(no subject)
Why do I always feel as if I'm living on the brink of madness? As if I've stepped one toe over the line, gone just a little too far. One crack away from breaking in half completely. I don't like to think that my mind is so fragile, but I am definitely not as strong as I would have myself believe. I really don't understand why people hang out with me, or want to be my friend. I don't feel as if I have anything to say or give. I have so little confidence that I avoid people I don't already know, because I feel I cannot possibly keep up a conversation that will leave anyone with the impression that I am in anyway awesome or smart. Half the time I avoid the people I do know for the very same reason, because at any moment they could realize they've made a terrible mistake, and wonder why the fuck they're my friend. It takes every bit of energy and concentration to function in social situations. So now here I sit, alone and bored and wishing I had someone to hang out with. See, what is wrong with me? I am crazy.
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I'm being torn apart by two very conflicting obsessions. They are essentially the same, yet contradict each other so much that it makes it impossible to do anything about either of them. I really need to get over it. But I know I won't until I get closure, or consummation. This is entirely cryptic and meaningless, but since I can never speak of these things aloud, acknowledging their existence in writing is somewhat helpful.
Even if the question or opportunity arose, I would probably still deny it. Which is why I will be unhappy forever. There is even some benefit still in denying the obvious, because some people are naive enough to believe anything.
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I'm being torn apart by two very conflicting obsessions. They are essentially the same, yet contradict each other so much that it makes it impossible to do anything about either of them. I really need to get over it. But I know I won't until I get closure, or consummation. This is entirely cryptic and meaningless, but since I can never speak of these things aloud, acknowledging their existence in writing is somewhat helpful.
Even if the question or opportunity arose, I would probably still deny it. Which is why I will be unhappy forever. There is even some benefit still in denying the obvious, because some people are naive enough to believe anything.