salt stained rambles
All I'm looking for is a friend.. Just one, genuine, loyal friend who won't leave my side - no matter how awful I get or how appealing the rest of you look. I want him to be a man, a strong man with gentle hands, and he doesn't have to love me because I want him to, I want him to love me because that's all he can do. He doesn't have to revolve around me, he doesn't have come each time I call, but I want him to give me the security I need to know that just because he isn't here, doesn't mean I'm not on his mind. I've never been blessed with a healthy relationship, or one that could even be close to real. Men have used, abused, and violated my mind, body, spirit, and soul... And I can't seem to break away from them, even when it's at it worse.
I have the hardest time understanding the actions of men. I cannot comprehend how someone can tell you they care for you, how they can swear to you that they'll be there always - but then turn around later, and act like they never said a thing. As if their word was not their bond, as if their softly spoken promises were passing thoughts that held no real truth in the first place. I find it even harder to understand why it is so hard to find another soul who wants the same, who needs the same - and why everyone else seems to have no trouble doing so, except for me.
There comes a point in your life, when the lack of love and comfort from those who are not your family, begins to hallow you out, making you feel as though the reasons for the absence of love lies not only within yourself, but in who you are. It's not simply just that you don't love yourself; it's that every fiber, every ounce, every miniscule part of your being is full of rot and decay of the life you feel you should have, but know you will never live. You begin to realize that nothing, and no one, will ever truly love you the way that everyone else experiences it, and you slowly, reluctantly, accept that you are unlovable. That you, as an individual, is incapable of ever having something, that something with anyone... Because no matter how stellar of a connection you think you may have, it always burns out & you're left with the emptiness.
Now, I know I am young, much too young to be speaking about life so cynically - but the truth is, I feel that no matter how hard I try, no matter how many times I put myself out there, truly be myself & hope for the best... I will never be given the chance to make someone else happy. Because there is always someone better, there is always something better, and no one, no one, wants to settle for less.
Needless to say, my relationship with Shane did not work out as I had hoped, and now he, too, much like many other men or friends I have had throughout my life, is moving on - bettering himself in bullshit ways, which leads me to feel that I completely fucking ruin people. I am a destroyer, an evil, awful person whose touch turns anything good into total shit. But what amazes me most is that I am always so highly praised.. "You're amazing, you've done so much for me. You really get me. You are so wonderful and such a great person." Only to be left in the dust, as the person I love & care for so deeply, walks swiftly to the future with their head held high, because life without Samantha is fucking bea-u-ti-ful. And they never look back.
I've been trying really hard to move past this emotional blockade I have seem to come screeching face first into, but it's very difficult. I have not felt this alone or misunderstood in quite some time, and I have no idea what to do. At first, I reached out to new friends and tried to make myself happy that way, but the lack of reciprocation had done nothing but deter me from seeking anyone else. My second option was to leave the city I was living in, and to leave the lifestyle behind.. Just for a short while. I struggled with the decision to go, mainly because I felt I had more tying me down than really existed, but I finally left - and with it came a surprising sense of relief. But it didn't last long... The first few weeks were spent forcing myself to be positive, and to be open to the ways of the Universe, but the relief seemed to seep away day by day until the weight returned, overbearing my chest and heart, holding me down like rocks in a stream. And every morning, I wake up hoping that a shred of who I was, or want to be, will show itself - and nothing comes. Just the decomposing entity that is Samantha - a life force ran on bottles of booze and electronic cigarettes, quietly suffering, waiting for the minute when someone will just fucking ask what is wrong - and genuinely care.
It would be ungrateful of me to say that I don't have friends that care, or that I don't have family members that care, but the truth is - the care that they offer is just not enough, or the right kind. I don't need someone to listen to my problems and compare them to theirs. I don't need a friend who is going to hear what I have to say, and then talk to me about fucking this guy, or hooking up with someone new. I don't need my family members making me feel any fucking worse than I already do, because besides their judgements, they know they can't do a single thing for me. They can't fix this, they can't help this -- and they see it in my eyes in the way that I feel it in my in heart.
There has to be someone out there like me, someone who wholeheartedly cares about opening their arms & hearts to the wandering souls. A man who wants to take my broken heart and mend it, a man who wants to kiss my battered body and heal it, a man who wants to listen to all of the things I say, no matter how obscure or unpleasant they may seem, and assure me that he may not fully understands, but he hears me & he sees me & he cherishes me for just being. But I'm not allowed that. Not in this life.
They've always told me it's in my imagination. That I conjure these thoughts and feelings because I am dramatic, and I make things up in my mind... And perhaps I do, but that raises two questions. The first being, why on Earth would anyone choose to feel this way? Why would anyone truly want to experience these emotions and feelings, fighting eternal battles daily? What sick, damaged soul would consciously decide to be this miserable, and this full of self loathing? And secondly, if it is all in my head, if I really do make these things up and see them on such a grandiose scale - why the fuck hasn't anyone locked me away yet? The world I perceive is obviously not the world that exists, and typically that offers the logic that I am not "okay." I am not this "amazing, great, wonderful" person, I am a fucking psycho that lives inside a diluted world where alternate scenarios control my thoughts, emotions, and actions. Or is it that they are all crazy? And their inability to see things the way I do is a flaw in their composure as beings? I feel so strongly that I cannot be the only one left who feels the things that I do, and who sees the true nature of these surroundings, and the people a part of them... But as time passes, as each relationship fails, as the growing monster inside of me feeds - I cannot do anything but weep. Weep for the love and the life I will never have, weep for the woman in me that will never be comforted, weep for the shattered being that lies within, with no hope for help, or sign of release.
Tears streamed down my cheeks as I poured this entry out, barely pausing, barely breathing. I could write a million more words and thoughts just like these ones, but I have exhausted myself & I must sleep. There will be a day when I look back upon these pressed keys and I may laugh, or I may shake my head in embarrassment, but in my heart - as crushed and caved in as it feels, I know that I will read this & still feel the same.
Because I am irreversibly damaged.
I have the hardest time understanding the actions of men. I cannot comprehend how someone can tell you they care for you, how they can swear to you that they'll be there always - but then turn around later, and act like they never said a thing. As if their word was not their bond, as if their softly spoken promises were passing thoughts that held no real truth in the first place. I find it even harder to understand why it is so hard to find another soul who wants the same, who needs the same - and why everyone else seems to have no trouble doing so, except for me.
There comes a point in your life, when the lack of love and comfort from those who are not your family, begins to hallow you out, making you feel as though the reasons for the absence of love lies not only within yourself, but in who you are. It's not simply just that you don't love yourself; it's that every fiber, every ounce, every miniscule part of your being is full of rot and decay of the life you feel you should have, but know you will never live. You begin to realize that nothing, and no one, will ever truly love you the way that everyone else experiences it, and you slowly, reluctantly, accept that you are unlovable. That you, as an individual, is incapable of ever having something, that something with anyone... Because no matter how stellar of a connection you think you may have, it always burns out & you're left with the emptiness.
Now, I know I am young, much too young to be speaking about life so cynically - but the truth is, I feel that no matter how hard I try, no matter how many times I put myself out there, truly be myself & hope for the best... I will never be given the chance to make someone else happy. Because there is always someone better, there is always something better, and no one, no one, wants to settle for less.
Needless to say, my relationship with Shane did not work out as I had hoped, and now he, too, much like many other men or friends I have had throughout my life, is moving on - bettering himself in bullshit ways, which leads me to feel that I completely fucking ruin people. I am a destroyer, an evil, awful person whose touch turns anything good into total shit. But what amazes me most is that I am always so highly praised.. "You're amazing, you've done so much for me. You really get me. You are so wonderful and such a great person." Only to be left in the dust, as the person I love & care for so deeply, walks swiftly to the future with their head held high, because life without Samantha is fucking bea-u-ti-ful. And they never look back.
I've been trying really hard to move past this emotional blockade I have seem to come screeching face first into, but it's very difficult. I have not felt this alone or misunderstood in quite some time, and I have no idea what to do. At first, I reached out to new friends and tried to make myself happy that way, but the lack of reciprocation had done nothing but deter me from seeking anyone else. My second option was to leave the city I was living in, and to leave the lifestyle behind.. Just for a short while. I struggled with the decision to go, mainly because I felt I had more tying me down than really existed, but I finally left - and with it came a surprising sense of relief. But it didn't last long... The first few weeks were spent forcing myself to be positive, and to be open to the ways of the Universe, but the relief seemed to seep away day by day until the weight returned, overbearing my chest and heart, holding me down like rocks in a stream. And every morning, I wake up hoping that a shred of who I was, or want to be, will show itself - and nothing comes. Just the decomposing entity that is Samantha - a life force ran on bottles of booze and electronic cigarettes, quietly suffering, waiting for the minute when someone will just fucking ask what is wrong - and genuinely care.
It would be ungrateful of me to say that I don't have friends that care, or that I don't have family members that care, but the truth is - the care that they offer is just not enough, or the right kind. I don't need someone to listen to my problems and compare them to theirs. I don't need a friend who is going to hear what I have to say, and then talk to me about fucking this guy, or hooking up with someone new. I don't need my family members making me feel any fucking worse than I already do, because besides their judgements, they know they can't do a single thing for me. They can't fix this, they can't help this -- and they see it in my eyes in the way that I feel it in my in heart.
There has to be someone out there like me, someone who wholeheartedly cares about opening their arms & hearts to the wandering souls. A man who wants to take my broken heart and mend it, a man who wants to kiss my battered body and heal it, a man who wants to listen to all of the things I say, no matter how obscure or unpleasant they may seem, and assure me that he may not fully understands, but he hears me & he sees me & he cherishes me for just being. But I'm not allowed that. Not in this life.
They've always told me it's in my imagination. That I conjure these thoughts and feelings because I am dramatic, and I make things up in my mind... And perhaps I do, but that raises two questions. The first being, why on Earth would anyone choose to feel this way? Why would anyone truly want to experience these emotions and feelings, fighting eternal battles daily? What sick, damaged soul would consciously decide to be this miserable, and this full of self loathing? And secondly, if it is all in my head, if I really do make these things up and see them on such a grandiose scale - why the fuck hasn't anyone locked me away yet? The world I perceive is obviously not the world that exists, and typically that offers the logic that I am not "okay." I am not this "amazing, great, wonderful" person, I am a fucking psycho that lives inside a diluted world where alternate scenarios control my thoughts, emotions, and actions. Or is it that they are all crazy? And their inability to see things the way I do is a flaw in their composure as beings? I feel so strongly that I cannot be the only one left who feels the things that I do, and who sees the true nature of these surroundings, and the people a part of them... But as time passes, as each relationship fails, as the growing monster inside of me feeds - I cannot do anything but weep. Weep for the love and the life I will never have, weep for the woman in me that will never be comforted, weep for the shattered being that lies within, with no hope for help, or sign of release.
Tears streamed down my cheeks as I poured this entry out, barely pausing, barely breathing. I could write a million more words and thoughts just like these ones, but I have exhausted myself & I must sleep. There will be a day when I look back upon these pressed keys and I may laugh, or I may shake my head in embarrassment, but in my heart - as crushed and caved in as it feels, I know that I will read this & still feel the same.
Because I am irreversibly damaged.