This is my second post on this blog. My first one had been back in April in 2012. I had even forgotten my username and password. Guess that should be considered a good thing. But it’s not. And it’s not because here I am again, and if I am here it means that all those thoughts are back. They’ve been back for a while though. Actually, they’ve never left. So much has happened since my last post. Things I could talk about forever but I am so tired.
I never wanted to be the crazy one. In fact, I never thought I would ever be. But at the end of the day, when the world is asleep and all I can hear is the sound of my heart beating, I know there’s something wrong.
What would life be like if nothing had happened? Would I have never seen the other side of my mother? Would I have grown up just like any other person and things would be ok? Or would something else have happened? Or what if she had decided not to be with him anymore after finding out what happened? I know I’ll never find the answers to any of these questions, but deep inside I can not let them go.
I wonder if this is all I’ll ever be. The crazy one. The girl that had so much potential but a loose screw inside her head kept her from doing everything she could have done.
I don’t wanna be crazy. It is all so overwhelming… I wish I could just make it all stop, erase everything.
I’ve been wondering lately, and nobody knows this, how things would be like now if I had come back to Brazil. And I’m not saying it because school here is hard or anything, but because there is a spot inside of me that doesn’t want to let go. I know it’s fear. Fear of not accomplishing everything everyone expect me to. What if I disappoint everyone who has been there for me? What if I don’t succeed? Everything they’ve done, all the help I’ve had will have been for nothing… I can’t take that.
Everybody says I’m strong. Ms B calls me resilient, but the truth is I’m not. I’m weak. And I’m tired.
I wanna get out… I wanna be free from everything around me; from all the pressure, from my fucking shitty past, from my mother, from myself. Tell whoever’s running the show that I give up. I fucking give up. I can’t fake it anymore. I don’t wanna pretend things are ok, I don’t want to pretend it doesn’t hurt. I’m tired of pretending it doesn’t feel like there are ten people inside of me, ten parts of myself just fighting each other to be in control.
All I ever did my entire life was to let people down. And it’s gonna happen again, I know it will. Somehow I’ll screw things up once more. Marjaneh was right; my mother was right. I am so fucked up, even my fucked up side knows it. So what’s the point of keep going if sooner or later things will just crumble and fall?
Where’s the button to stop all the craziness inside my head? Where’s the button to stop everything? I’m done.
1 comment
Hey. I really relate to your post. You are not alone.