(no subject)
Where am I?
Who am I?
I'm feeling it now. I've felt it creeping in ever since the day the words were told to me. I had reached a level of satisfaction and the walls that defended it came crashing down. Suddenly the people I loved were no longer there. They had left, given up on me. I don't blame them. I had brainwashed myself into believing that things work out for me no matter what.
Silly me to think ONCE AGAIN that a change was all I needed to feel happy.
I'm a horrible person. I never do the things I should. I never care about the feeling or the troubles of those I interact with on a daily basis. I'm a selfish being preoccupied with finding my daily sustenence in a world I choose to exploit with no emotional attachment.
I'm finding myself at the bottom. The pit of my stomach aches and tells me that I've done it once again. I've crippled my world around me and fallen to my knees.
Now I have to beg forgiveness from the world, from everyone who has ever had to put up with me.
It may sound ridiculous, but I've thought more than once in the last weeks that life would be a lot easier for everyone without me in it.
I've burned every bridge I've had help in crossing. I've taken the help people have offered for granted and thrown it back in their faces. I wish everyone hated me. I wish noone would give me a chance. I don't deserve any of it.
I don't deserve charity, I don't deserve kindness.
I do nothing for those around me except leech and leech until they just can't give anymore, and then I move on, never to speak to them again albeit through random messages and holiday dinners of false humor.
I don't know what it is about me that makes me this way. Why I never realize I'm doing these things until my world turns dark and I just want to dissapear.
I need help, serious pshycological help. I can't get it though. I'm on my own, I've been trying to do this on my own for as long as I can remember. Every moment where I feel happy and think that I've won a battle, the shit hits the fan. Now that metiphorical fan is lost in a mountain of excrement so high, I can't see over it anymore.
I don't know where I'm going with this, I could write all night. But I need to stop and fill my mind with television or something of the sort to get it off my mind for now.
In close, I am broken, nay, I am destroyed by my own hand.
Who am I?
I'm feeling it now. I've felt it creeping in ever since the day the words were told to me. I had reached a level of satisfaction and the walls that defended it came crashing down. Suddenly the people I loved were no longer there. They had left, given up on me. I don't blame them. I had brainwashed myself into believing that things work out for me no matter what.
Silly me to think ONCE AGAIN that a change was all I needed to feel happy.
I'm a horrible person. I never do the things I should. I never care about the feeling or the troubles of those I interact with on a daily basis. I'm a selfish being preoccupied with finding my daily sustenence in a world I choose to exploit with no emotional attachment.
I'm finding myself at the bottom. The pit of my stomach aches and tells me that I've done it once again. I've crippled my world around me and fallen to my knees.
Now I have to beg forgiveness from the world, from everyone who has ever had to put up with me.
It may sound ridiculous, but I've thought more than once in the last weeks that life would be a lot easier for everyone without me in it.
I've burned every bridge I've had help in crossing. I've taken the help people have offered for granted and thrown it back in their faces. I wish everyone hated me. I wish noone would give me a chance. I don't deserve any of it.
I don't deserve charity, I don't deserve kindness.
I do nothing for those around me except leech and leech until they just can't give anymore, and then I move on, never to speak to them again albeit through random messages and holiday dinners of false humor.
I don't know what it is about me that makes me this way. Why I never realize I'm doing these things until my world turns dark and I just want to dissapear.
I need help, serious pshycological help. I can't get it though. I'm on my own, I've been trying to do this on my own for as long as I can remember. Every moment where I feel happy and think that I've won a battle, the shit hits the fan. Now that metiphorical fan is lost in a mountain of excrement so high, I can't see over it anymore.
I don't know where I'm going with this, I could write all night. But I need to stop and fill my mind with television or something of the sort to get it off my mind for now.
In close, I am broken, nay, I am destroyed by my own hand.