defective
This may not be the best time to be writing this, at roughly midnight, but I don't think I can sleep until I finally let this out.
I don't know if this is a cry for help, or the fact somehow, somewhere I need to let these dark thoughts of my mind. Dark whispers of lacking, failing. maybe borderline depression. It could be the change of seasons but it has been building for a while.
I feel a hollowness in my chest, something deep, something unrelenting. It is spreading breaking me, making me feel defective. As if all my emotions are just being cleared away one by one. There was a time, where I thought I had to be strong, unbreakable, for many reasons. My sister's disappearance, my father's drug abuse and adultery, unstable home, a poor home, a life of being one the targeted for sneers and attacks all before the age of ten. By then I knew people, I knew their evil, I knew their darkness. Yet I pushed forward, I pushed I heaved, I clawed and I climbed. I never attempted greatness, I believed I could but honestly I lacked the drive. My world changed from the horrible little desert town of Hemet to the humid summer air of Montana.
My drive to achieve never showed but for the first time...I understood friendship, understood love of a friend. I also found out this is where my understanding of things changed. My body changed, my mind changed, something in my changed. From there I moved to where I am now, and I grew, I knew though in my life I will fade in and out of people's lives. It would not be of my will but of theirs. That is after all my fate, to help and fade when they no longer need me. Maybe that is why I wanted so badly to go into anthropology, the dead will always be there, they will indeed never leave you.
Middle school, high school, neither too pleasant or unpleasant passed. I thought that maybe there would be a life I would not be expendable to. I was proved wrong last summer. I felt it, I could see it coming, my heart was screaming no, god no, and even as I sat with her crying my eyes out, trying to be strong, and her comforting words trying to tell me otherwise. I knew. I knew the first night. It sucks knowing things like this.
now, it is tonight as I write this. I looked at my childhood pictures, I saw a strong smile, a true smile. Something that today I would never be able to do. It all seems so forced, and now, I feel defective as a human. Love....can I still feel it? I think of it, trying to remember what it felt like to be loved, and I find nothing. I know what it looks like...I can hear it in tones of voices but not in my own. It is like i'm drowning in my own personal hell. I claw at the never ending darkness but I can't seem to totally pull myself out. My hand reaches but never far enough to let anyone, someone, know I'm choking. Because I'm scared they'll know I'm defective.
I tell myself I'm suppose to be strong, that I can't crumble, but now as I look around, I have no reason to. In the past I had a reason, but now there is none. Save for the times I am out with people, I can plaster on a pleasant smile, I can laugh, but at the same time...its hallow. shallow. I never bitch about my hard life, because I do not want pity. I do not want people to know my personal hell that I have been living for my young years until I finally found something to make me have strength. Yet as I sit here, my tears staining my cheeks, I feel weak. Weaker then I have ever felt. alone for the first time in years. How does one with pride reach out for help? what is the right type of help anyways? pity and hugs won't cure this darkness, because once the front is back in place it will still be there. Pills? I do not trust those. failure, defective still rings loudly in my ears. even now as i write, i yell at myself for it, why put this on the internet for the world to see? do you want their pity, after you spent so many days, months, years, shielding yourself telling yourself you are strong enough, they think you are strong enough, you can't break.
but I'm broken.
over what?
I do not know.
the argument swirls in my head over and over, always circling itself, with no conclusion.
I just...for once......do not want to be strong, just once......have someone to lean on. someone I can crumble and feel...it is alright, they are here, they can help me stand once more, be strong again. I'm tired of being strong.....or at least outwardly strong. I just want to know that I have someone to catch me should I stumble, fall, cry, but of course that is what everyone wants......and I always try to be that person.
choking. coughing. I'm tired. so tired. yet...part of me screams to push forward. maybe its not me, but my adviser. that voice that always seems to keep me alive. the drive to when I should be in a seize on the floor with low blood sugar, makes me stand, and eat, even when my brain is a world of fog and my limbs feel heavy. It tells me to live, and I do so.
I think I got most of it out, not sure if I feel better, its mostly all jibberish anyways.
I don't know if this is a cry for help, or the fact somehow, somewhere I need to let these dark thoughts of my mind. Dark whispers of lacking, failing. maybe borderline depression. It could be the change of seasons but it has been building for a while.
I feel a hollowness in my chest, something deep, something unrelenting. It is spreading breaking me, making me feel defective. As if all my emotions are just being cleared away one by one. There was a time, where I thought I had to be strong, unbreakable, for many reasons. My sister's disappearance, my father's drug abuse and adultery, unstable home, a poor home, a life of being one the targeted for sneers and attacks all before the age of ten. By then I knew people, I knew their evil, I knew their darkness. Yet I pushed forward, I pushed I heaved, I clawed and I climbed. I never attempted greatness, I believed I could but honestly I lacked the drive. My world changed from the horrible little desert town of Hemet to the humid summer air of Montana.
My drive to achieve never showed but for the first time...I understood friendship, understood love of a friend. I also found out this is where my understanding of things changed. My body changed, my mind changed, something in my changed. From there I moved to where I am now, and I grew, I knew though in my life I will fade in and out of people's lives. It would not be of my will but of theirs. That is after all my fate, to help and fade when they no longer need me. Maybe that is why I wanted so badly to go into anthropology, the dead will always be there, they will indeed never leave you.
Middle school, high school, neither too pleasant or unpleasant passed. I thought that maybe there would be a life I would not be expendable to. I was proved wrong last summer. I felt it, I could see it coming, my heart was screaming no, god no, and even as I sat with her crying my eyes out, trying to be strong, and her comforting words trying to tell me otherwise. I knew. I knew the first night. It sucks knowing things like this.
now, it is tonight as I write this. I looked at my childhood pictures, I saw a strong smile, a true smile. Something that today I would never be able to do. It all seems so forced, and now, I feel defective as a human. Love....can I still feel it? I think of it, trying to remember what it felt like to be loved, and I find nothing. I know what it looks like...I can hear it in tones of voices but not in my own. It is like i'm drowning in my own personal hell. I claw at the never ending darkness but I can't seem to totally pull myself out. My hand reaches but never far enough to let anyone, someone, know I'm choking. Because I'm scared they'll know I'm defective.
I tell myself I'm suppose to be strong, that I can't crumble, but now as I look around, I have no reason to. In the past I had a reason, but now there is none. Save for the times I am out with people, I can plaster on a pleasant smile, I can laugh, but at the same time...its hallow. shallow. I never bitch about my hard life, because I do not want pity. I do not want people to know my personal hell that I have been living for my young years until I finally found something to make me have strength. Yet as I sit here, my tears staining my cheeks, I feel weak. Weaker then I have ever felt. alone for the first time in years. How does one with pride reach out for help? what is the right type of help anyways? pity and hugs won't cure this darkness, because once the front is back in place it will still be there. Pills? I do not trust those. failure, defective still rings loudly in my ears. even now as i write, i yell at myself for it, why put this on the internet for the world to see? do you want their pity, after you spent so many days, months, years, shielding yourself telling yourself you are strong enough, they think you are strong enough, you can't break.
but I'm broken.
over what?
I do not know.
the argument swirls in my head over and over, always circling itself, with no conclusion.
I just...for once......do not want to be strong, just once......have someone to lean on. someone I can crumble and feel...it is alright, they are here, they can help me stand once more, be strong again. I'm tired of being strong.....or at least outwardly strong. I just want to know that I have someone to catch me should I stumble, fall, cry, but of course that is what everyone wants......and I always try to be that person.
choking. coughing. I'm tired. so tired. yet...part of me screams to push forward. maybe its not me, but my adviser. that voice that always seems to keep me alive. the drive to when I should be in a seize on the floor with low blood sugar, makes me stand, and eat, even when my brain is a world of fog and my limbs feel heavy. It tells me to live, and I do so.
I think I got most of it out, not sure if I feel better, its mostly all jibberish anyways.