I feel quite sleepy, not exactly numb but as if I had gone to sleep and woken up in someone else’s life; or, maybe, as a different person altogether; as if this life wasn’t my own.
I’m broken, but I’ve been so for most of my life. I don’t know what’s changed; I can’t figure out how to fix it, how to fix myself.
The problem is that there’s no one else that can help. There’s no one, other than me, that knows precisely how it’s like. That makes me feel like I have to deal it on my own; that I need to keep surviving in my little island.
It makes me sad, thinking about these things; it makes me angry with myself. I want to be better, you know? I thought I just needed to be a bit thinner and have more friends, maybe be less shy or introverted… But that’s who I am. I finally figured out that, instead of all that stuff, what I could really use is self-esteem, some good old fashioned confidence. Because not being afraid of being myself and actually being proud of it is the only way I can start to properly heal my wounds until they become mere faint scars.
I had to keep trying – over and over again. So, naturally, I reached the point of no return. I got tired of not being heard, of not mattering. Who wants to wake up every day to face judgment and rejection? There is the occasional friendliness but now it all seems so dishonest. We just got used to each other. There wasn’t any genuine love; not even a real connection. I’m simply filling a vacancy.
And I said something; I did try to talk about it. Yeah, it got better; I thought things we’re really looking up. But even that was a lie; it only lasted a couple of days until everything got back to being the living hell it used to be in my mind.
It’s time end to my misery, so I’m putting down this sorrow.