Brewing.

There is an insane amount of anger and frustration brewing inside me. I feel entirely weak and powerless in my life, and as someone who has had the power taken away from them more than once over the course of their life, it does not have a good reaction in me. It makes me bitter, it makes me reach for situations which I CAN control, and it makes me an absolutely horrible person to be around.

I had someone (in my family) who I could go to. Someone who had my back. The only one who I felt came close to understood me, and whom I felt supported me. Saw the way things were here. I spoke to her xmas night, and that illusion was shattered. I knew it was only a matter of time until her ear was turned and I'd lose her, but I had hoped it wouldn't happen until I was closer to leaving. Oh, well. I don't need anyone to believe me, I suppose. It doesn't matter that everyone here thinks I'm a liar and a thief and an all around horrible person. None of it matters in the grand scheme of things, I guess. I know I'm not those things. That's what matters, right?

She spoke to me of getting out of this house, of moving away and letting the relationships here heal. She didn't give me a chance to interject, or maybe I just knew it was pointless to do so, but that is something that I doubt will ever happen. There is too much damage done here. There are no words or actions that will convince me that the woman has anything other than animosity and hatred for me at this point. I regret this, I wish it could be different, but my heart can only take so many cuts before the scar tissue heals over and makes it closed off. She loved me in the past, I know this, but she hasn't for a while now. No one can treat someone they honestly and truly love the way that woman treats me.

thoughts...

There's a gun across the hallway. Two, really, but the pistol would be much easier to use. It'd be so fucking easy to grab it, check the chamber, put it to my head - to the temple, too much leeway if you go under the chin or in the mouth - and pull the trigger. It's a 40 caliber, the bullets are damn near the size of my thumb. There's no coming back from that. Big, dime size hole on one side, gaping maw of bone fragment, blood, gray matter and tissue on the other. Or, rather, splattered on the wall on the other side. And for me? Oblivion. Respite from the constant depression, the constant being made to feel less than I am. (or am I, really? I don't know anymore)No more struggling for approval that will never come, no more wishing to feel a part of the family and being disappointed a bit more each time it's proven to me that I'm not. No more fighting. No more confrontation and animosity. Just oblivion.

internalize

internalize
compartmentalize
try silence on for size
ignore their words
and what they do
take it all inside of you
tuck it away
none of it matters, anyway
don't say a word
not one complaint
no one wants to hear your taint
just pull it all within
breathe it out again
you'll be stronger, in the end
don't dare cry
or show your pain
lock it away inside your brain

I'm breaking apart on the inside. My face isn't my own, it's being changed from the fire thats consuming me. I look bone weary. I AM bone weary. The bad outweighs the good right now, and I have no method of expelling the toxicity of the bad as it builds up inside me. My self confidence diminishes more and more every day. My will to keep on diminishes more and more every day. It feels like every time I reach out, I'm beaten back. Every time I start to climb free, someone steps on my fingers. I'm precious close to giving up, and all I want is someone to save me.

Musings.

I think that people who put expectations on sex are kind of ridiculous. sex is like art. everyone performs differently, and the end product is their own. some people will look at it, enjoy it topically and move on. others will stop and really FEEL it. Still others will hate it, and some will have their minds absolutely blown.

Just something I said in conversation today and thought I'd share.

I said I wasn't going to do this here...

...but where else do I have to go, really? Not my friends, I can't seem to bring myself to let go and actually lay it out to any of them. Not to mention that none of them would really understand, even if I did lay it out. I'm un-medicated, I'm on a bi-polar down-slide, I have seasonal depression, excessive anxiety and there are about five other smaller stressors at work all at once. This isn't a matter of talking to a friend, having them say "well, look at the bright side", say something to cheer me up and it's all better. I need to talk to someone who will listen without judging and understand that sometimes you need to allow your depression to run its course. And since that's not gonna happen, here goes.

I am excessively unhappy here. I have been for quite a while, but it just gets worse as time goes on. Most days my grandmother is cold and aloof, some days she's mean and insulting and others she's outright vicious to me. My brother is demanding, thankless, treats me as if I'm a maid/servant and enjoys berating me when things don't go his way. My grandfather basically ignores me, unless it's to snort incredulously at something I say and roll his eyes. My father and sisters are distant people who I relate to as I relate to casual acquaintances. My mother has her own life with no time (or patience) for my shit, and the same goes for most of that side of the family, too. My aunt B has her own troubles and is quite sick of hearing me whine, I'm sure. My best friend has her family and her own problems, and I would not seek to burden her with my shit, even if I thought she would understand what I'm going through. Basically, if you're not living it, you just won't get it.

In October I had actually decided that I couldn't take anymore, and had planned on ending things. I had plans to go see AFP with Nikki, and my intent was to do it after that. Seeing the concert was the one thing I really had to look forward to, and once I'd had that experience, I was ok with it being done. A couple things happened in the meantime, though. I met someone who started the stirrings of feelings inside my long dormant chest, and then I went on vacation. I spent time away from here, and I realized that I CAN actually still feel things other than sadness and pain. I was actually happy, and enjoying myself when I was away. I was with people who didn't treat me like shit, who actually spoke to me, had conversations. Included me. Made me feel at home. Then I came back home. More of the same. Then the holidays. So now...I'm back at square one. I'm perfectly ok with the idea of not being here. Sure, the future might hold change, but who's to say if that's a definite thing or just a possibility? I can't spend an indefinite amount of time feeling this way again. My shoulders are tired from hefting the original load, I don't think that they can handle more shit being shoveled on them every day until gods know when. It's kind of harder now, too, having tasted happiness and then coming back to this.

And so, I sit back at square one. I have a lot of things to decide, a lot of thoughts and emotions to process. And frankly, I'm tired. A large part of me is telling me to withdraw from people entirely and avoid bothering them with my shit. So, if you don't hear from me...the few of you who will read this...you know why. I'm doing it to save you from dealing with my shit.

meep.

Everything is so large and overwhelming and I feel so very tiny. All these letters addressed to me full of legal jargon, and health plans that seem to cover absolutely nothing...I'm a smart person, but it's all so fucking confusing. Perhaps if I hadn't ruined most of my brain with chemicals when I was younger this would be easier now. Perhaps if I didn't have a slew of disorders, I'd be able to look at it from an angle that doesn't leave me hyperventilating. Perhaps I should just admit defeat and ask for help in understanding what's going on with the situation.

another snippet.

To sing with another person is a very personal thing. Almost sexual, really, in it's intimacy. You're allowing your voice to join with another, to wrap around the other person's. To work in tandem with theirs, combining together to create something far more beautiful than one single voice. It can be physically shocking, to be singing and reach that moment of harmony where your voice and the other person's combine in that perfect note, that perfect moment.

snippet

I close my eyes, tilt my head back and feel the impurities of the day slide off my skin like I've just emerged from water. Indeed, as if I've just been baptized. That is what the music does for me, really. It baptizes me, lays to waste all the sins of the past and gives me a clean slate. It reaches into the very deepest recess of my soul and gently washes it clean.

I just don't get it.

She wants me. Me, the one who has a grossly overweight body. Me, with so many issues I can't be a productive member of society. Me the one everyone overlooks and ignores, or ridicules. Me, the broken, scarred one that has nothing of value to offer...she wants me. I don't pretend to understand. I don't get it at all, especially when she's beautiful and has a nice body, and has her shit together. She could have someone so much better...but she wants me.

On creative endeavours.

I am a creative person. I have abilities in many different artistic venues. Do I use these abilities to my advantage? No. Instead I let my insecurities and anxieties and godawful self conscious ways get in the way of expressing myself. If I could just lose these roadblocks and let my art leak out unfettered, I KNOW I could be good at whichever way I chose to do so. So how does one go about doing this, letting go of one's inhibitions and letting their art pour out where it had once been dammed?