Do you think some people just run out of caring?
Like, if you're with someone long enough, and it's a long, exhausting trek, eventually someone burns out and just can't care anymore.. even though they want to so bad.
Sometimes I feel like with all the shit I've put him through, he's already reached that point.
And sometimes, it feels like I don't even care..
I don't feel like me anymore.. Well, that's not exactly true. I don't know what 'me' is supposed to feel like anymore. I've been put through so many ups and downs, labels, problems..etcetcetc.. I just don't remember what it's like to have an identity. What is an identity? Is it what you do? What you say? What you think? They say it's who you are, but what do you do if you don't know who or what that is, either? Who am I?
The sad part is, I'm not even high right now. My sober mind feels as jumbled as a stoner's, and I don't know why. Is it because of the depression that has plagued my life for years? The ED that resurfaces long enough to ruin my life over and over again? Or could an almost too-serious-too-soon relationship be the cause? I would hesitate to blame it on the third idea, because the relationship is the last thing I would ever give up. But it scares me that what gives me the most happiness and assurance in this world, also makes me so confused and unaware of myself. Let's just say I'm scared.
What else? I don't even know if I'm better or not. I'm too.. neutral. I'm neither happy nor sad. Just..gray. I don't put myself down so harshly, but I never praise myself. I'm not happy with how my life is now, but I'm not despising it. It's confusing. The confusion and gray-feeling is almost enough to want to... well, let's just say I'm frustrated.
Why though? At least I'm not trying to tear my hair out and hysterically crying on my floor, a sharp object in my hand. That was last year. I'm better than that now, right? But I can't say that this new feeling is much better. I'm still not happy, and I have this butterfly feeling in my gut that makes me want to burst myself open just so I can feeling something. Anything. I want to cut, but it's been so long. I want to ingest pills, but do I really want to die? I don't think I do, I just want to hurt myself. I want the butterflies in my stomach to die. I think it's anxiety. Well then, anxiety, I want you to die. I want to scream from the top of a roof-top. I don't know why. Maybe I need some extreme pleasure-seeking because the pleasure centers in my brain are fucked up because of the depression. I don't know how I'm feeling now, though, so let's just say I'm anxious.
I'm confused.
Fuck.
No comments:
Post a Comment