I’m really all done with being a disappointment to everyone and an annoyance to most. Some cosmic force decided it would be hilarious to make people judge me unfairly. That’s okay up to a point I guess, but there is always a point where you can’t really handle it anymore. So here goes, random strangers, the thing’s I’ve wanted to say for ages, the feelings and the instances that changed everything. It’s not horribly sad, it’s not even terribly important. But I am what I am what I am and there’s really no helping it.
I have a pretty lengthy list of things I could be, might be and could maybe be. I have parents who didn’t care and now refuse to care since 19 is obviously old enough to care for myself. I’m not arguing, except when they say I’m almost 20 when I’m barely 19, as if 20 is some magical age where they can shove me out of the nest for good. Which they are but that’s no matter. What matters to me are the nights I cried to them that they act don’t exist. The phone calls from college where I’m barely hanging on that never happened in their world. My mom pointing at a scar I’ve had since I was 13 and asking if I’ve been “erasing” myself as if that’s less worrisome than the alternative of a blade. Of demanding only in the most public of places I remove the arm band I always wear to give them what they know is there so they can do nothing and I can be even more ashamed. To get help on my own just for them to find out about it and use it as amo? Not happening. They forget that I’m on their insurance, that I can’t sneeze without their permission sometimes because I can’t afford to get help without their help. I know parents don’t like to admit they messed up their kids, but my parents take the cake for denial.
Everything is done for a reason and only those affected know it.
I’ve made an art at alienating myself. Truly. Yet I know my warning signs, I know when I’m getting worse. I think that’s the scariest, the knowing that you’re sliding back down hill and not being able to do anything about it. I sometimes just have to laugh at the craziness of life because I can feel myself losing it every day yet am helpless to do anything about it. I made a pact with myself when I was 12, for the sake of it let’s call it the “Harry Potter pact” very original I know, but basically I was young and had just started reading the Harry Potter books and had somewhere in my mind stated I could kill myself when I’d read them all. Of course that’s come and gone but the deadlines have just been changing. Constantly changing. I let them because I know I don’t have the guts to end it. Not because I don’t want to, but because as much as I wish for death I love living twice as much.
Plot twist, yeah?
I know. Not very depressing behavior to admit you like…gasp… living. But in some ways I do. I look past the being alone, of being emotionally abused and of being different and an outcast. Those things hurt, they hurt a lot, but I’m stubborn. I kind of force myself to keep going with a personal motto of , “Go big or go home”. It’s pretty much a giant fuck the world I want to live for myself.
It’s hard, it’s painful at sometimes. But if you have nothing to live for that why not? Why not do what makes you happy? Why not bend the rules of society. If you are willing to die at any minute then why not live and do something crazy? Technically it’s a suicidal tendency to put yourself in risky and/or dangerous situations. To go after the day like there’s no tomorrow. But for me, it’s the alternative to the deadlines, the inner pacts. It’s an escape for the boring of the everyday. It’s something.
Am I the only one?
The only one who grasp for something instead of nothing at all?