I started out clean, but I'm jaded.
It's really hard sometimes to deal with the way my mind works. I hate that I constantly think about how other people think, how they react, and what they will do. I hate that I can see people's actions before they happen, I hate that I can see their intentions with little to no effort. I hate that I spent two and a half hours last night thinking about how this summer is going to go, and how my actions over the next twenty or so days will affect that. I hate that I am so manipulative. I do not try to be, but at the same time I cannot seem to escape that nature. I hate that I hate myself. I hate that the first thing in the morning that usually pops into my mind is "God, why did I wake up?" I am a shell.
I am a hollow, desperate, lonely shell, and I run everyone who is capable of fixing that away from me. Or, at the very least, I'm unlucky enough that every person I have found to fix me is unavailable. I am in a hurricane; where is my rock to cling to? Or am I the hurricane itself, roaring along until I hit land and my life is sucked out of me? Am I destined to spend my life using people in the hopes of finding solace until I eventually die from my own self-hate? Am I so capricous that I cannot form a normal relationship with someone? I'm either too distant or too fucked up. The one man who has ever really fixed me got addicted to meth and dissapeared long enough for me to end up with Eric. And we all know how well that turned out.
And yet, he almost fixed me, too. He almost filled that hole and broke the hold on my emotions that I have grown so weary of. I gave my heart to him, he gave everything to Lizzie. I'm sick of this. I told him that I have given up and I hope that he will understand that I am not an option. I also hope that he will be able to find someone else to care for him when they end, because I do not intend to be there. I keep wishing that Eric Mitchell would sweep me off my feet like he keeps threatening to do. I know he could, I know he would, and I know that he isn't because he doesn't want to mess things up between me and my most recent ex. I find myself wanting to scream, "what else is there to mess up?"
I hate that even as I'm writing this, I'm thinking about how people will react to it. The entry below was catharsis. This one is a calculation.
I am a hollow, desperate, lonely shell, and I run everyone who is capable of fixing that away from me. Or, at the very least, I'm unlucky enough that every person I have found to fix me is unavailable. I am in a hurricane; where is my rock to cling to? Or am I the hurricane itself, roaring along until I hit land and my life is sucked out of me? Am I destined to spend my life using people in the hopes of finding solace until I eventually die from my own self-hate? Am I so capricous that I cannot form a normal relationship with someone? I'm either too distant or too fucked up. The one man who has ever really fixed me got addicted to meth and dissapeared long enough for me to end up with Eric. And we all know how well that turned out.
And yet, he almost fixed me, too. He almost filled that hole and broke the hold on my emotions that I have grown so weary of. I gave my heart to him, he gave everything to Lizzie. I'm sick of this. I told him that I have given up and I hope that he will understand that I am not an option. I also hope that he will be able to find someone else to care for him when they end, because I do not intend to be there. I keep wishing that Eric Mitchell would sweep me off my feet like he keeps threatening to do. I know he could, I know he would, and I know that he isn't because he doesn't want to mess things up between me and my most recent ex. I find myself wanting to scream, "what else is there to mess up?"
I hate that even as I'm writing this, I'm thinking about how people will react to it. The entry below was catharsis. This one is a calculation.