July 2, 2013
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don’t even waste your time reading this
You know, there was a time when I really hated myself. I thought I was the scum of the Earth, that I didn’t deserve even the shitty emotionally abusive high school relationship I was in. There was a time when I saw myself as a wimp and a whipping post; what was my life, my whole life, everything in my life, when I could help someone else? I was still worth nothing, but there was something valuable in that nothing. Sometimes I still feel that way… a lot of times. Regardless. Then there came a time when I truly and honestly believed I am a good person and that my karma was just building for something amazing. And sometimes I still feel that way too… not as much though.
Now, I think there is a paradoxical mix of all of that in me. I don’t think I deserve nearly all that I have, even the shittiest of relationships that I maintain. I think that I deserve all the shit people put me through. I must. Right? I mean, I can’t even do normal people things. I can barely go to work anymore. I spend the majority of my free time trying to figure out how I can smoke because smoking is the only way I don’t feel like I’m going to just break at any moment. The majority (not all, but definitely a large amount) of my anxiety is about my loneliness and yet I find myself not leaving my room because of my anxiety or because I’m already stoned. I’m just not functioning. I’m actually hoping this headache never goes away because it’s a viable excuse to do less; for some reason crippling mental illness is not. But because I view myself as so worthless, so trivial, to help others is…it makes me worth something. I’m not wasting my time on stupid me and yet I’m still doing something productive and I’m helping someone who might feel like me. Who does deserve it. Because I am worth so little I can sacrifice everything I have to help anyone who needs it. And I have. I do. And yet by helping others I am doing something invaluable and so incredibly worthwhile. Which means that I am, at least in some small way, a good person. But I don’t feel like a good person. I feel like worthless scum because that’s how I’ve always been treated by my peers. So it’s a vicious cycle.
I don’t know who I am. I am a worthless, will-powerless, fucked up, sick person. I am also an immeasurably loyal and supportive friend; I am someone who never leaves someone who needs me unless they make me leave (the ONLY exception in my whole memory being Dan).
The worst part is that I don’t WANT to get better. Which makes me such a fucking hypocrite. I want to get worse. I want to break. I do. It’s all I want. I want to go so far down the rabbit hole that there is no way back so that I never have to deal with any of this anymore. It’s too much. But I am attempting to not get worse FOR OTHER PEOPLE. For people who need to get better. For people who need proof that someone older, someone who has been there, got through it and is still fighting through it. I need to pave the way. So I wake up every day, and go to work every day, and pretend to be ok every day for the people who need to see me do it. Every single day is a battle between what I really want and what I feel I need to do. And it is exhausting. And I just want it to be over. But I can’t stop until I make sure everyone else who needs me doesn’t need me anymore. I can’t stop until they get better.
But I don’t think they want to get better, either. So why am I even bothering? Why can’t I just let myself break?
Sorry. I’m rambling now. I’m a bit high, but coming down. I’m also incredibly mad at myself for the ridiculous binge I just had and my inability to starve like I used to. And I just want to sleep and never wake up. I’m also a 22 year old typing like an angsty 15 year old, so ignore everything. I just suck.
