Unanswered Questions

Take me from the turbulence of my situation, make me a pawn in your silly game. I have grown bored with the boredom of my four empty walls, nothing in between but hollow memories and broken shadows. I fill the void in my life with things of no consequence, of nurturing playthings which hold no hope of sustaining my feelings of happiness. I walk through the same door every night, shame upon my brow, hatred in my veins, exasperation in my step.

I have begun to hate this place for what it is, what it was, what it has made out of me.

I no longer wish to satisfy myself with the company of others, as they pity me; or worse yet, they misunderstand the reasons behind my personality. I am flawed beyond what is normal, unwilling to make the proper adjustments that may help me heal. Words are becoming less brilliant, with sighs and groans my preferred method of communication; but to whom will I communicate when I have cut all from my existence?

Of all the people in this world, is it myself who understands me the least? Why can't I be happy for at least a fleeting moment without having to reap the windfall of sadness that always accompanies its denial? Where have I gone wrong in all of this? Must I forever pretend to be happy, to settle for less than what I feel I deserve, in order to make sense of my own life?

Is anyone even listening anymore?

Post Script

I don't belong here. I feel as if I'm drifting in a sea which is not mine; like a false sense of well-being immediately followed by the enormous pressure of who I really am. I can't be happy and nobody can help me. I've sought solace with my thoughts and have even relied on others, professionals, but I keep dancing around the truth. I just don't know what makes me so unhappy with myself, but it's a cycle I can't control. I simultaneously want a pity party and to be left alone. I want to be able to scream what I feel at the top of my lungs without embarassment or repercussions for what I say. I do not want to spend my life in therapy, as it has only helped in areas where I didn't need help. I would have come upon those realizations myself, given time to reflect.

I choose to remain this way out of fear of what people may think if they knew the truth, and how ridiculous that truth is. I hide everything about me, even the good; I find myself now pushing away what I need most: an ear to listen, a voice to soothe. But I only hear empty compliments for a sensitive personality. I am a cold, cruel person who shouldn't be revered for anything, let alone loved. It would be a waste of time to spend any energy trying to love any part of me. I wish not to burden anyone any longer, I just want out. I'm getting closer to letting it all out, laying all of my feelings on the line; but to what end? It will only serve to reshape people's perceptions of me as someone who isn't responsible enough to be trusted alone.

I AM alone.

I am alone inside myself every day despite the others around me who truly care, even though I don't want them to. I am constantly tormented with the agony of knowing the one thing that could help me will kill my creative instincts, and I can't live with that. I find comfort in being this way because it's all I've been, but I am also uncomfortable with that comfort. It's not natural for a person to be this way, to constantly hate themselves while faking a happy existence. Whatever happens, I don't want to be judged for what I am; I'm already performing that task perfectly.

Emotionally Numb

I can't seem to get a control over my emotions. I just wish I was stable enough mentally to handle heartbreak, but I am not. I continue down this path of self destruction, the cycle never ends. I'm a failure at everything in my personal life, and I wish I would disappear because it hurts so much.

I shed tears for missed opportunities, for my own selfishness which breeds distrust among my own cells; if I can't stop being like this I'll be alone forever. But maybe forever won't last that long.

I can't rely on others to keep me upbeat, to keep me afloat in this sea of despair. I need to learn to swim, but I can't swim without assistance. The only problem that arises is that I bring everyone down with me.

I am not worthy of love from others. I deserve only the loneliness that accompanies bad decisions, the solitude that pairs itself with uncertainty.

I forgive no one, not even myself. I will continue this never-ending cycle of pain until I am numb. When that happens, nobody will notice when I am gone. Not even me.

Beautiful Suicide

I am afraid there is little joy left in me; I have lost the ability to convey compassion for others appropriately, and I feel that I have no choice but to distance myself from everyone around me. To fade into nothingness without anyone ever noticing would be the best scenario, though unlikely due to the hopes I have unwittingly thrust upon those who know me. I don't know how I arrived here, but I know for sure I have felt this way for as long as I can remember. Few events have brought me to the brink of true happiness, but reality has steadfastly remained attached to me like an anchor. I can't swim; therefore I am destined to drown. I probably need help to pull me from this submersing paranoia, but I am too smart, too clever, and too independent to accept these things. It's either listen to some therapist drivel on about the good things I have and tell me to hang in there, even though he/she doesn't have the slightest indication of what it's like to walk in my shoes for a day; or listen to someone who has supposedly been through what I've been through drone on and whine about how bad it was, and how they're better for it. Cynicism is odd like that.

Or, the third option is to tell a friend or family member about it, except I despise people who constantly bitch about their problems; so much so that I won't become one. My family is just a group of disjointed misfits anyway, unable to relate to anyone's problems but their own, casting away anybody else's feelings as insignificant. Aside from that, I don't need to burden people with my problems when everyone has their own. Watching these words form before my eyes helps a little, but I can't help myself with this exercise so there's really no point. Nobody would agree with me out of respect, but the world as I know it to be would be better if I weren't here; sure, there would be some hurt feelings for a while, but overall it would be best in the long run. Maybe I'm just trying to justify it in my own mind, but either way, I can't deal with the pain any longer. I refuse to numb it and risk becoming an addict of some sort, as that would only add to my shame. Reading this back to myself, I sound ridiculous and it only reinforces my belief that I will never do anything except suffer, as the situations in my life all seem beyond my control. I am a coward and won't ever do what should be done, which is eliminate myself from the equation.

I am tired of being me.

My self-imposed responsibilities have done nothing but given me a false sense of worth while exposing my shortcomings as a person. I wrestle with determination and exasperation with every breath I take, and exhale the same dissatisfaction regardless of the outcome. I am exhausted with chasing my potential as I wallow in inadequacy. I do not wish nor expect to live to be old, I only hope something happens to me soon so we all have a solution and someone/something else to blame. I don't have the patience to wait around either, so I'll have to come up with a solution; I'll at least have the satisfaction of following through on something for once. But you never know, maybe someone will look deeper into me for once and figure this out; as I've written before, "save me this time or I won't be the same again"....I feel as though nobody, not even the ones closest to me, truly know who I am. I may not either; maybe I write these things to see if I'll actually be surprised by them, to make myself seem so different, to feign my own troubles or exaggerate them to give myself comfort; or maybe I'm just being dramatic because it's in my DNA.

I just want to own something for once, to say that I controlled at least one aspect of my life, even if it is how it ends. That in itself would be the start of a new beginning, in a way, and then I would die rather triumphantly because I had taken control of my own destiny, as short as it may be, and aimed it in the direction of my choice. These thoughts come too easily, and I worry that those around me will never understand why; perhaps I just want the closure that I will never see with my own eyes, to finally show everyone that I fooled them with my performance of normalcy. Revenge maybe, but not for what anyone did to me. This is my life, shaped by regret and uncapitalized opportunities, solidified by self-hatred and piety at once. I just keep going, waiting but not really wanting someone to notice, because then it becomes real. Or worse, it becomes a joke, a passing feeling until it all builds into this monster again, only next time I will destroy myself. Or not. I have failed at everything else.

Selfish Realization

I've just figured it out. All of you who have clamored to show me affection, to tell me I'm the one, I get it now. Charming, attractive, funny, blah, blah, blah, etc.

Cancer.

That's what I really am, and you all know it. That's why the idea of being with me is so grand, but the actuality of it is too complicated to trespass into those waters. I wish things were different, but nobody will ever take me seriously.

Even you.

So keep pulling me in your different directions, keep showing me that love exists somewhere for me, but don't ever let me have it. Apparently I don't deserve it.

I'm far too intelligent to let this happen so often; but it does, regardless of my insistence to the contrary. I don't want to go through life so heartbroken all the time, but maybe it is my destiny. Maybe I only get happiness in bits and pieces; it is up to me to patch it all together like a quilt so I can view it later for reflection.

If that's the case, keep it.