ljidol 5 : achilles heel
Is it too much to ask to not feel like a failure tonight? Is it too much to ask to be able to finish one goddamn thing so I can not just quit? I don't even know anymore. I am lost. I am so lost in the forest and I have forgotten how to speak. I open my mouth but nothing comes.
I am kicking my feet and grasping at the air, I am wild and untamed. I am pulling, grasping for anything but there is nothing, not a rope, not a string, not a hand to hold.
I want to scream, I want to hurt, I want to pound my face into the ground and never stop. I am not here. I am not here. I am invisible. I am a myth. I am losing it, I am losing myself. How much longer can I stand? How much longer can I hold on, how much longer will it take to stop hurting, to stop grieving?
When you lay in bed and your only thought is about tearing all your hair out in clumps, that's when you know something is going on with you. When you imagine slapping your own face, when you imagine scratching your own skin with your own nails. When you can't allow yourself to think. When any attempt at listening to your own voice ends with disturbing images. And you know those images are trying to protect you. They are keeping you from feeling something or knowing something.
Because I don't feel, or maybe I don't know when I feel. All I see are images of myself that are too disturbing to explain, and then I realize, "I must be sad about something."
Maybe a lot of somethings.
When the boy trips and my minds eye sees him fall face first, eye first, into the corner of the table. When I can't get that image to go away, when I have to clench my nails into my hand to be able to not react as if it truly happened. That's when I know I am trying to avoid something. That's when I know I am trying to tell myself something.
When I have to say to myself, "Has there been something on my mind recently that would be bothering me?"
When asking myself that question. When wondering truly, right now, stopping writing and just thinking about it, makes me want to bash my head into the side of the bed, that's when I know something is fucking wrong.
When you feel like a failure over nothing. When you need and need and need some more and no one hears you. When there is no sound but the sound of yourself screaming inside your own head. When you are nothing but invisible, nothing but nothing.
When you find yourself stalking the closet for chocolate even though you know there isn't any. When you're considering baking cookies from scratch at midnight, even though you aren't hungry.
When nothing feels right, when every step, every direction, every choice feels wrong.
When everything you do is just a way to postpone, just a way to push yourself out of your own head. When everything is a distraction, a way to pretend it's not happening, whatever it is that is happening.
When you dream that you are happy, truly content with the world. And you are completely disheartened to discover it was just a dream. That's when you start to think. That's when I start to think.
When every click of the mouse, every touch to the computer is a way to disconnect from my own head.
When every cookie eaten, every meal cooked, every television show watched, and every moment of sleep is just a way to not be present inside my own skin.
When writing this isn't making me feel any better. Because it is just me whining, just me venting, just the essence of me flowing out of my fingers. When everything I write is just like a thousand other things I have written that sound exactly like this.
Because it is always the same, always comes back to the same things that I don't want to feel or think or know. The same defense mechanisms, the same anxiety, the same words.
The same damn words dancing behind my eyes.
I want someone to put me in my place. I want someone to slap me in the face and tell me how much of a whore I truly am, tell me how worthless I am. Carve it into my skin, brand myself with my new name. Because at least that would feel real.
Please, help me, I can't do this anymore. I can't be this anymore.
I am lost in the dark, lost in the forest. Crying and shaking, barefoot as the rain is falling, long stringy brown hair in my eyes, and a gauzey white slip I don't recognize, sticking to my body. Begging, begging for someone to help me, begging to be anywhere else.
The curtains are coming down, the wind is blowing, and the stars are calling my name. I am laying in the dark on the soft dirt staring up at the sky, waiting for the wolves to come. For they are hungry and I would make a great meal.
*********
If you want to check out the poll and maybe even vote for me, go here:
http://community.livejournal.com/therealljidol/237551.html#cutid1
I am kicking my feet and grasping at the air, I am wild and untamed. I am pulling, grasping for anything but there is nothing, not a rope, not a string, not a hand to hold.
I want to scream, I want to hurt, I want to pound my face into the ground and never stop. I am not here. I am not here. I am invisible. I am a myth. I am losing it, I am losing myself. How much longer can I stand? How much longer can I hold on, how much longer will it take to stop hurting, to stop grieving?
When you lay in bed and your only thought is about tearing all your hair out in clumps, that's when you know something is going on with you. When you imagine slapping your own face, when you imagine scratching your own skin with your own nails. When you can't allow yourself to think. When any attempt at listening to your own voice ends with disturbing images. And you know those images are trying to protect you. They are keeping you from feeling something or knowing something.
Because I don't feel, or maybe I don't know when I feel. All I see are images of myself that are too disturbing to explain, and then I realize, "I must be sad about something."
Maybe a lot of somethings.
When the boy trips and my minds eye sees him fall face first, eye first, into the corner of the table. When I can't get that image to go away, when I have to clench my nails into my hand to be able to not react as if it truly happened. That's when I know I am trying to avoid something. That's when I know I am trying to tell myself something.
When I have to say to myself, "Has there been something on my mind recently that would be bothering me?"
When asking myself that question. When wondering truly, right now, stopping writing and just thinking about it, makes me want to bash my head into the side of the bed, that's when I know something is fucking wrong.
When you feel like a failure over nothing. When you need and need and need some more and no one hears you. When there is no sound but the sound of yourself screaming inside your own head. When you are nothing but invisible, nothing but nothing.
When you find yourself stalking the closet for chocolate even though you know there isn't any. When you're considering baking cookies from scratch at midnight, even though you aren't hungry.
When nothing feels right, when every step, every direction, every choice feels wrong.
When everything you do is just a way to postpone, just a way to push yourself out of your own head. When everything is a distraction, a way to pretend it's not happening, whatever it is that is happening.
When you dream that you are happy, truly content with the world. And you are completely disheartened to discover it was just a dream. That's when you start to think. That's when I start to think.
When every click of the mouse, every touch to the computer is a way to disconnect from my own head.
When every cookie eaten, every meal cooked, every television show watched, and every moment of sleep is just a way to not be present inside my own skin.
When writing this isn't making me feel any better. Because it is just me whining, just me venting, just the essence of me flowing out of my fingers. When everything I write is just like a thousand other things I have written that sound exactly like this.
Because it is always the same, always comes back to the same things that I don't want to feel or think or know. The same defense mechanisms, the same anxiety, the same words.
The same damn words dancing behind my eyes.
I want someone to put me in my place. I want someone to slap me in the face and tell me how much of a whore I truly am, tell me how worthless I am. Carve it into my skin, brand myself with my new name. Because at least that would feel real.
Please, help me, I can't do this anymore. I can't be this anymore.
I am lost in the dark, lost in the forest. Crying and shaking, barefoot as the rain is falling, long stringy brown hair in my eyes, and a gauzey white slip I don't recognize, sticking to my body. Begging, begging for someone to help me, begging to be anywhere else.
The curtains are coming down, the wind is blowing, and the stars are calling my name. I am laying in the dark on the soft dirt staring up at the sky, waiting for the wolves to come. For they are hungry and I would make a great meal.
*********
If you want to check out the poll and maybe even vote for me, go here:
http://community.livejournal.com/therealljidol/237551.html#cutid1