Triggered Thinking

I'm not exactly sure what triggers these moments, but lately I've succumbed to sitting alone in complete silence. Thinking.

About the past, about the future, but getting nowhere. The boundaries placed around me are real and imagined, yet I no longer really know the difference. Hatred for myself consumes me like a fire burning within my own mind, and the fleeting moments of satisfaction only serve to raise me up higher for an inevitable fall back to reality. My problems are no different than most; we all struggle, I know that. But mine are mine, so how dare anyone mute their importance when it's all I have? I continually draw in others as dressing for my wounds, but if they fall off too easily I am upset at my exposure; if they stick too long it becomes painful to tear them away.

The ever-present words of encouragement are easy to come by; I may not have many friends, but the ones I do have are invaluable to me because they still attempt to keep my head above water, even when I want to breathe underneath the surface and face the consequences. This ebb and flow of overwhelming hopelessness is nothing new, but it is getting old. I like to pretend everything is ok, even when it isn't, and that will never change. It is not the responsibility of others to keep my spirits lifted just to have them beaten back down to where they belong when they're gone. Why should anyone have to babysit my ego when it's my responsibility to keep it checked in the first place?

I guess in some way we all feel like this; but when I'm sitting here all alone, with nothing else except a way to jot down these thoughts, there's no use in denying how I feel. Don't you sit there and pity me through your screen, I don't have any use for that. Nothing makes the pain go away. Not even thinking.