(no subject)
One of my aunts died. She was one of those amazingly funny old ladies, the one I want to be just like when I get old. She could always make people laugh and she never minded doing silly stuff because she knew how to laugh at herself and get others to laugh with instead of at her. She was awesome, and she was my grandmother's best friend AND sister. She died yesterday morning, probably of a heart attack, and they didn't find her until this afternoon. A day and a half laying face down in her bedroom before anyone realized something was wrong and went to check on her. It's really sad that such a vibrant woman had such a lonely end.
So yeah, I'm a bit depressed right now. Add that to the already tedious cycle I've yet again fallen into of hating myself for being so damn independent, plus all of life's normal aches and pains, and you get one depressed little bitch. My entire life, I've been shown again and again that I have nothing to offer anyone but a heart as devoted as any dog, that catches on and clings no matter how many times you kick it away. And eventually I learned to use it, to just give and give and give, because everyone wants to feel loved and that's the only thing I'm good at, making people feel loved and special and cared about. But dammit, sometimes the well runs dry.
Is it so impossible to find one person, just one? That's all I need, one person to put their arms around me and tell me that I don't have to be in charge, that I don't have to take care of anybody. For once, someone to take care of me. I can give out all the hugs and cuddles and sympathy in the world, and at the end of the day, I'm still waiting to get mine. I don't even know if I'm explaining this right. This is a side of me I try to avoid, forget it, ignore it, pretend it's not there. I'm not some emo kid ranting about the black void of darkness in my soul. It's not even a void, because there's nothing to fill a void and this is a fillable hole, there's just not anything available to fill it with. The longer I go, the more I give, the bigger it gets, and there's nothing coming back in to refill it.
It is nights like tonight when I really want to die. And even though I know there are some who would miss me, who would actually notice I'm gone, I can't even find it in myself to care.