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?