Adversity

I’m so sick of feeling trapped in this catastrophic excuse for a life. It’s hard to determine what’s in my best interest when reality is something that always finds a way to slip through my fingers. What’s rational? What’s not? What’s normal? Is it really “all in my head”? I think not. Everyone’s so fucking two-faced, including myself, but that’s because I just don’t know what I want. I thought I found the strength to break up with my boyfriend, who is a source of my unhappiness, but he is also a major source of stability, a trusted opinion to help control my anger and emotions by attempting to interpret these situations from a neutral perspective. But what’s more important, my sanity or happiness? Now, I could attempt to find sanity by being alone, but quite frankly, I’m not sure if I care enough. I’m not sure I can. A support system is a good place to start, but how is oscillating from one extreme to another suppose to be considered reliable? One day we’re fine, the next she’s backstabbing me through disrespect, turning herself into an object of betrayal once again, something that’s taken months to get past. A home is where you’re suppose to go and feel safe, yet I’m stuck with a nightmare of a roommate who slurps up my sloppy seconds in both friends and guys. The reason you cut off friendships (and relationships) is because those people are toxic to you, like a dark cloud constantly lurking in the shadows followed by imprudence. It took months of convincing myself that this anxiety, this paranoia, stems from an absurdity induced by an anomaly in my brain, an imbalance of neurotransmitters, a structural deviation of the frontal and prefrontal cortices, limbic system, gray and white matter, and so on. And it’s all destroyed by one sad, bored, pathetic excuse for a person who insists on starting problems that could have easily been avoided, causing me unnecessary stress over the fact I can’t even go to my own apartment because my roommate insists on having someone over whom I hate, whom I used to be friends with, whom I quite frankly want nothing to do with considering she fist fought me twice, called me fat, told me to kill myself, and so forth, while this person is the one who still actively cuts themselves. It’s really quite pathetic, especially when there’s no reason they can’t hang out at the other girl’s house, or for all I care, smoke a fucking blunt in their car in the parking lot of our apartment. But, quoting my roommate, “I can’t make everyone around me accommodate to my needs and can’t get everything I want”. It makes sense, right? For her to put me in stressful situations that instigate problems. But it takes two to tango.