Sunday, November 11, 2012

So what happens now?

I don't know who I am anymore.
I lost myself almost 7 years ago.
When she died, so did I, in a way. I feel so empty and lost and alone. Nobody reads my blog, so what harm will come of me posting my feelings. Nobody is there to hear me, to comfort me, to dry these tears that come nearly every day. I don't even tell my best friends how I feel.
It feels like I was forced onto a bullet train to nowhere and when I came out the other end, I wasn't me anymore. I had been transformed into some empty shelled, robotic version of myself. Many days I wake up, wishing that I hadn't. There are other things that contribute to these feelings.
I don't have a family of my own. No significant other, no children, and I think I never will. My sister has her own family. Married with children, three of which are adults now and two of those are starting lives of their own. It's not something that anyone does on purpose, but I feel so, left out, forgotten.
I try to reach out, into the vastness of the world and when I pull my hands back, they're empty. Always empty. I drag myself from my bed and put on my mask, every single hate-filled day. I smile and laugh when expected to. I never let anyone see behind the facade. But sometimes I feel the cracks grow and i'm terrified that people will see, so I stuff them full of things. Things that make me forget, even if only for a short while, that i'm so lost, empty, hollow. And no, alcohol and drugs aren't either of those things.
Abusing substances doesn't solve anything.
I used to write, mostly poetry. I don't think I was ever really that good at it, but I kind of miss it. I haven't written anything in these last six and a half years. I stare at the screen, or the paper...and it just stares right back at me, mocking me with its emptiness.
I used to be expressive. I was never outgoing or happy go lucky, but I wasn't this thing that i've become.
The only thing that I currently use to fill my time is listening to music. It helps numb the pain, if only for a very short while. I've never been musically gifted in any way, but it lets me let go, without judging me. Without leaving me behind. Without letting go of my hand. But at the end of the day, the music ends and there's nothing left but me and my ever tormenting thoughts.
No, im not suicidal.
Sometimes I'm just tired of existing, especially when it feels like there's point.

If anyone does read this. Don't flip out and call the looney bin on me. Don't ask me if i'm okay. Don't get in my face and insist I get help. I'll only tell you to fuck off and mind your own business.
I'm a bottler. It's the only coping mechanism I have.
I'm just venting, so please, don't form an intervention for me.
If you want to offer kind words of love and encouragment, by all means, give them to me. Kind words of love and encouragment, without the hint of "oh man, she's really lost her marbles".
Right now I just want to be left alone with my K-pop and Steam Powered Giraffe.
You heard me.

Steam. Powered. Giraffe.

1 comment:

  1. Your blog was read. Off and on, but read. I just read this. I missed you and searched out your blog. A long time to wait, but I can tell you that I often feel the same as you did here. I'm ill every day and when my longstanding relationship with Mark ended...and how it ended...I'm still not fully recovered. I try not to talk about it too much, though Mollie makes me smile when she talks about how angry it makes her.

    My head is spinning. Spinning for you. Spinning because I've not been able to keep anything down in about 24 hours so I finally just dissolved a Xanax under my tongue so I can at least sleep. I miss writing in my blog. I hope you get this message someday and it makes you smile that we were alone together.