i just don’t know anymore.

to begin, i don’t even know why i’m bothering to write here. desperation, i guess.

on the internet i broke away from communities, i got involved in some pretty nasty self-detrimental whole weight issue ones and though
that whole communal thing was great ultimately it just led to health deterioration. i kind of got out of it, i mean i’m still alive.
i’ve already tried once: to do that whole self-dying thing. it didn’t work. i woke up, rolled out of bed, and went to my eight hour shift/job at the time.
continued on as if it were a normal day. i didn’t think i’d wake up, but hey. i did.
a part of me knows i could try, and succeed this time, again.

the scary part is that i just don’t care anymore.
i don’t care. i’ve had my dreams stripped of me.
i’m alone. my friends have turned into monsters.
truly vile, evil people. people who attack one another, who care nothing about the lives of whom they demonize.
they’re not my friends any longer but
i’m just sad that they have turned out this way
especially when i dedicated so much honesty and sincerity, truly cared for them: and for what?

i won’t go into any graphic detail of how i’ve been hurt by others.
it would be vulgar, gruesome, perhaps cruel even for any reader
but my heart keeps being jabbed and jabbed and these deep wounds
i don’t know if they can keep regenerating.

it’s been a rough year
kicked off with a loss of job,
crushed dreams of what never was (moreso in regards to that whole ‘liking a coworker who doesn’t like you back’ pathetic cycle)
and a betrayal complete fucking throw ‘under the bus’ from a friend: a disgusting, repulsive, male entity

last year was tough too
kicked off with a loss of a two year long fucking relationshit.
right on new years day. yeah, he’s the one guy i hate. worse than the above mentioned male entity, to be candid.

i don’t know any more.

i’m not where i was meant to be i feel.
dreams deferred, i guess.
dreams that could not be financially supported
a very real stress that was on my family
and now me since i was driven out of that house

and i just don’t know anymore.
it’s just kind of like,
i’d finally be noticed if i was gone
no, not noticed.

i’m noticed all the time. heckled by old men, middle aged men – when just trying to buy a pack of cigs,
by punk ass kids when trying to jog
by people who think they’re my friend after one introduction who then proceed to obsess over me and my
‘single’ status that’s listed on that website most of us use.

no, notice is not the right word. perhaps validated.
i’m told consistently that i’m stupid. an idiot. a *****. a ****. a witch even (from time to time)
inadequate, evil, cruel, etc. that i’m cold then by others that i’m too nice
too compassionate, weak
too emotional, too sad, that i need to not only be happy but
grow up

i’ve done plenty of growing
i’ve done plenty of learning
i’ve done plenty of humble work
hard work
too much work
losing my mind and health work

and yet i am nothing.
just a fucking passing figure.
an anecdotal encounter.
it wouldn’t matter if i was gone
it would just be another thing to add to the list of disappointments
to the list of “what i could have been”

i ask for help constantly, either subtly or downright fucking blatantly
and it gets warped somehow time and time again.
that it’s my fault, that i should’ve known better, that i could have learned if i just ‘looked it up’ or did something differently, somehow.
somehow, ‘i done fucked up’.

i guess i just want validation. i’m not so newly twenty anymore, but validation that i’ve already exceeded what’s expected from my age in many aspects
and that’s too much to ask for. and that has been too much to ask for since i was seventeen, i guess. maybe younger. too much to ask for help without offering something in return. without doing something in return. without giving something in return. something materialistic, tangible. because thank you has never been enough. maybe one hundred “thank you”‘s and “i’m sorry”‘s. even then, even then it wasn’t enough.

i don’t know why i’m writing, to be honest
i guess i just needed to put this somewhere in case i really do disappear
doesn’t matter how, i suppose. i am mortal, after all.

i wish i just had that validation
and any ounce of assurance that it’s okay to make mistakes,
that everything bad that’s happened to me wasn’t my and my fault alone.

that is what hurts most
that feeling of the weight of the world on your shoulders
which i know is ridiculous to say
and probably sounds dramatic
but i constantly feel like i’m in emotional asphyxiation
that if i breathed the wrong way, i could ruin everything.

– morgan