I think about my loneliness a lot. I think of the great emptiness that I feel. I often wonder what it will take to fill it up and how long it will take. I've been waiting 20 years, possibly even more, but I'm going off as far back as I can remember. This chronic emptiness weighs on me, day in, day out. Even when I'm distracted by it at work, it somehow manages to sneak in during my rare few quiet moments. As soon as I walk out of the chaos of that building, the pain of consciousness floods back into my hungry veins.
I hold my silence, allowing chunks of myself to drift away into another occupation in time; I know that if I were to express these thoughts, they would fall on deaf ears, just as they have before. I don't even see the point in asking for help anymore. Every time I do, I'm just ignored, people get angry that I've self-harmed or I'm told to just get over it. They fail to see the agony that I'm in. You have to be in a fair amount of pain to take a razor blade to your flesh...but of course, they've never been in a position like this, so they fail to see it...a thought creeping into the back of my mind is they don't care enough about me to engage. I'm nothing more than a source of entertainment. I'm not something to offer aid, comfort or assistance to. They don't care that I'm rusting.
For the most part, I've stopped asking people to do things with me. I want to just curl up alone. Just hide away....a place where I can just get lost, stoned out of my mind. It's better to be left alone than risk more disappointment or be told once again that I'm not worth their attention and affections. Being social has been fun, but it's also been a challenge. I met the goal, now I'm pulling away. If I felt whole and deeply fulfilled by the social interaction, I'd probably want to engage in it more often and for longer periods of time. Maybe I didn't leave well enough alone..
I'm always exhausted. I'm not sleeping well anymore. Natural sleep is a thing of the past. Even when I'm both physically and emotionally exhausted I lay there looking at the clock, watching the numbers glow, sometimes catching the reflection of the digits in my pupils. The lack of sleep is weighing on me. I'm getting more frustrated faster. In the middle of the night, the sorrows that I've swallowed throughout the previous day begin to leak out of me. I lay in the dark attempting to quiet my sobs...then again, it's not like anyone around here cares anyway.
I've reached the conclusion that no matter what I do, I will always be the one in the wrong. And that my efforts will always be in vain, and that no matter how good my work ethic is, it will be exploited for the use of the less able, less motivated and the less intellectually gifted people who end I end up trapped with.
Fresh wounds and bruises coat my wrist and thighs, everything that I'm verbally unable to express bubbling to the surface. My endurance has reached its fraying point. I'm literally hanging my threats here. The cuts remain silent, hidden under sleeves, while I silently sob over the agony that is hidden inside. I wish I was able to speak to people about all of this. There are people who read this blog and think that it's bullshit what I've written and they will be offended and pissed off that this is how I feel. Take a long hard think about how YOU people have treated me. Most of the time I'm only a friend when it's convenient for people. I try so hard to be good to the people in my life. They don't return the energy that I put into it at all.
They'll complain about me being stoned or drunk or mixing prescriptions, but never ask why. They don't see or in some cases, care, that I am on the verge of falling apart. I'm doing everything I can do to numb myself out to everything around me, everything inside of me. I don't want to have to feel the things that weigh me down and make me doubt myself.
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