God, I'll regret writing this and then posting it.
I haven't screamed into the void in a while but I guess it's because I've been trying not to inconvenience it. It always comes down to this though, doesn't it?
I'm so obsessed with my flaws and focused on hating myself- it's selfish really. Not caring about what other people's supposedly objectively true feelings towards me are because I assume everyone is lying to me anyway.
That's such a huge assumption and for someone who hates herself, I'm certainly obsessed with my own self. Inflating other people's worth of me, then thinking I occupy too much space, too much time, I ask for too much attention even if I just want someone to tell me they missed me.
I don't want to inconvenience anyone, you know?
But it would be nice to know I existed in people's minds. A little inconveniently.
Because it wouldn't be my fault, it would be theirs.
I guess what I'm trying to say is, it would be nice if I didn't have to ask for the soft things in life. The kindness, the comfort, the reassurance– I know it's not a good thing to do good things and expect them back but how long before people realise that the cup I'm sharing from has been empty a long time and my acts of love have been miraculous acts of resilience and being kind to other people is the only thing keeping me alive?
If I can't nurture myself, if I can't love me,
If I can't find it in me to want to live,
I can at least make sure no one else around me feels this way. And if they do, I can be there to help. I like being selfless but...I wish someone did that for me.
I can't ask anyone to put in that effort though. It's not fair to ask someone to deal with this entire fucking mess I've made of myself.
I keep contradicting myself, a lot.
I don't even know what I want. There's truth buried in here somewhere but the fact is I'm too tired to discern fact from fiction and my anxiety from reality and there's no one I can count on to reassure me except my own self when my god complex hits but it isn't 4 am yet and so I guess I can't save myself.
Maybe it's not a bad thing.
I don't think I'm worth saving anyway.
All this energy can be expended in making sure everyone else knows that they need to make it in life alive and happy though, because they're all worth it. I can't be happy because the things that make me happy are always far and distant and always out of reach. I don't have it in me to wait anymore.
I'll be fine, I think. There's comfort in knowing you're damned. It's a predictable fate. It's familiar. And sometimes knowing that you won't be saved is better than being surprised because at least there aren't any plot twists to fuck with your life and emotions anymore.
Speaking of emotions, I've been pretending for the past few weeks. I type all my I love yous and thank yous with a straight face. There's a void open in my chest that swallows all my feelings before I feel them and I know I hate that void right now but once I feel the good, I'll remember that I'll have to feel the bad and oh god, anything to avoid feeling the bad stuff. Even if it means I have to give up the good stuff.
I haven't really done anything wrong but I don't think I deserve the good stuff; but I'm a liar.
I lie for my own fun and then act around my friends as if I have some high morals but the truth is I don't give a fuck.
I don't know why I pretend to be better than I am- wait, yeah I do. I just don't want anyone to leave me because if I lose the friends I have now, I doubt I'll ever be able to make more again and I'm not normally afraid of being alone but feeling undesirable sucks.
I'm used to it though but just,,,the idea of going back to a bad place after knowing what the good feels like is a little scary.
I'll manage though. I've done it before.
It's only a matter of time.
Me and this void, against the world.
Not a bad thing really. It started this way, it's fitting that this is how it would end too. Predictability is always fun. The plot doesn't change, the script is the same and there was a time where I saw a future that was less lonely but realistically, the chances of it never happening were always more than the alternative.
That seems to be the case with things I love: them not happening is a greater likelihood. I sound so pessimistic but giving up hope is always a smarter idea.
The chances of getting hurt always seem to be less that way. And you don't inconvenience yourself with false hope and the feelings after it. And I'll stand by the fact that regret is the second worst emotion after jealousy.
I'm glad I haven't actually felt anything in a while. I think I can go my entire life being numb. It's more peaceful than the alternative. I'll be okay till I've decided to not want to be anymore. Hopefully that day won't be soon but if it is, I wouldn't mind that either.
Sorry if this was long, void. I've been holding shit back for a long time and I figured if no one else but me understood me or told me that I've convinced myself about the bad things I know people think, I might as well as cry out for help here. It won't come though.
And if it does, I hope it's too late.
It'd be nice to know someone would weep over my grave.
