I feel so alone. And scared. Even when I’m with my loving family, making not very funny jokes. When we’re drinking holiday drinks, and relaxing. I think it’s the small talk that gets to me. For them it’s just small talk. For me it’s all I have. It’s a reminder that I can never be real, with anyone. I can’t ever say what I’m really thinking – because it’s terrible, and it would either destroy them or me.
I’m an awful person. But I’m attached to my own awfulness. The idea of letting go of it, of somehow changing how my mind works – it just feels impossible.
I am an addict. I am addicted to life. I am addicted to making myself miserable, in so many myriad ways. Maybe there’s some comfort in recognizing that. Nothing lasts forever, however unbearable and endless each moment may feel. Death is coming for all of us – and perhaps for some it’s a gift.
1 comment
The part where you said that small talk is all you have, but for them is just small talk, really resonated with me. I was just thinking about that the other day and how i tend to misinterpret people’s intentions because of how little i interact with them. Like, if someone speaks to me nicely in person for me it means the world, but for them it’s just trivial.
I do get what you say about never being able to say what you really think because you’d hurt people… used to happen to me all the time (and still happens to me from time to time). Idk if i’m right about this, but maybe your perception of something awful might not be that awful to others. There’s also the fact that everyone thinks really awful things about others from time to time, but they learn to “modulate” them in order not to create chaos around them (not lying, just picking your words carefully). I know it sounds stupid but it has worked for me, might be worth giving it a shot.
Being addicted to making yourself miserable?… *raises hand*, i’m guilty of that too. You’d be surprised how many “normal” people are guilty of that as well.