It’s a matter of time

My whole life I’ve known that there is something wrong with me, and ever since I’ve been old enough to be self-aware I’ve done a lot to make myself better. You kind of have to, yeah? In some ways it’s almost effortless. When you suffer intensely you have nothing to do but search for a way out, even if you’re just laying in bed, trying to figure everything out.

It’s this feeling of real loneliness, and an intense fear of being alone. It’s killing me. I’m in my mid-twenties and I feel like I’m at least middle-aged. I’ve fallen in love a few times but it never works out because I’m not living a natural life. I’m trapped in my own head and I make an effort, and the effort ruins my hopes and dreams. Nothing comes naturally, or just plays itself out.

I’m in love with an amazing girl. We’re friends and we almost got together last year but the timing was off and I think the opportunity is gone. But I’ll keep trying because that is the only option here. I fight this loneliness, this violent anxiety and sadness that I’m drowning in. And when I’m not drowning in it, I’m standing on the brink, fighting with every bit of energy I can muster to prevent the wind from blowing me into the abyss. I’m terrified of myself, my loneliness. I’m terrified of what will happen to me when the day comes when I know I’ve seen her or spoken to her for the last time. There’s only so much a person can take.

I have so much love to give and nothing to do with it. This makes me so sad that I have no idea where to muster the energy to do anything with my life. I’m always surviving, you know? I don’t like that. In my journal entries from years ago I constantly wrote about knowing that one day I’ll end up committing suicide, that it’s only a matter of time. Who could love me? I kick people away while trying to bring them close. It’s so painful. There is some comfort to be found in the idea that life is meaningless anyway, and that each and every one of us is insignificant, because it allows me to hold onto the notion that my failure and pain is meaningless anyway. That the love she shares with her boyfriend is meaningless too. That my failure to achieve my goals and to help people is meaningless.

I take medication that helps, and I’ve seen many good therapists but nobody knows us like we know ourselves, right? I know that I will feel this pain forever. This loneliness is something I can count on- I’d bet everything I have on that loneliness and failure. That love that I want to release that will always stay trapped inside of me. It will always stay inside me. It’s a brick in my chest and a balloon in my head. It’s not going anywhere. I’m so tired of not being able to give myself to the people I love most. I’m pathetic and dramatic, and cynical. Worse than worthless. All I can hope to do is vent on the internet.