I can't fucking do this anymore

I'm tired. I can't fucking handle this shit anymore.

He got me again. Yesterday. On my way in to work. He was waiting for me when I got out of my car. I didn't even see him. He dragged me into the trees and he beat me. He cracked my ribs. He raped me. He sodomized me. He came inside me because he wanted to get me pregnant again, so that he could come back and kill the baby. Again. I had to lie to my family and friends about why I was home, had to tell them I took a vacation day I didn't remember I had. I spent 3 hours in the ER being examined and xrayed and poked and prodded. And then I came home and took a bunch of pills, drank a bunch of whiskey, and slashed the fucking shit out of my leg. Why couldn't I have just died? I tried so hard. And yet I still woke up this morning. I'm still here. And everyone around me is hurting because of me. I can't tell my family the truth because there's too much going on. They'd tell me to suck it up and deal because they all have real problems. I'm so sorry that my being raped and sodomized isn't a real problem. I'm sorry that me wanting to die isn't a real problem. My best friend wants me admitted to a psych ward. She's freaking out so badly she may lose her job if she can't pull it together. And it is all my fault. Why did I have to tell anyone the truth? Why couldn't I have just kept my mouth shut like I always do? Why did I have to cut on my leg instead of my wrist? If it had been my wrist, I would be dead right now. I wouldn't have to feel so fucking guilty about ruining everyone's life.

Tonight, maybe I'll get it right. Tomorrow, maybe I won't wake up. And the world will still turn. Life will go on. And honestly? I think a lot of people will be happier for it.

I am slowly losing everything. What the fuck am I supposed to hold on to when everyone is leaving me? My sanity is already hanging by a thread, and soon, they'll be gone. They'll all be gone...

...

To my Dearest One,

 

There are so many things that I wanted you to know, so many things that I wanted to tell you, but sadly, I fear that will never be possible. I know that you understand. I know that you've felt this way before. And I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I never wanted to cause you any pain or sorrow. I never wanted to make you cry, and I know that's what you'll do. Please forgive me. I am not nor will I ever be as strong as you all think I am.

 

Forever Yours,

<3 The Siren

I wish I knew...

...what was wrong with me right now. I truly wish I had even the smallest clue, but I don't. I mean, I know that a lot of things have happened over the past few days and that those things are slowly driving me overt the edge, but I should be able to snap out of it. And, if not snap out of it, what I did last night should have made me feel better. For the first time in my life, since I have been self-harming, it didn't. Cutting didn't make me feel better at al. Alright, maybe it did for a few second, while the blood was pouring out of the wounds and when I poured the vodka over the cuts and it hurt so, so badly that I thought I was going to black out, but now...now all I feel is guilt and regret. Why do I let him have this power over me? Why do I still let him hurt me? I'm stronger than this. I'm better than this.

 

But maybe I'm not stronger than this. Maybe I'm really not any better than the whore he used to tell me I was. Maybe, just maybe, this is all there is for me. Pain and suffering and heartache and betrayal. Perhaps I am destined to be alone, to die in a pool of my own blood, seeping out through self-inflicted wounds. If that's the case, I beg you, Death, come for me soon. I fear I cannot take much more.

...

When the dam breaks this time, it will be for keeps. There will be no turning back. The flood that will ensue will surely drown us all. And it will be beautiful.

It's the Dominoe Effect, folks

Line up a bunch of dominoes and they look really impressive, right? I mean...you can create some really awesome designs with those things. The problem is, they're not at all stable. One wrong move and they all go tumbling down, destroying all the hard work you did putting them up.

 

This is my life. I try so hard to put things back together and then one wrong move sends it all crumbling to pieces again. It's not enough that I am pretty much certifiable, but everyone around me is falling apart too, and they expect me to try and hold them together. I know I put on a good act. I know that I fool them. I know that they can't see how badly I am falling apart of my own accord.

 

But is it really fair of me to let them all rely on me right now, when I can't even rely on myself? I can't hold them together when I'm unravelling. I wish I could. I wish I could be the strong one. But right now...I just have nothing left to give.

 

...and yet, I can't bring myself to admit my weakness. And so we will all fall down, one by one. Like little domino soldiers...

Bah fucking Humbug!

This isn't going to come as much of a shock to anyone reading this, but I am officially boycotting Christmas this year. No Christmas music, no Christmas decorations, no Christmas cookies...nothing. No one else in my family is even the slightest bit enthused about the holiday, and honestly, it's been pretty much nothing but a downer for me for the past few years, since my grandmother died, so what's the point? Why stress myself out to celebrate something I don't even really believe in anyway? I mean, sure, I'll have dinner with my family, if that's what we do. And if they decide to change their minds and actually want to get into the Christmas spirit, I will probably join in on the festivities. But I'm done trying to make this happen. Kinda like I'm done with everything else. Who cares anymore?

Once again...

Once again I am sitting here, thinking too much out of sheer boredom, and I can't help but ask myself: Why? Why am I so unsatisfied with my life? What did I expect things to turn out like? I mean, I've never been one to put much faith in making plans for the future because something always comes up to ruin everything. So why am I so surprised that I am still single, unmarried, childless, without a degree, working in a job with no real advancement opportunities, living at home with my parents...the list goes on and on. I think part of it is the fact that I'm just not happy with myself. I hate the way I look. I know I'm fat. I'm working on it. But it takes time, and I am not a patient person. Part of it is the fact that I feel like I wasted six years of my life, and for what? All I have to show for it is a heart that she turned to stone, a completely cynical outlook on love, and scars on my heart, body and soul. So what now? I don't want to fall in love again. I don't want to go back to school because it would be pointless. I don't want to find another job because I enjoy what I do and I love my coworkers. I don't want to move out of my parents' house because I hate the thought of living alone, and Mom needs me. So why? What is wrong with me? Why can I not be happy with the choices I am making? Am I just programmed to be miserable for the rest of my existence? If that's the case, then I want out. Now. Because this pain is becoming almost unbearable, even for me, and that's saying something.

Deep breaths...

The panic attacks are getting even more out of control. I'm not entirely sure what to do anymore. I woke up freaking out this morning for no reason at all. I don't even remember having a bad dream or anything. I took my anti-anxiety pill like I'm supposed to and it calmed me down a little, but it's starting to wear off now and I'm feeling extremely high strung. Maybe the holidays are stressing me out, I don't know. There's so much going on around me right now and sometimes I get so stressed and anxious that I just want to puke. I can't wait until Friday when I can go buy another bottle of whiskey and a bottle of vodka and probably a bottle of Kahlua too. Black and/or White Russians ftw. Maybe I'll get a couple of bottles of red wine too, why the fuck not?

The iPod is on shuffle, playing a list of Children of Bodom, Nightwish and Sonata Arctica in a completely random order. It's pretty awesome to not know what to expect next since I know all of these albums by heart. Keeps thing exciting.

Deep breaths...8 hours and I can go home, have a beer, and try to relax. Deep, slow breaths...

...I am losing my mind. Not that there was much left to lose...

Dreaming in sanguine technicolor

I know, I know. The subject doesn't make much sense, does it? But really, it does. My dreams have been so violent lately. Filled with imagine of death and destruction...and, if I didn't wake up in time, I am positive it would show my own demise. What I don't understand is why. I'm safe where I am right now. There is no one actively trying to hurt me, at least not physically. And yet...I can't shake it. This sense of foreboding is too much for me to handle right now. There is so much going on and I'm concerned that these dreams aren't so much a literal warning as some sick form of foreshadowing. But foreshadowing what? Is someone around me going to be violently attacked? Am I? Or am I finally going to slip over the edge and just...slit my wrists and be done? I mean, I realize I have a fascination with blood. The sight, the texture, the warmth...the taste. And it's no secret that I have been treated violently in the past. I have also tried to take my own life. But these dreams feel...different, somehow. And they're so vivid and feel so real that sometimes I wake up completely shocked that my sheets aren't covered in blood. I do wake up in pain. I can feel everything that happens. And I just. I don't know. It's freaking me out. It's freaking me out badly and I don't know how to stop it.

Oh...fuck...that hurts...

I can't breathe right now...I feel like I'm suffocating...I just got a text from my sister telling me that our friend Kim's baby girl was born today...on my daughter's birthday...oh God...it hurts so much...I'm so happy for her but...fuck...that...damn...my heart just shattered into a million pieces when I read that...she's a mother, and I'm not...her daughter is alive, and my little girl was taken away from me...her angel was born on the same day mine should have been...shit...shit shit shit...I don't know how to deal with this...it...just hurts...

Happy Birthday, my sweet angel...

Nine years ago, I should have given birth to an angel. I should have been able to hold her in my arms, count her little fingers and toes, look into her little face and welcome my daughter into this world. Today, I should be celebrating her ninth birthday, having a part either after she gets out of school or over the weekend. She should be inviting her friends over for cake and ice cream and games and, because she is my daughter, karaoke and a headbanging metal fest. Instead, I am struggling with every ounce of strength I have to hold back the tears, to stop myself from dropping to the ground and sobbing my heart out because I miss her so much. I never got to hold her, never got to look into her eyes, never got to hear her laugh or cry or tell me that she loves me. I never go to tell her how much I love her or watch her take her first steps or say her first word. All of those things were stolen away from me and my angel...and yet even though she was never truly with me, she is always a part of me.

Mommy loves you, Trinity Rose, and I will never, ever forget you. I will always love you with all of my heart and soul, and no matter what, you will always be my firstborn, even if you never had a chance to truly be born. I still think about you everyday and imagine what we would be doing if you had survived. I'd like to think that we would be best friends and do everything together, because let's face it kiddo, it would have been you and me against the world. I know you're out there somewhere watching over me and trying to make sure that Mommy is happy...I feel you with me every time my heart aches, every time I laugh or smile, with every tear I cry...I know that you're here. I love you. I miss you. We'll meet again one day, my sweet angel... Happy Birthday.

A thought...

If time supposedly "heals all wounds," then why, after all this time, does it hurt almost worse than it did then? Why haven't all of these years healed the wounds on my heart and soul? Is it because they can't be healed, only scabbed over, and when something comes along to trigger those emotions it's like picking off a scab and making the wound worse? Or do they actually scar and then get torn open again, simply making the wounds and scars deeper? I don't understand. I shouldn't be feeling this way after all this time if what they say is true and time really does ease the pain. Personally, I think that saying was created by people who were so terrified of their own pain, sorrow and hatred that they had to find a way to convince themselves that it would be eased and "healed" if they just ignored it long enough. Cowards, essentially. I have no fear of my own pain, hatred or sorrow. Some people would even say I thrive on it, and who am I to disagree? They're probably right. The darkness is where I find the most comfort, not only because it's familiar to me, but because it is the one place (or frame of mind, perhaps?) where I can simply be myself without being judged, where I can feel the pain and hatred and sorrow and no one tries to tell me I'm wrong. And I won't even bring "God" into it because anyone reading this knows my beliefs, or lack thereof well enough that I don't think I need to reiterate that point right now. It's all a load of bullshit.

 

"Can you ever kill the pain in my heart, even though they say angels don't kill?"

...mitä vittua?

I'm just sitting here at my desk at work, and all I want to do is cry. I don't even know what happened. It's so random. I sat down and I was fine, working along, talking to Evan because I haven't seen the boy in a week, and now I just...want to sit here, curl up in a ball under the desk and sob my heart out. This is not really unusual for me, but...I hate it when it happens. And I mean, I know I have a lot on my mind. I know that a lot is going on in my life and in my head right now, but I really should be able to control it better, or at the very least, hide it. The walls are starting to crumble and I'm terrified. I'm terrified of what they are all going to see, what they are all going to say. I don't know how to build them back up because I don't know what's tearing them down. I hate feeling helpless and defenseless like this. I hate being vulnerable.

 

...all I want is for someone to hold me and tell me that someday, somehow, everything will be okay...but I am alone...

I don't understand...

...why is it okay for everyone else to take time off or have a bad day, yet when I do the same thing or am in a bad mood, it's like the end of the world and a crime against humanity? I am not perfect. I am not a robot. I have emotions. I feel things. Just because I don't let everyone around me see them does not mean they are not there. I also make plans and need time off. I have the hours to cover it. People are allowed to take time off to play video games, why can I not take a day off to sleep after a long roadtrip and concert without being given shit about it? I just. I hate this. I hate this life and I hate this place. I hate myself for letting all of this get to me. Perkele.

Typical...so typical

All my plotting and rearranging to try to keep my plans for next week from falling through has failed. My boss isn't coming in to work at all this week, so there's no way for me to talk to her and see if she'll give me permission to move my schedule around and get my hours in over 4 days instead of 5 next week. I'm not suprised. All I do is disappoint people, myself included. I don't know why I bother planning anything, really. Whatever.

 

I will be spending my evening with my good friend Soco and lime tonight. Perhaps a few shots of vodka with a blood twist. I just want to be so wasted I can't think, feel or cry anymore. I'm tired. I'm done.

At this point, I would welcome Death.

...with open arms and the most sincere, serene smile on my face. I'm sitting here at work, shivering and sweating, my throat is so raw I can barely whisper and swallow my own saliva without wanting to cry, my head is throbbing, but because I came in to work, I now have to "suck it up and stick it out," even though they're telling everyone not to come to work if they have flu symptoms. WHATEVER. The only reason I came in today at all is because I thought I could talk to my boss about the 16-18, but she's not even fucking here! GAH! I am just going to fucking shoot myself in the face. I. Cannot. Take. This. Anymore.

Hello, I'm a giant ball of stress!

So I feel like shit. Physically. My head feels like it's stuffed with cotton and is aching, my chest is tight, my throat's on fire...my whole body feels like I got run over by a truck...and yet I can't take the day off of work to rest because I need my "sick day" for the AFI concert next week. *sighs* I think I may have figured out a way to make most of my plans work out for the next two weeks but, unfortunately, the final decision still rests with my boss and she's not usually that nice to me. Ugh.

Why can't anything just work out for me? Why can't I just have one fucking thing that doesn't stress me out and just...works? No worrying, no rearranging everything, no disappointing anyone (or everyone)...just...one thing to go right. Once. That's all I want. Really.

Ugh. Ugh ugh urgh ugh urgh blah bleh meh urgh.

That is all.

...and they all fall down...

Well, I just watched my life fall apart in about 2.5 seconds. Awesome. I love this. Seriously. Every single plan I had for the next two weeks just fell apart. I've been waiting for this Metallica concert for months, and now I can't go. I promised my mom I would go to Philadelphia with her to see AFI, and now I can't go. I promised my BEST FRIEND that I would come and see her for her birthday, and now I can't. I can't do any of this because, unbeknownst to me, I HAVE NO FUCKING VACATION TIME. This is what happens when companies get cheap and don't give us paystubs anymore. If I got a paystub in the mail, I'd have known that I had no vacation time, and I wouldn't have fucking made plans. But no, of course not! I get fucking blindsided literally a week before all of this is supposed to happen, and now I have a bunch of people really, really upset with me! What the fuck am I supposed to do?! Nothing, that's what. I just have to suck it up and deal. And let everyone be pissed off at me for ruining their plans. Fuck. My. Life. I'm just going to go to sleep and pray that I don't wake up...

Reflections in Autumn

I'm sitting here...watching the world slowly dying around me once more...and it feels a bit like looking in the mirror...the leaves fall from the trees, littering the ground, just as my blood falls from my veins, leaving a pool at my feet...the weather grows colder, the same way my heart slowly turns to ice...Mother Nature claims her victims once again, just as the cold, cruel eyes of Fate lock upon me once again...the only difference is...

 

...the world will be reborn in the spring...I, however, will simply continue to fade until there is nothing left...

 

...what's wrong with me? Why am I falling into this cycle again? Nothing's happened...not recently, anyway. Nothing so terrible that it should make me want to give up and simply allow myself to wither away. And yet, I'm not strong enough to stop it. I don't know that I even want to. Every second that passes is another excruciating moment in which I have to draw in another breath and try and paint on a fake smile, and honestly? The paint is dried and cracking, nothing I can do can save it anymore. The bristles have fallen out of all of my brushes, so now, when I go to paint on what the world wants to see, it comes out in a twisted, frightening mess. Perhaps, finally, I am giving them all a true reflection of my soul. Maybe I have finally grown tired of all the games, of playing dress up simply because it's what they want. This should be a relief, and yet...I'm frightened. More frightened than I have ever been in my life. It's not a good feeling to look into the mirror, into your own soul, and be terrified of what you see. Though, I have to admit, it's also strangely comforting; I finally recognize myself when I look into my own eyes.

 

It's time to take off the mask and show them all my true colors...I have grown so weary of this tiresome disguise...

 

...I'm sorry...

 

 

This has got to stop.

...this crying myself to sleep every night. I can't take it anymore. I have no idea why it's happening, but for the past week and a half, I've fallen asleep bawling my eyes out. It doesn't matter if I take a melatonin or one of my prescription sleeping pills, doesn't help if I take my anti-depressants or my anti-anxiety pills...doesn't even seem to do any good if I get tipsy on Soco before I lie down. It's always the same. As soon as the lights go out and everything around me is quiet, I end up in tears. I suppose one could say that I've been incredibly stressed out lately, but these aren't really "stress" tears...I don't know if that makes sense to anyone but me, though. I guess...I just feel really, really sad a lot of the time lately, even if I do put on a fake smile and try to fool everyone...the worst part is, fooling them is working. No one has any idea that I cry myself to sleep every night, that I keep trying to find ways to cause myself pain (safety pins, my nails, scissors...when I get paid on Friday I'm planning to go out and buy some sort of blade again, because I just can't take anymore...) but then again, I've always been really good at hiding it (especially the cuts...I've only really screwed that up twice in my life by cutting on my wrists in the summer when I couldn't wear long sleeves...I know better now.) Blah.

 

...maybe the worst part isn't that I'm fooling them. Maybe the worst part is that not only am I fooling myself into thinking that this is okay, I actually kinda, sorta, in some sick, twisted way, want this to be okay, because honestly...? This is all I have ever known. It is my comfort zone. I think I would be worse off if someone suddenly snapped their fingers and I was 100% happy. How sad.

Sing to me, TK.

Breathing
(Tony Kakko)

I take my hat off, bow before the greatness
You´re so much braver I give you credit for
Somehow the grays create a harmony
And no color can add a flavor...
I´ve started to feel like...

know the face, familiar stranger
I´m not a child, I feel misunderstood
I built a bridge, you use the tunnel...now...
-the rope we are pulling is slipping away from me
all this wasted time is killing me...and I've started to feel like...

I can not control my life anymore
Feel a need to leave and breathe on my own
I remember all the broken songs of our life
Maybe one more wrong will make it all right...
I just really need to be alone now...

I can not control my life anymore
Feel a need to leave and breathe on my own
I remember all the broken songs of our life
Maybe one more wrong will make it all right...
I just really need to be alone now...

...why?

For the love of all things metal...WHY am I sitting here crying?

...

I can't shake the feeling that there's something really...horrible...waiting in the shadows for me. I can almost feel it there, biding its time, practically breathing down my neck while it waits for the perfect moment to strike. Things have been far too quiet lately, truly; even my nightmares have been mild, comparitively speaking. I hate this feeling, this waiting...as much as I fear what's coming for me, I wish that it would simply make its move and be done with it so that I can start healing again. This uncertainty, this fear...it's almost worse than any pain or suffering that could be dealt to me. I'm so used to pain, it's hardly noticable anymore, anyway...

...

...all I want to do is curl up in a ball, turn off all the lights, and cry until I can no longer breathe...alone in the dark...because that is all I am. Alone. In the dark. Always and forever. The problem is, the tears just won't fall anymore. No matter how hard I try, they won't come. I can't even force it. Everything is so completely overwhelming right now that I can't even begin to put it into words. I feel so defeated...

I hate this...

Why is it that, all the sudden, every time I walk into this hospital my anxiety shoots through the roof? What am I so fucking afraid of, being here? I don't understand it...if I was going to be afraid of any part of this place, it would be outside, in that parking lot...although, come to think of it, it does start as soon as I get out of my car...*sighs* Even now, from nearly 1000 miles away, he still holds control over me somehow. It's such bullshit...I just want to be free from this, to not be reminded all the time...and of course, that's not possible...and there's no other place for me to park because all the lots are full...perkele...

 

I need to relax or I'm going to make a mistake. I can't afford to make a mistake. I already feel like everyone is watching me, just waiting for me to screw up. Fuck, I hate paranoia. I want out...

My heart exists only to be broken...

I never imagined that I could feel anymore pain than my soul already possessed, and yet, somehow...somehow, at this very moment, I feel more shattered and destroyed than I ever have before. I would love to give you all a reason why, but sadly, I do not have that knowledge myself. I simply feel empty and lost...moreso than I thought was possible. I should have stayed away...should have stayed hidden...should have at least tried to stay out of sight as I was before...but he was right there...right there...right in my arms...perkele...

 

I cannot control my life anymore

Feel a need to leave and breathe on my own

I remember all the broken songs of our life

Maybe one more wrong will make it all right

I just really need to be alone now…

                      ~Tony Kakko from Breathe

 

Maybe this camping trip will help calm me down again. Calm both of us down. Or all four of us. This is so much harder than I thought it would be...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

...

I have to find a way to forget...to shut my heart off and push aside everything I've allowed myself to love and hold dear. It cannot ever work. It will not ever work. And I knew that. I knew that from the very beginning of all of this. But once again, I couldn't stop it. Damn my heart. Damn it straight to Hell and back. I hate this.

Never again will I let myself fall...never, ever again...

"Solitude, my pain, the last thing left of me..."

*sigh*

Good night.

Why...?

...can't I seem to go one day without having a major panic attack? Yesterday's was bad enough, coming out of nowhere after my 15 minute break, but today...today I woke up shaky and freaking out...and it won't stop...I took my medication, and that's not helping...I even skipped my cup of coffee this morning thinking maybe I've been drinking too much caffeine lately...but no...I actually think that may have been a huge mistake...

 

What's wrong with me? It's not like anything has happened...not really...not in the past week...I just can't seem to calm down...can't get a grip on myself...it's starting to really scare me, because the last time...well...the last time this happened...the last time I was having constant panic attacks...I...let's just say it almost didn't end well...I really don't want history to repeat itself in that respect...

 

...fuck...

...*sigh*...

I really, truly do not understand myself sometimes. I should be feeling the greatest sense of relief right now, and instead I feel...well, honestly, almost disappointed. Empty may be a better way to put it. I mean...I know that it would have been a disaster. I wouldn't have been able to keep it...there is no way that would have been possible. And yet at the same time...I still feel like I lost something, even though there was (probably) nothing there to lose. It just makes me think that maybe this isn't as simple as having a really horrible period...it makes me think that...*sighs* Oh God...at least...at least I'll never know for sure...I can delude myself into thinking that it is simply my period, and that's that. My heart may know the truth, but that does not mean that I have to allow the pain and despair to consume my mind...I can lie to myself much more easily than I can allow myself to accept and acknowledge the truth...

I'm done...

I can't take this anymore. I'm done. I'm tired of letting everyone down. I'm tired of being bitched at 24/7. I'm tired of trying my hardest and still failing. Nothing I do is right. Nothing I ever do will be right. My whole life has been one big mistake, and now, it ends. Good night...

I can't do this...

I sat there with the phone in my hand for an hour this morning. An hour exactly. I had the number dialed, I just couldn't make myself hit send. Why am I torturing myself like this? The longer I let it go, the harder it's going to be...if I let it get to a point where I can actually feel something growing, I won't be able to go through with what I need to do. So why can't I just do what I need to do and get it over with? It's not like this is anything new...I've been through it before. Okay, so maybe it wasn't my choice, but I've still been through it. And it's not like I can keep it. Not only am I in no place emotionally or financially, I just...I can't have his baby...I can't...I was going to, once upon a time, but he destroyed her. He destroyed me.  I will not take the chance of bringing another horrible, heartless soul like him into this world. No. I know how selfish that sounds, believe me. I also know how contradictory it is to what I always say, so let me make one thing very clear...I would love to have a child of my own, but not like this. Not surrounded by years of pain and suffering and fear and torture. I can't do it. I won't do it. It wouldn't be fair to me or the baby, because I would always, always associate an "innocent" child with the sins and horrors that its father committed...*sighs* I really need to just force myself to call tomorrow. It's early enough that it would be a simple procedure, in and out, no longterm effects...well, physically. Emotionally, this may just be the final straw. I may snap. We shall see. Then again, maybe I'll get lucky and just miscarry before I even have to make the decision to call...wouldn't that be a twisted, sickening blessing...*sighs*

 

Fuck my life.

I am tired...

...so very, very tired of trying. No matter what I do, nothing is ever going to change. My heart will still remain shattered within my chest, the tiny shards becoming embedded deeper and deeper into my soul with every weakened beat...I will remain broken and beaten, shedding my tears in vain, alone, just as I always have. Why can I not simply learn to accept that this is what my life is? And no, I am not talking about accepting the darkness...anyone who has ever spoken with me on that subject is well aware of the fact that I not only accept the darkness inside of me, I embrace it. No...I am speaking more of the innate desire to try and be something that, frankly, I cannot be. To try and be what they wish for me to be, what they desire from me. I am who I am, and there is no way to change that. In all honesty, I cannot say that I would even want to. My strength lies in suffering, and I accept that. I thrive in pain and sorrow. That is who I am. That is what my soul needs in order to survive. Yet everyone around me expects a smile, expects me to be happy and bubbly and outgoing, because they cannot see the pain that lies deep within my very soul. They do not know of the demons which rage inside my mind on a daily basis. They will never know the truth...Admittedly, their expectations are, in their eyes, fair, because they do not know. They do not understand. In the same way, my status of being the "outcast" or "black sheep" of the family is, in a sense, self inflicted. I suppose that means I should wear it as a badge of honor; all of my favorite wounds are self inflicted in one way or another, are they not? The scars I wear with pride...both inside and out. But this is...different somehow. This is not about me accepting myself. This is about the people who are supposed to love me unconditionally accepting not even me, but the mere fact that I am not like them. Indeed, my true kin is where my heart lies...my Ocean Soul...*sighs*

...

...all I want to do right now is sit at my desk, mind my own business, listen to my iPod and try desperately not to cry. I feel so sick and my entire body hurts so badly and instead of just leaving me alone, they're forcing me to go work in one of the busiest areas in the lab... I would love to simply scream at them and tell them what happened last night, but we all know that I don't have that luxury...instead, I have to keep my mouth shut, paint on the ever present fake smile, and torture myself for the next several hours. I hate this. I hate having to hold all of this pain inside. I hate that I can't tell anyone about the Hell that I'm going through. I hate that I have to carry this burden alone and try to pretend that everything is alright when it's really, really not...

God, I hate myself right now.

Why can't I simply be happy for him? Why does it all have to turn inward and make me feel like shit, which, in turn, makes me feel like a horrible, selfish person? He deserves this. He's worked his ass off. And I truly am so, so happy for him. I would never, ever let him or anyone else around me know how this makes me feel about myself, because that would be completely unfair. These feelings of inadequacy have nothing to do with him. He is not the one who made me a complete and utter failure at anything that would actually make my family proud of me. I did that all by myself.

 

 

So this is what it feels like...

...to realize that one of the few people who you thought knew you, really knew you, doesn't have a goddamn clue who you are. It's quite a slap in the face, honestly. To suddenly see the truth when it's been right there in front of your face all along. I don't even know what else to say right now. I'm stunned and hurt beyond all reason. I am so, so glad that I have wine right now. I need to just get drunk and forget everything. Fuck this shit. Fuck it all.

Illa lacrima es verus

Disclaimer: This was written out last night in my notebook before I went to sleep...I was too lazy to turn the computer back on and type it up, but it had to get out of my head, so...I thought about not even posting it at all, but I felt that it was something that needed to be said, even if the people who really need to know these things will never see this at all. *sigh* Anyway...onward...

Illa lacria es verus...

Just because you don't understand them does not mean that they don't have a purpose. And fuck you all for trying to tell me how I should and shouldn't feel, what I should and shouldn't do. You don't know me at all. You never have, and you never will. You don't even try. Why should I bother even trying to please you anymore when nothing I will ever do is good enough for you? Why should I care what you think when you can see me crying and tell me that it's all a joke?

These tears are real. These scars are real.

...this pain that I carry in my heart is more real than you could ever imagine...even if you did know the truth, there is no way you could ever truly comprehend how I feel. Even if I told you, you wouldn't believe me. You never believe me. Ever. Which is why I have suffered in silence all these years.

And you know what? I don't want you to know this pain, because I don't want you to hurt like I do. I don't want you to know what you lost, what I lost, what we all lost. I don't want you to see behind the mask, to see my true colors, because I would never forgive myself for the way that would tear your heart apart. And in so many ways it sickens me to feel that way because I know that the only way for you to ever truly accept me as I am is for you to see the truth. But that will never happen. That can never happen, because I won't allow it. And in so many ways, I am truly sorry. I have built this wall between us, between myself and the rest of the world, and that's just the way it has to be. Because there is no other way. There never has been.

This was what I was created for. To suffer. To cry. To bleed. And as sick as this will sound, there are times when I am almost grateful for the pain I have known in my life. It has made me who I am, sculpted me into a far stronger person than I would have been without it. I have learned to embrace the darkness instead of shying away from it, and it has become like a best friend to me...in truth, it has become a part of me. I have leanred to appreciate every little shred of happiness that comes my way more than anything because they are so rare and fleeting and, without the pain of loss and the suffering I have endured, I would probably take all of that for granted just like everyone else.

But that doesn't mean that I don't need comforting from time to time. I can't do it all myself, no matter how much I would like to believe that. So why......why is it to much to as for you to simply hold me, even if you don't understand why I'm crying? And why does every single tear have to lead to a lecture on what I could do to "fix my life"? There is no fixing this. There never will be. Truly, I don't believe that there ever was. As I said above, this is what I was born for. This is my purpose. But that doesn't mean that I don't need comforting from time to time, even if it feels pointless...in some way, deep down, it really does help...

*sigh* This is far too long winded, and I should simply stop now. I don't know what prompted me to be so candid, but here it is. Laid out bare for the world to see if they so choose. I should point out that this is not directed toward anyone in particular, not even a little bit. It's more...the tired, frightened ramblings of an empty, misplaced soul...Good night.

I will not cry...

I will not cry...

 

I will not cry...

 

I will not cry...

 

Not here...not like this...not in front of everyone...

 

I refuse to let them see the truth...to let them see the pain that I hold so deep inside my heart and mind...I refuse to let them pity or ridicule me...I will not break down...no matter how much I want to...

 

I will simply straighten the mask and ensure that it covers every bit of emotion that may try to show through on my face and in my eyes. I can continue to hide forever, if need be. I know how to protect myself, now, and there is nothing anyone can do to hurt me. Nothing can hurt me...nothing can hurt me...nothing can hurt me...

 

...and yet this pain runs so deep I cannot breathe...

 

 

 

It almost feels like coming home...

...and in some ways, I suppose that's exactly what it is. Settling down, tucking in...slipping into the shadows which have been my comfort for so, so long. It's quite nice here. Cold and dark. Some would call it desolate. I call it comforting. The darkest corners of my mind are the safest ones. The ones where I can be myself, show my true colors. Sometimes it seems like it is only when my heart and soul are both shattered and bleeding around me that I can truly feel whole, at peace. I realize that should frighten me, but it doesn't. I have felt true fear and seen too many horrible things to be afraid of what my own consciousness gives birth to. Or subconscious, for that matter. It's all relative, anyway.

 

All I know is that for the first time in a long time, I feel "normal." And in a way, that does scare me. Because right at this moment, I have fallen further down into the depths of my own heartache and despair than I have been in a long time. And that is when I feel normal. When I feel right. When I feel like I actually understand myself. When the darkness closes in and threatens to suffocate me, I welcome it with open arms. Because it is all that I have ever had. It is me.

 

...I think I am starting to learn the true meaning of being born under a "dark star"...and I know for a fact that my soul, if it holds any color at all, is the purest, deepest black that anyone has ever seen. Perhaps the light touches it in some way...small flecks of starlight...but, like the moon, there is a side of me which, no matter how much the "sun" tries to share its light with me, shall always remain dark. And that side, the dark side...that is where I thrive.

 

 

...

There is something wrong with me. I can feel it. Running through my veins. Spreading further through my body with every weak, exhausted beat of my heart. There is no way to stop it. Soon enough, it will simply consume all that I am and all that I will ever be. This runs deeper than anything else I have ever felt in my life. It's out of control. I can't even identify what it is...it simply exists inside me, around me...sometimes, I think that it is me and I am simply its host. That is not a pleasant thought, believe me. Whatever it is...it is not right. It is not normal or sane in any way. And yet...somehow, it's also strangely comforting...

...am I losing my mind?