Over And Over, Again

Every time I think I've run far from it, it's still always there. It's always there creeping underneath the surface, just waiting. Waiting for me to slip, because I most likely will. It feeds on my anxiety and insecurities. No matter what I do, I'm still never healed, though I so much want to be. I wish every night to have all my pain (inexplicable albeit) that I carry (with no understanding why) to be taken away, so I don't have to feel like this anymore. But still, it's always there. Like a dormant creature just waiting because he knows I'll always manage to somehow relapse. He's just waiting to see how great my discipline is because all it takes is a small sliver, and I'm done all over again.

It's the moments I live. Every moment is a test. And every moment is a moment waiting for time to pass so I can reach that rare moment of relief- of not feeling like everything is caving in on me. I don't know what to do. Every moment it seems like I am gauging my emotions and trying to keep them under control, under this facade I've created.

I've become a self-made, full-fledged, liar. I'm a fake; a fraud. Every moment is an ongoing battle with myself. I wish I weren't so complicated. I wish I weren't so fucking psychotic.

I wish I weren't so fucking stupid.

Every moment is a moment of me trying to repress the ringing and redundant words in my head screaming, "What the fuck am I doing with my life?".

I don't know how to feel anymore and I don't know how to be anymore but this thing I've seemed to have evolved into. This thing who overcompensates when around people and this thing who is a utterly complete recluse when not around people.

And even reading my mediocre and such rudimentary writing structure is pissing me off right now because I fear I've become the degenerate I've always loathed. My intellect has dwindled and what little skill or talent I had has disappeared. But that's not the point.

The point is, I hate the person I have become. I hate the person I am. And nothing I say or do will ever be good enough.

I'm losing myself.
I'm losing.

What Else Is New

Empty. Nothing.

Bad

It must've been really bad this time. So bad that it couldn't wait, so bad that it didn't matter what hour it was. So bad to have been woken up by non-hushed tones. So bad that i immediately felt a horrible tone and vibe radiating throughout the house. So bad, that I know what they're feeling must be worse.

6 a.m.

Woke up to my parents arguing. Got woken up by arguing. They went out of town on business this weekend. Actually, it's not even arguing this time. It's just my mother lecturing my father because he obviously did something wrong. And he's just taking it because he knows he screwed up. This is even worse than a heated discussion; it's absolute succumbed and realized defeat. Which makes things the saddest cause of the condescending. Family and business should never come together. I'm glad I got out. But I still need to get completely away from this, I can feel the chains continue to pull me down. This never becomes easy at any age, I feel like a small child again, every time. Maybe I still am. At any age, hearing your parents argue is never comforting and always still unsettling.

My

My whole body hurts.

Can't Help

It. Feeling dead, nothing inside. Nothing but a huge void, a huge void of yearning- to feel something real again.

I'm

I'm ready to say bye, to you, and to everything familiar. Ready to let go.

Please

Make it all stop. This chaos I have ensuing in my entire body, in my chest and my head, so much that I can't breathe right. It just all hurts, why? This is all so ridiculous. And I can't even cry because my body physically just refuses to produce any sense of relief anymore. I just want to bleed, but even that doesn't even give me a thrill anymore. All I feel is numb when I do it. I don't feel anything and yet I feel everything. It's just a sharp pain in my battered heart that just won't go away. It hurts to breathe. I feel like my insides are all scraped raw so much that the blood just keeps flowing, but there's nothing left anymore. I have nothing left, I am nothing left.

Oh, She May Be Weary..

I feel so dead inside.