This Isn't Gonna Be Pretty
I belong in a fucking hospital.
Failing out of my classes and ruining any hope I had for the future I wanted I could deal with. My mother has a business that someone is going to have to take over someday. I could have scraped my ambition and what was left of my pride together and settled down in Madisonville and become the best damn printer in town. As back-up plans for life go, that one's not bad at all. It doesn't involve a paper hat and a fake smile.
But what I can't stand is that I've pushed everyone I care about to arm's length or farther, and each one of them thinks it's something personal, and they're all just about ready to quit trying. I've already moved out of one apartment because I ruined my relationships with the people living there. I keep hearing things to the effect of, "If you cared about me and wanted to be my friend, you'd change."
The only reason I'm not in the hospital now is that I begged. The first time was the worst experience of my life. I don't want to repeat it. And I begged and pleaded to be allowed to try to get back to a normal life. But the semester has started, and thus far, I haven't made it through a single day without either skipping class or crying my eyes out.
I want to change. I don't want to lose the people who have been good enough to stay with me. Contrary to popular belief, I really don't enjoy making other people suffer, or offending them, or frustrating them. But it's not as easy as wanting to, because I don't seem to be able to recognize the things that are going to upset people. I miss my empathy. I want it back.
This isn't a cry for help. I'm not going to go carve on myself with a razor blade in my bathroom. It's an acknowledgment that the only person who can fix this is me, and a confession that that realization is terrifying.
Failing out of my classes and ruining any hope I had for the future I wanted I could deal with. My mother has a business that someone is going to have to take over someday. I could have scraped my ambition and what was left of my pride together and settled down in Madisonville and become the best damn printer in town. As back-up plans for life go, that one's not bad at all. It doesn't involve a paper hat and a fake smile.
But what I can't stand is that I've pushed everyone I care about to arm's length or farther, and each one of them thinks it's something personal, and they're all just about ready to quit trying. I've already moved out of one apartment because I ruined my relationships with the people living there. I keep hearing things to the effect of, "If you cared about me and wanted to be my friend, you'd change."
The only reason I'm not in the hospital now is that I begged. The first time was the worst experience of my life. I don't want to repeat it. And I begged and pleaded to be allowed to try to get back to a normal life. But the semester has started, and thus far, I haven't made it through a single day without either skipping class or crying my eyes out.
I want to change. I don't want to lose the people who have been good enough to stay with me. Contrary to popular belief, I really don't enjoy making other people suffer, or offending them, or frustrating them. But it's not as easy as wanting to, because I don't seem to be able to recognize the things that are going to upset people. I miss my empathy. I want it back.
This isn't a cry for help. I'm not going to go carve on myself with a razor blade in my bathroom. It's an acknowledgment that the only person who can fix this is me, and a confession that that realization is terrifying.