Friday, March 6, 2009

Pathetic (Originally published on 12.18.08)

I'm fighting with my brain right now. I am sobbing, begging it to stop hating me. I don't want to hate myself anymore. Everyday. Everyday. I hate myself. I just want a day that I don't. Just a day. Why can't I just have a day? A day where I don't cringe when I look in the mirror, a day when I can look down at my body and not hate it. A day where I don't feel like I'm failing because I'm not writing or playing my guitar. A day where I feel like maybe one day I can be loved.

Oh but I love to hate myself. I am so very good at it .I sit in it, I bathe in self loathing. I scratch it into my skin, bury it as deep as it will go and cover it so it stays there, decaying with putrid puss crawling in to every pore.

I hate myself so much. So very very much. I don't want to anymore. I don't want to be lonely anymore. I want to allow myself to be touched. I want to believe in love. I really do. I don't want to be used anymore. I want to flay myself. Rip the skin off that I offered to gilded boys that never cared. Will never care. I don't understand intimacy. I don't understand how to feel close to someone without sleeping with them. I don't understand, I don't understand.

I can never remember the good. My memory only saves the blue and the black. When I am happy it flows away while the hurt is dammed up inside me and I sink in it.

I want to truly show people who I am. Cause you don't know. Cause I don't know. I want to be hugged and accept it. I don't want to shy away from affection. I want to stop thinking that it will hurt me. I want to feel like I deserve it. I want to be able to be happy without thinking that it can be taken away from me like everything else.

I am locked into the smallest position I can get in while still typing. I want my pillows to hug me. Someone to hug me. Someone to rub my back and tell me it will be ok even if it isn't. I want to allow someone to do that. I don't want to hide anymore. But I feel like I have to. I don't know how to stop.

Oh it hurts. It really does physically hurt. It's locked around my chest and I'm heaving. I can hardly see the keys. But I have to get it out. I have to. Otherwise I'll hate myself more. I want to shut out the whispers that pull the strings around my heart. The ones that know just what to say so that I crumble and make me shout stop it over and over. My house is empty. I can shout all I want.

Why does everyone have to leave? Why did everyone have to leave? Why couldn't they just stay? Why couldn't they just hold me while I cry? Was I that horrible? As a child was I just not worth it? Maybe they did. I don't remember.

I was in such a good mood earlier. Where did it go? I don't want to change medications. The others have side affects I can't deal with. I can't. I don't want to have start all over again. I can't, I can't. So is this normal? Is it more subdued than before? I can't remember. I can never remember.

I am tired of being the strong one. I'm tired of having to hold my own hand. I am tired of trying to comfort the other half of myself that is psychotic. A friend of mine believes in true love. I want to but she says that it will take time. Am I supposed to be better when I find someone? So I have to suffer alone now?

I want to drink. I want to numb this. I want it to stop, but I know I shouldn't do that. I can never do anything my brain wants because it could be harmful. Always harmful.

Now it's gone. Now I'm numb. Whatever chemical that's in my head that stops this has finally kicked in. But it doesn't stop the longing to be held.

I wish I could stop hating myself. I really, really do. I hate being disgusted with myself when I admit I want someone. I'm supposed to be strong and deal with this on my own right? Because who wants a broken girl?

I know I have friends. But I want love. That love that you wake up to in the morning with a smile on your face. The love that can touch my brow and look me straight in the eye and he tells me I am not broken. And I believe him. I want to trust. I really do. I just don't know how. And if I don't know how to trust, how can someone else trust me? If I don't know how to love, how can anyone know how to love me?

Time Heather, it takes time.

Fuck time. It only makes things worse. It only helps me close up more. Teaches me to hide more. Teaches me how to scream with a smile on my face.

I feel so broken. I have too many pieces to pick up and I'm pretty positive that no boy wants to help me. They want a girl that's whole, a girl that happy, a girl that doesn't break, a girl that's beautiful inside. Not a girl that's broken, not a girl that's me.

But all this shit is trival right? I should be happy with what I have. With the life that I have. Could someone program my brain to think that? Could someone program my brain to stop pitying and hating myself? I've tried punishing myself for these thoughts. That just left scars and a quick release that never let it all out.

I am pathetic.


Girl said...

I actually feel like I could have written this myself (well, if I was as eloquent a writer as you). I don't know what else to say, except :(

NerdOneirik said...

Ah! lol Thanks! This was spur of the moment so the fact that you think it's eloquent makes me happy.


Mood swings are a bitch. le meh.

Hope is all we have really. I'm going to keep trying to keep the spark I have burning.

something more than ordinary said...

You asked a lot of the questions I ask myself. Let me know if you ever get any answers. There are so many "whys" it hurts. I read the post after this one. I'm glad your doing better. Sorry you had to go through it.

+/- said...

you say time makes things worse? makes you close up more? are you utilizing your therapy? they call it that for a reason. is there a chance you print these blogs out for your doctor, or that she subscribes to this? i think both of your doctors would get a better glimpse into your brain TO HELP YOU BETTER, not to punish you, not to yell at you for not telling them, but to help. i think you would all benefit from that.

also, from what i know, you are the one that prescribed no love for yourself. you assume that there is no decent man in the world that could love you. you assume that because you are damaged, that is all you will attract, which in turn would ruin your life? even if it was real love?

not to say you live in the best petrie dish for loving relationships, san francisco is pretty much for... players. you're more-often-than-not going to meet a guy that just wants to fuck. unfortunately. don't deny yourself love because that's what you think will HELP... crazy bitch ;) i love you.

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