(no subject)
Still alive. Still nuts.
I really should make myself get back into the habit of writing here again. Having everything just spinning around in my head all the time is rather harder to handle, and I miss actually writing words, as me, really.
I feel very alone in my craziness sometimes. It's hard to hang onto any shred of not-hopelessness for very long.
I do try. Or do I, really? Maybe I'm never really trying enough. Everything seems so relative, a matter of perspective. I don't know.
And it still throws me every time, when someone does something nice for me and my first instinct is always why, why care about me when I am so utterly useless. I know my perspective is skewed in that regard, I recognize that, and yet, my first emotional reflex is...that.
Sometimes even breathing feels difficult.
And often, so often there are so many words and thoughts about this or that in my head and no one and no where to share them and so i don't, silence, funny how you can talk, speak and yet still it feels like silence. I should write more, again. That was what this place has always been for. I kind of consistency, a way to remind myself that I am real, the me in my head and the parts of me I can share with nobody.
Sometimes, often i do not feel like a real person. Or a creature more than a human being. It's...hard to put the feeling into words exactly...
I really should make myself get back into the habit of writing here again. Having everything just spinning around in my head all the time is rather harder to handle, and I miss actually writing words, as me, really.
I feel very alone in my craziness sometimes. It's hard to hang onto any shred of not-hopelessness for very long.
I do try. Or do I, really? Maybe I'm never really trying enough. Everything seems so relative, a matter of perspective. I don't know.
And it still throws me every time, when someone does something nice for me and my first instinct is always why, why care about me when I am so utterly useless. I know my perspective is skewed in that regard, I recognize that, and yet, my first emotional reflex is...that.
Sometimes even breathing feels difficult.
And often, so often there are so many words and thoughts about this or that in my head and no one and no where to share them and so i don't, silence, funny how you can talk, speak and yet still it feels like silence. I should write more, again. That was what this place has always been for. I kind of consistency, a way to remind myself that I am real, the me in my head and the parts of me I can share with nobody.
Sometimes, often i do not feel like a real person. Or a creature more than a human being. It's...hard to put the feeling into words exactly...