It’s been getting bad again. I told myself that a new, fresh start would be all that I needed to get better. Essentially, however, all I managed to accomplish was to run away from the past, to run from my problems only to find myself surrounded by new ones. New problems. I still have found that I either don’t recognize myself or I outright despise myself. I know that something in me broke irreparably when she died; I feel selfish for being alive, and for being so ungrateful for it. Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now by The Smiths is playing, if that helps you understand my mindset as of late. If you haven’t heard the song, I recommend it. It’s fitting. I still think about the people who don’t care if I live or die. The “friends” that left me stranded when I lost him. I’ll tell you about this “him” person eventually, but for now. We’ll just talk about how messed up I am.
Last night, I wrote two poems. Two. Within ten minutes. The words bled out of me, there was no stopping it. I wrote about how stressful life is and then I wrote about how I feel the world is suffocating me. Because I work hard, every other day to make ends meet. And I feel as if it is getting me nowhere. My last goal was to move out of that small town and get a decent job. Now that I’ve accomplished that, I am trapped again. In a different sort of cage, yet the bars look so similar to those of the last one. And despite all the stress, my mind still returns to the fact that she is gone and will never be able to come back.
I’ve even started my nasty habit of pushing people away. Of leaving messages on delivered, of ignoring everything around me. Spacing out, disassociating, fading away. Sinking deeper into this bed with each passing moment. I am worrying those around me, but I don’t want them to worry anymore. But how can I achieve that if I don’t know how to fix myself? If I’m constantly sad, stressed, depressed…how can I convince them that I’m okay again? I find I don’t even have the energy to pretend, so I simply do not respond.
Maybe it’ll be better eventually, like the hallmark-card-bible-thumpers have told me.
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