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?