Perspective

chapter eight

Being aware, or close to aware, of being a system is difficult to say the least. I write to cope, however, when I look back its like I'm looking back at different versions of myself or a completely opposite person.

I know and feel like different people but what is "I"? It doesn't sound right saying that in this conversation. Is it a conversation? I can't really think right, straight - I mean?

Its all very confusing. Sometimes I forget I'm even a system, well we forget - no - I forget. Often times I forget who I am, or who I am gets out on the back burner while I'm - "I'm" - working on something or just doing something.

Like who I am doesn't matter in that moment cause whoever I am; it's me. Then reality sets in and I'm stuck trying to piece together who and what I am. Maybe if I don't focus on it and let my vision remain blurry and maybe even take a few steps back; I'll look whole. Instead of these broken pieces playing pretend at being a functioning human.

Perhaps I'm too harsh on myself. Why can't I be nice to myself? Where's the nice voice? There's not even a mean voice right now. It's just me. Has it always been me? That feels like I'm erasing the others.

Often times I don't believe there are others and I'm just loosing my mind. That I simply have some unheard disorder and there's no cure or help for it. I'm not trying to be special, really. I just don't want this. I don't want to be separate people. I don't want to feel permanently broken and unfixable.

I don't like feeling this way. It's fucking sucks for lack of better terms. I wish I could just be whole but I'll never experience that. At least not the way I was meant to. The person who I was before the trauma never got to be. Never got to live.

Never got to form.

I mourn her sometimes, or perhaps him, maybe even them. I mourn the person I never got to be and the person I'll never get to be. That person never even got to exist but this sad excuse of shit does. It's infuriating in a way.

Do I have a right to mourn? To be angry? To cry? To fight?

To move on?

I'm rambling. Yet, I can't stop myself. I want to scream, cry, break down, stop, go, just everything. I want everything to stop yet I want everyone at once.

I guess this is a long winded way to say: I don't know who I am and I'm afraid I never will know.

Am I this? Am I that? Am I a mixture?

I mask constantly and I don't know how to stop. I'm afraid I even do it when I'm alone. I distract myself with pointless things to feel better and not feel anything but the moment i take a breathe; it all catches up to me at once.

I don't know. I'm tired of this confusion and hurt though.