to that other than to give him a hundred reasons not to. Hopefully one will mean something to him, since I don’t. No worthless person would, I’d imagine. And, I’m a horrible person. And yes, from head to toe, inside to outside, I believe that. All I do is fuck up and cause pain.

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But after all I’ve said…

Please don’t forget. 

I realized that my biggest fear came true. I lost my best friend.  Devastated doesn’t much cover it. I don’t know why it surprises me. I was afraid from the beginning that this was going to happen,  and it did. It’s another Sio fuck up.  Who here is not snickering in the back, saying “Duh,” really? *crickets* Thought so.

All my friends are heathens, take it slow.  Wait for them to ask you who you know. Please don’t make any sudden moves.  You don’t know the half of the abuse.

I just want to sleep.  My brain isn’t shutting off.  Figures, right? I’m a horrible person.

No way out

Until this all crashes down.

I was about to write a post the other day about how much better things were going.  Irony. I didn’t get around to it. I meant to, just ran out of time.  Then shit hit the fan.  Not quite literal, the cats haven’t learned to projectile-poo, yet.  Give them time.  My days have been working well, waking up fairly early, and actually sleeping.  My meds are putting me to sleep shortly after I take them, which I what I need.  That said, I’m not sleeping calmly, or without nightmares, just actually sleeping.  I suppose that’s still a plus.  I’ve even been taking them every day.

I’ll hold on.  Into the darkness, not knowing at all.

I didn’t want to take them today, or even shower. That’s two days in a row I didn’t want to shower. This doesn’t bode well.  I’ve had so many things going on, that I’m shutting down.  My brain is in so many directions, that I don’t know which way is up and forward.  I feel like I’m sinking.  I feel exponentially better on these meds. That’s not to say that I’m not being pummeled with shit to deal with.  I wonder, often, if a non-fucked up person would still feel like they’re crashing with the things I’m dealing with.

I feel helpless, waiting.  Could this all be the end?  It’s coming down all at once.  Am I losing you?

I’m tired of fighting.  I’ve been fighting with friends, with people I’ve adopted as family, with acquaintances.  My temper is shorter than it used to be, and that’s saying something.  One of my very few public and social outlets just shut down.  This is reminding me of the last time something like this happened and how much it affected me.  They are absolutely not comparable in effect and end result, but it just brings the memory.  I remember feeling devastated.  Now, I’m just sad.

Are you out there, waiting?  Wondering about me?

I’ve spent the last month or two hiding myself more than usual from people I care about.  I always hide the worst of me, but I’ve gotten to the point where I hide the rest of it, too.  I don’t say the things I think or feel, or want to say.  I’m too worried that I’ll upset someone.  At what point does that lose me, and you become acquainted with a doppelganger?  If it looks like me, and kind of acts like me, but isn’t me, isn’t that rather the definition?  So, now, have I become my own doppelganger?

I’ve never felt so alone, as I do now.

Knowing that I’ve created this other version of myself to try to appease others, it makes it feel more like I’m behind the glass of a mirror, pounding to get free.  I’m there, I can see out, but no one can see me.  No one but the doppelganger, that is.  And as she drapes a curtain across the surface, I can see the wicked smile of glee in the deception.  Is that hers, or is it really mine? Sometimes I wonder. I really do.

Hold onto me.

I’m a horrible person.

What have I become…

My sweetest friend? Everyone I know goes away, in the end.

So my new/old meds work.  Technically.  I’m not as depressed.  I’m not as anxiety-ridden.  I’m not as much of anything.  I’m not sleeping, either though. -Ish.  When I DO finally fall asleep it’s either constant waking up with nightmares, or I sleep until 2 or so in the afternoon.  That’s always fun.  Then I can’t sleep, sleep until 2, can’t sleep, sleep until 2.  It’s cyclic.  But that’s just how it is.

Beneath the stains of time the feelings disappear. You are someone else; I am still right here.

I like the apathetic feeling I’m in right now.  I mean, it sounds harsh.  I’m not apathetic. I’m just not excitable. I still love, hate, disappoint, anger, etc.  I just don’t express it in a high-energy way right now.  As my body acclimates to the medicine it should balance and get back to the “do-wop-woo-hoo-OMG-holy-YAY-awesomeness” that is my daily life. I’m just not there yet.  Maybe it’s a good thing, maybe not.  I wonder if it’ll affect my assessment today.

I wear this crown of thorns upon my liar’s chair, full of broken thoughts I cannot repair.

I feel foggy.  Like blinking takes an extra moment, or my glasses need cleaned.  (Okay, my glasses ALWAYS need cleaned, but still.) It’s just weird.  Bright lights are too bright, more so than normal, and I just have less energy than normal.

And you could have it all, my empire of dirt. I will let you down. I will make you hurt.

Someone commented last night about how my new meds were definitely taking effect.  He’s not happy about it.  He definitely doesn’t like it.  I can hear it in his voice.  That sucks. I wanted him to be more supportive, I guess. I asked about it and he said he wasn’t going to comment, or try to sway me in either direction.  I really would have rather he be honest.  It wouldn’t change my mind either way.  I’m going to take the medicine that makes me not want to go sky diving without a parachute.  I think it should make me sad. I guess I AM disappointed, though.

If I could start again, a million miles away, I would keep myself, I would find a way.