Life is Pain

I’ve only posted once here before. I thought things were getting better. I was sadly mistaken.

I was finally in a place of stability, fine with being alone and stimulating my mind and spirit with books. Then he came along, a complete mirage. He turned me into this ugly thing – fragile, fluttering hope personified. The fantasy melted away like candle wax, exposing him to be a desperate, trembling, unstable demon that sexually assaulted me. It is over between us, but I am traumatized. How did I end up here?

I often feel as though everyone is pretending. My friends feel more like acquaintances, praising themselves for patience and kindness for tolerating me. Friends who claim to care deeply for me have ulterior motives covered by lies. Or they are so self-absorbed that they can’t be bothered to even celebrate my birthday even though I went out of my way to make sure their birthday was special.

“Although that knife was chipping away at me, they turned their eyes away and went home to sleep.” – Mariah Carey

I went to a funeral today and all I could think about was my own funeral. Would people really miss me or would there be many fakers in attendance that are only sad because they’re supposed to? I felt jealous that I wasn’t cold in the ground too as I watched the casket get lowered.

In any given situation, I feel sad or uncomfortable or misunderstood or self conscious or invisible. At least a few times a week ever since I can remember, I think of death as a tempting option. No one would be all that surprised if I chose it. The pain is unrelenting no matter who I talk to, what pills I take, how much I try to force positive thinking into my brain.

Lately I feel like I should probably be locked away in a psych ward. But I’ve known that hell before. What’s the point? (I don’t have medical insurance anyway)

Even if things seem good for a short time, it all just falls apart anyway.