But that's one thing I would never say to you
A note to the reader: Don't assume that I'm going off the deep-end here, I just need to vent publicly for a bit. And, by publicly I mean in a friendly forum where I'm quite sure no one is reading this anyway. So don't freak, ok? I'm not going to drive my car into one of the many ditches around here - chances are it wouldn't work anyway.
All right, well to be perfectly honest even that is a lie - nothing is all right these days it seems. I've been feeling massively suicidal and ridiculously manic. I won't actually off myself of course, no worries there. I've been lower than this before, but this constant turmoil is driving me mad. Bouncing off the walls, that's me. I can't stand these constant mood changes. One minute I'm fine and the next I feel like ripping someone's head off, then the moment after that I feel like sobbing into my pillows.
I hate this insanity.
That's what it is, you know? I'm ok with that - we're all insane at some times, in some ways - this is my moment, I suppose.
I just wish there was a healthy release, a way to deal with this backlog of crap. There are just so many issues piled on one another that I can no longer see the light of day, not that there is a light of day of late....
There are so many issues I haven't dealt with, I'm normal on that level. I bury everything I can to hide from myself. I know I know better than this. I know I'm angry at myself. I'm angry at lot of people these days. I miss laughing and meaning it. I miss the release of an honest smile. I miss being me.
I just can't get back to myself, somehow I lost the key and the door got locked behind me. Now I'm nowhere, nowhere-bound.
Life is stressful for everyone. Mine is no more stressful than others, I don't feel put upon really. Shit happens. So my father is first-class bastard, so our house burned down, so my brother is who he is, so I hate my job, so I hate myself, so I hate where I am in life, so I'm sick more often these days, so, so, so, so, so. That's life, right? Shit happens, we move on.
So why can't I move on?
I know that there are a gazillion and one things that could go wrong and be worse. I know that. So why can't feel it?
Why can't feel anything?
I can't remember when I stopped really feeling things. I can't remember when my smiles started to become fragile and brittle. I can't remember when others' admiration or interest started to terrify me. I can't remember when, but I face it every day.
I want to scream at people, rant, rage, cry. But I don't. I just pretend. And isn't that pathetic? We're all so caught up with pretending that we can't see the show that's going on around us. All of us lying, bending and scrapping - trying to remain unseen in our honesties, lost in our disguises.
My only comfort are my own thoughts these days and they're growing more and more agitated at sharing. I never was much of a sharer. God, I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't know why I can't pull it together like I've always done before. What's changed?
I keep searching for answers in the blank stare of every lifeless face I pass. I find nothing.
I remember having this dream when I was little, about how I was frantically searching through my grandparents' home trying to find someone, anyone. No one was there. The silence was deafening. Sometimes there were even people there, adults clearly interacting with each other. Completely unaware of me or my emotional stress. I could see them talking, interacting but I couldn't hear them and they seemingly couldn't hear me. I couldn't even me. I would scream and scream and scream but no sound would come out. No one would notice, if anyone was there, when I slipped down the wall in hysterics.
Then I would wake up to silence, alone.
I hated that part worst of all, not knowing if I would find the same stage set as in my dream.
It was really quite terrifying.
It's funny, isn't it, how little some things change even when all the world has changed around it.
All right, well to be perfectly honest even that is a lie - nothing is all right these days it seems. I've been feeling massively suicidal and ridiculously manic. I won't actually off myself of course, no worries there. I've been lower than this before, but this constant turmoil is driving me mad. Bouncing off the walls, that's me. I can't stand these constant mood changes. One minute I'm fine and the next I feel like ripping someone's head off, then the moment after that I feel like sobbing into my pillows.
I hate this insanity.
That's what it is, you know? I'm ok with that - we're all insane at some times, in some ways - this is my moment, I suppose.
I just wish there was a healthy release, a way to deal with this backlog of crap. There are just so many issues piled on one another that I can no longer see the light of day, not that there is a light of day of late....
There are so many issues I haven't dealt with, I'm normal on that level. I bury everything I can to hide from myself. I know I know better than this. I know I'm angry at myself. I'm angry at lot of people these days. I miss laughing and meaning it. I miss the release of an honest smile. I miss being me.
I just can't get back to myself, somehow I lost the key and the door got locked behind me. Now I'm nowhere, nowhere-bound.
Life is stressful for everyone. Mine is no more stressful than others, I don't feel put upon really. Shit happens. So my father is first-class bastard, so our house burned down, so my brother is who he is, so I hate my job, so I hate myself, so I hate where I am in life, so I'm sick more often these days, so, so, so, so, so. That's life, right? Shit happens, we move on.
So why can't I move on?
I know that there are a gazillion and one things that could go wrong and be worse. I know that. So why can't feel it?
Why can't feel anything?
I can't remember when I stopped really feeling things. I can't remember when my smiles started to become fragile and brittle. I can't remember when others' admiration or interest started to terrify me. I can't remember when, but I face it every day.
I want to scream at people, rant, rage, cry. But I don't. I just pretend. And isn't that pathetic? We're all so caught up with pretending that we can't see the show that's going on around us. All of us lying, bending and scrapping - trying to remain unseen in our honesties, lost in our disguises.
My only comfort are my own thoughts these days and they're growing more and more agitated at sharing. I never was much of a sharer. God, I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't know why I can't pull it together like I've always done before. What's changed?
I keep searching for answers in the blank stare of every lifeless face I pass. I find nothing.
I remember having this dream when I was little, about how I was frantically searching through my grandparents' home trying to find someone, anyone. No one was there. The silence was deafening. Sometimes there were even people there, adults clearly interacting with each other. Completely unaware of me or my emotional stress. I could see them talking, interacting but I couldn't hear them and they seemingly couldn't hear me. I couldn't even me. I would scream and scream and scream but no sound would come out. No one would notice, if anyone was there, when I slipped down the wall in hysterics.
Then I would wake up to silence, alone.
I hated that part worst of all, not knowing if I would find the same stage set as in my dream.
It was really quite terrifying.
It's funny, isn't it, how little some things change even when all the world has changed around it.