Being an Onlooker
I cant seem to figure out why I hate every aspect of life at this point in my life. I hate going to school-which I used to love and always looked forward too. I hate art-simply because one teacher made it completely suck for me. I hate work-which I really didn't mind until recently. I hate Jacob-he makes me cry at least 3 times a week now. I hate the concept of love and relationships-see the predecessor. I hate not being appreciated or respected at some sort of level that one would consider reasonable. I hate the fucking ideas that happiness is always attainable and that the past is in the past and there's nothing you can do about it. I hate laying down every night wondering why I keep waking up every morning and why I didn't pass in my sleep. I still constantly wish I wasn't here on this earth in this life, hating everything about it. It's like my punishment for hating life; having to live it, hating it. I can't figure out if I truly don't believe in a god or spiritual power. Yet, I can't accept that there could possibly be something up there running my life to a certain degree and making sure everything works out for the end. I have this constant urge to jump off a cliff and just hope I die at the end of the flight. I can't communicate with anyone. No one can seriously understand the words I say or how I communicate them. I don't really think I have ever been taken seriously.
In my attempt to explain the process of how I think, I seriously frustrate myself. It's rediculous to be an onlooker to my speech and witness how incredibly stupid I am.
Say, for example, the other night Jacob and I fought for quite a while about whether we were going to stay together or take a break or whatever. Now, my initial thoughts were, yes I want out of this rediculously condescending copout of a relationship. Then in kicks my future self saying, look at what you've planned with him, look what could be. Then my past self chimes in on queue, yeah, but look what was planned and didn't happen, look what was promised and wasn't fulfilled, look at how things were handled. Finally, (as Jake has been staring at my blank expression for 5 minutes) I think these pieces of me altogether and can only seem to utter a lameass "I don't know." I say I'm leaving, and I sit there and take it like a bitch. I fucking argue my heart out, but it's only ever in my head, never outloud. I can't communicate with him. Anything I ever want to truthfully say to him is condescending and hurtful and would get us nowhere. My concept of speech is looking at him in his eyes every few minutes just to make sure he's still there waiting for me to say something.
Next example. They way I struggle with personal thoughts is almost like a schizophrenic relationship. For instance, (yes, another Jake example..) last night Jake was kind of suggesting to me that he wasn't comphy laying in the spot he was so I told him to scoot over a couple times. He snapped back at me saying no Dani, I'm fine where I am and I don't mean to be an asshole about it, but damn. So naturally I feel like a complete bitch for even suggesting he could move since he asked about it. So then I sit there evaluating the situation and just cry because the whole month has just been a fucking emotional rollercoaster and I think a lot of the stuff I wrote earlier in this. I tell myself repeatedly all the negative things about myself and how I act and how I am and how I handle situations. I verbally bash myself as if I'm an onlooker of a pathetic means of a person. It's like this other person comes out of me and tells me I should just kill myself because why bother trying to make other people respect me, love me, be kind to me, etc. Why bother trying to be a human being at all? Why not just stay an empty void, a lost soul in a sea of nothing promising. I go through these thoughts for about an hour, all the while being myself onlooking the onlooker thinking, what the fuck is the matter with me? Why would I, ME! be thinking these things? Why would such a happy, energetic, promising person like me, ever feel the need to think this? I get frustrated because I don't know who the real me really is. Am I the onlooker, the person looking on the onlooker, or am I the initial one being looked upon. So finally I just give in to the physical means of being human and pass out because I'm so exhausted from the predecessing argument that my energy to keep it up is spent.
That's no way to live. And I live it every day.
I regret to say that I deny therapy. I've been suggested by so many people it's almost painful and hurtful to think about because I know I'm smarter than this. I know and am aware that what I'm doing is stupid and that I know I can handle it myself. I KNOW what I'm thinking is messed up, but it still continues to be thought about.
All in all I'm just another brick in the wall.
In my attempt to explain the process of how I think, I seriously frustrate myself. It's rediculous to be an onlooker to my speech and witness how incredibly stupid I am.
Say, for example, the other night Jacob and I fought for quite a while about whether we were going to stay together or take a break or whatever. Now, my initial thoughts were, yes I want out of this rediculously condescending copout of a relationship. Then in kicks my future self saying, look at what you've planned with him, look what could be. Then my past self chimes in on queue, yeah, but look what was planned and didn't happen, look what was promised and wasn't fulfilled, look at how things were handled. Finally, (as Jake has been staring at my blank expression for 5 minutes) I think these pieces of me altogether and can only seem to utter a lameass "I don't know." I say I'm leaving, and I sit there and take it like a bitch. I fucking argue my heart out, but it's only ever in my head, never outloud. I can't communicate with him. Anything I ever want to truthfully say to him is condescending and hurtful and would get us nowhere. My concept of speech is looking at him in his eyes every few minutes just to make sure he's still there waiting for me to say something.
Next example. They way I struggle with personal thoughts is almost like a schizophrenic relationship. For instance, (yes, another Jake example..) last night Jake was kind of suggesting to me that he wasn't comphy laying in the spot he was so I told him to scoot over a couple times. He snapped back at me saying no Dani, I'm fine where I am and I don't mean to be an asshole about it, but damn. So naturally I feel like a complete bitch for even suggesting he could move since he asked about it. So then I sit there evaluating the situation and just cry because the whole month has just been a fucking emotional rollercoaster and I think a lot of the stuff I wrote earlier in this. I tell myself repeatedly all the negative things about myself and how I act and how I am and how I handle situations. I verbally bash myself as if I'm an onlooker of a pathetic means of a person. It's like this other person comes out of me and tells me I should just kill myself because why bother trying to make other people respect me, love me, be kind to me, etc. Why bother trying to be a human being at all? Why not just stay an empty void, a lost soul in a sea of nothing promising. I go through these thoughts for about an hour, all the while being myself onlooking the onlooker thinking, what the fuck is the matter with me? Why would I, ME! be thinking these things? Why would such a happy, energetic, promising person like me, ever feel the need to think this? I get frustrated because I don't know who the real me really is. Am I the onlooker, the person looking on the onlooker, or am I the initial one being looked upon. So finally I just give in to the physical means of being human and pass out because I'm so exhausted from the predecessing argument that my energy to keep it up is spent.
That's no way to live. And I live it every day.
I regret to say that I deny therapy. I've been suggested by so many people it's almost painful and hurtful to think about because I know I'm smarter than this. I know and am aware that what I'm doing is stupid and that I know I can handle it myself. I KNOW what I'm thinking is messed up, but it still continues to be thought about.
All in all I'm just another brick in the wall.