I would just put this in my paper journal, I would, but for whatever reason that’s not enough right now. Right now I need to feel like I’m talking to somebody, even though I’m not. I need to feel as if someone is listening, even though no one is. I need to trick myself into thinking that someone cares and that I am being courageous, when I know I’m not.
It’s just that right now it feels like the loneliness is consuming me, consuming me, consuming me. It feels like I’ve fallen into a pitch black abyss, a blank void, a place where my silent screams echo off of the nothingness. I know, I know, that the people around me care for me. I know that they love me, but for the love of anything in this world, I feel as if they are standing on the rim of this vast pit of nothingness, trying to help, but far away, far too far away to help.
And I hate being here. I hate feeling my mental and spiritual selves tear themselves into pieces. I hate the clawing, the scratching, the blood that seeps from their invisible wounds. Blind, deaf, and mute they battle each other, myself, themselves raging about, expressing those things which are lost to me, the ones that I cannot feel, refuse to feel.
I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. And all I want is to love myself, love, love, love myself. I want to wrap those tortured demons in my mind in a soft cocoon, I want to cradle them until they cease their wailing, but I can’t. I’m too weak, too much of a failure, they push me away, they seize control, and again I am at their mercy. Even when I seek help, when I seek others, their distrust, their vileness prevents me from voicing what I want–what I need. I hate that they are a part of me. I hate that I can’t control them. I hate that the only way I’m able to talk about this is through metaphors and dissociation. I can’t even lay claim to them. I can’t accept them.
Here I am, I’m admitting things, I’m working on it–I may be conflicted, but I call BULL-FUCKING-SHIT on myself. I will not wallow in self-pity. I will not give up and I will not give in. But I will cut myself some slack. I will allow myself to be weak. I will allow myself to ask for help. I will NOT NOT NOT surrender. I can’t. Too many people would be affected, too many people would be hurt, too many people HAVE been hurt. I will not allow myself to become one of them. Even if, in some sense, I already am.
Today. Today is the beginning. Today I want to make a promise to myself to take this seriously. I took half-hearted steps before. Today I’m making a full-commitment, to myself. I promise that I will love myself, that I will treat myself like I would want one of my friends to be treated. I promise that I will be honest, that I will ask for help, and that I will allow myself to be weak and vulnerable when my strength fails me. I promise that I will not give up. I will NOT give up.