*Trigger Warning: self-harm The power of procrastination is so awesome that even though I have been without Internet access for several hours and I have things that I think I want to do, I have spent that time lying on top of my bed thinking about how I would do all the things I want to do if I were to do them. Very productive. I think that the ideas I have are worth so much more in my head, I can fetishize every negative feeling and pretend that it makes me special or interesting in some way. But when the thoughts become words that I type out and read back, I realise how banal everything about me is. That's probably the real reason writing blog posts and writing in my journal gets a little harder every time. Here is a quick list of the things I should be doing right now: On Tuesday I had a very intense dream that was terrifying enough to make me feel slightly separate from my body all week. Even now, everything feels a little unreal and abnormal; I haven't stopped
There is a hole in me that cannot possibly be filled. There is a darkness in me that I cannot possibly let go of. I am lost and nobody is looking for me.
"She had a fracture of anger starting under her yellow hairline, crossing her forehead and running right down the middle of her face, dividing her chin, her neck, her chest, all the way down to her abdomen where it snarled itself into a black knot. This knot only just held the two halves of her together."
--Hotel World(Ali Smith)
After watching Sucker Punch for the 300th time, I thought about creating my own fantasy world to escape my reality, who I am. But my reality is grim and what I am is unstable. All the fantasies I could conjure always end with me beaten, cold and completely alone. Sitting on the bed in my cell , hugging my knees under a big screen on my cell wall that projects an endless stream of images showing the men I love, loving someone better. It's a live feed.
Sometimes I pull away from my imaginary friends.Because of the jealousy. I was thinking about maybe telling them why, but what would I say? That I hate them because they're not as sick as I am?
When I first knew him, when I first knew what he was really like, I used to think he was who I'd be if I'd had a normal childhood. It was sort of comforting at first. But now I think about how great his family is and how great his friends are and how happy and in love he is, and all I feel is jealousy and resentment. Sometimes I am so angry at him for getting better and falling in love when I'm still so sick and alone. He is my best friend and I want to be happy for him, but sometimes I hate him. And I don't have room for any more hatred and resentment in my life. I spend all day buried under a mountain of bitterness and pain and regret and I just can't handle him sometimes.
I know that I would do better if I looked at the things I have, remembered all the people in my life who already love me. I have everything I could possibly ever need. And I might have the strength to fight for my life. But my anger keeps me together , it keeps me surviving. It always has. I'm afraid of what will happen to me if I let it go. A person who needs anger to survive and is jealous of their friends' happiness is not someone who deserves to be saved. Even if there was someone willing to try to save me(and I am sure there is), I do not deserve to be saved. A person who cannot live without Eros, cannot live.
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