restored draft, or: maybe someday i'll look back at this and laugh.
this isn't how i want to be.
i've been living in my head too much these days, and i don't really like the things i've been finding.
i keep trying to get back a shred or a sense of the person i used to be, but the person i used to be was just a shell of a girl acting and reacting out of profound pain and anger and guilt. i try to let those things go as best i can now, but i still feel like an empty shell, only now without anything save involuntary body functions and habit driving me. at least the anger and pain was mine. without it, there's nothing here. i spend most of my time just trying not to even think. i never knew i could be so boring.
i'm being haunted by the realization that i don't like people who like me. i hate myself so fucking much that i can't begin to understand why anyone would like me in any capacity, and it gets to the point where i have to make them see me the way that i see myself. that, or just never talk to them again. and i don't even know if i do it more out of self-hate or as a way to keep people at bay so that i can continue to shun any sort of real emotional connection because god forbid i say one fucking personal or real thing to fucking anyone. i fucking hate how i expect everyone to just bare their souls to me, but i hold every little thing so deep inside and carefully guard any glimpse of how i may be feeling or what is going through my goddamned mind. i won't ever get better unless i talk to someone. and that just won't happen. i'm marrying a good man, and i'm only going to make him resent me. he'll get smart and leave me someday, probably sooner than later.
i'm going to bed.
i've been living in my head too much these days, and i don't really like the things i've been finding.
i keep trying to get back a shred or a sense of the person i used to be, but the person i used to be was just a shell of a girl acting and reacting out of profound pain and anger and guilt. i try to let those things go as best i can now, but i still feel like an empty shell, only now without anything save involuntary body functions and habit driving me. at least the anger and pain was mine. without it, there's nothing here. i spend most of my time just trying not to even think. i never knew i could be so boring.
i'm being haunted by the realization that i don't like people who like me. i hate myself so fucking much that i can't begin to understand why anyone would like me in any capacity, and it gets to the point where i have to make them see me the way that i see myself. that, or just never talk to them again. and i don't even know if i do it more out of self-hate or as a way to keep people at bay so that i can continue to shun any sort of real emotional connection because god forbid i say one fucking personal or real thing to fucking anyone. i fucking hate how i expect everyone to just bare their souls to me, but i hold every little thing so deep inside and carefully guard any glimpse of how i may be feeling or what is going through my goddamned mind. i won't ever get better unless i talk to someone. and that just won't happen. i'm marrying a good man, and i'm only going to make him resent me. he'll get smart and leave me someday, probably sooner than later.
i'm going to bed.