Days passed into months. I have not succumbed to this sadness, but it has poisoned me. My inside self, whatever it may be called, can never return to the health it once boasted. Like when I lost my innocence all those years ago. Had my idealism stripped away. I have lost the illusion the world once presented to me. I play by the rules but I have my own secret game, too. I have my own secret game and it's so rare than anyone else understands it.
I love you. I know you don't want to know it, or hear it, but I do. There are connections that some people create that stick barbs in our hearts like harpoons. These things take time to extract and sometimes the gaping hole just never closes. The scar tissue is flawed and nothing ever works in the same way again. The body adapts, but we remember how it used to feel. We remember when love was something to be cherished, not something that we put our hearts on pause for.
I told my therapist that I felt like my sorrow was part of my life. I have spent so much time focusing on other people. I said, "I don't have anyone to focus on now," and she replied, "what about yourself?" I don't know how. I mean, isn't my focus on myself what drives people away? "You feel so deeply," steel had told me. Wizard agrees. I feel everything. Everything matters. Everything is sacred, and I don't know what to do with this overwhelming flood.
It was always a person, then an event, and both, and more. There has been my suicide attempt that I've never forgiven (ten year anniversary). There has been my ex-husband, and what happened with us. Dru's death and ex-otter's changes. Without these things, who am I? "Focus on yourself." Don't you see, that's what I want to get away from?
I don't want to be this person. It has never worked for me. Why can't I be someone else; someone that isn't anxious, that isn't alone all the time, that doesn't spend so much time in self-reflection? Why can't I be what I am not? To slip under the covers of conformity sounds more and more like bliss. I've struggled against the status quo for my entire life. I have never wanted to be what everyone else is. I have always fought to be my own person. But I'm so tired now. And this way of life hasn't really worked for me. I'm 28, I'm young, but I feel so old. I have no one to love me and take care of me. If I miss my medication, I go crazy, and when I start it again I go crazy readjusting. I don't want this life. I don't want this brain or this body or these memories.
These are the times I do want to die. I'm not going to kill myself. But I want to. I know this feeling will pass, that I just have to ride it out. Honestly, I just want to lay down somewhere and cry until I pass out. Lay in a park in the sweet grass and be ignored by the people walking by. There's something in me that I lost a long time ago. There's something in me that took its place. It doesn't fit very well. Like me. I don't fit anywhere.
Looking for my puzzle piece. Listening to Lucero, and sad songs. By the window, no tears. Still remember the feeling even if I can't remember the exact song. Still remember his voice and his arms and my collapse. I wonder if he felt my heart crack. I wonder if he felt me slump.
Ten months, ten years. This must mean something.
But there isn't always meaning behind everything. That is such a hard lesson to learn. What if there is nothing behind all this pain? What if this really is all just random? What if chance is how life works? What if we're not really connected, what goes around does not come around, and the dues never get paid? What if all that I have done is worthless? What if it's all for nothing?
To turn off these thoughts, to fit in a place, to have a circle of friends, to have someone that loves me, to have someone to nurture, to believe steadfastly in something: things people take for granted. I can't be lost, because I've never been found.
This is the theme of my life.
The meaning of life? There is none.
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