Nothing Makes Sense Anymore

I feel I must retreat to my mind. The last few weeks, I’ve been forcing myself to talk and go out when I don’t want to. I don’t understand why people want me around or to actually hear my voice. The more I try, the more confused I become.

I often wish I could run away. Start over. I don’t think I could really do it though. Not with the way I am now. Maybe, I just want to be how I feel. I’m lost, come find me.

I have this increasing feeling that I must do everything on my own. I shouldn’t let people see me for who I really am, or knowingly help me. Life is what you make it be and mine is nothing I can see.

I feel there is no hope left for this to really be fixed.

Nothing makes sense anymore and I care less and less that it doesn’t.

Like Ice To A Burn

If there is one thing that has continually held me back, its been my fear of failure–of rejection; of being looked down upon. It has led me to over think basic social situations, which probably just makes me fail more often. Things weren’t always like this.

I remember a time when I felt wanted by my friends, like by my peers, and even loved (as in deeply cared about) by some. I did fine in most (if not all) situations. I don’t know what I did to make them feel that way about me, or what I’m doing differently now. I don’t understand. Is there something about me? Something that I’m not taking in account or something I don’t know about? It doesn’t even make sense.

I understand that its entirely possible that I’m just creating something out of nothing; fabricating what I perceive as other people’s intentions. Maybe, like ice to a burn, I need to chill. Maybe.

I often find myself afraid to try for fear of hurting someone, or worse myself. I avoid conflict. I cower in fear at signs of someone being mad at me. Do I care too much about what they think? I can’t think of anything (or anyone) else I care about as much as I do that. Sad? Pathetic? Definitely.

The logical and the emotional parts of me are blinding each other. What a mess.

Let Sleeping Dogs Die

I still wonder why I wasn’t worth it for him. He called me one of his best friends and I thought the same of him. I extended my hand when he needed it. It was never the hand he wanted, but time and time again I put it out there for him. I care about him; I loved him (as I do all my friends).

I know some people are just assholes and don’t care who they have to step on so long as they don’t get hurt. I am not one of those people. I know I’m better than him, if only because I don’t use my friends as stepping stools. I’m past him.

I don’t wonder why I wasn’t worth because I’m still hurting. I wonder because I don’t know how much I’m worth to new friends (and old for that matter). I know its classic over-thinking for me. But if I wasn’t worth it once, I won’t be again. To feel like one of my closest friends is slowly stabbing me in the back is depression inducing. It truly is haunting. I’d rather die than have to face that again.

I know that not everyone is like that and that its either I have no friends or be in the same situation again one day. I need to let sleeping dogs die. I need to get over it and stop causing this to be harder than it is.

A Place Long Forgotten

Where I stand, is a place long forgotten.

My mind is clear, yet full.

The pressure is mounting up.

Should I back out or step up?

Her Disguise

I shouldn’t care, but I do. The thought of her with him hurts, but its something I can’t stop thinking about–that I can’t let go of. I have little doubt now that she did have feelings for him before we broke up. I don’t think everything would have happen the way it did if she didn’t. Best friends are one thing, but she wanted more than to be just best friends with him. Everyone saw it, and everyone knew that she would like him like she does now.

I’m fine until that comes to mind. The thought that she is willing to and probably has fucked him, the thought that she is lying to me (or to herself). That thought that she so willingly betrayed me. She doesn’t think about what she did to me. I don’t know how someone can do what she has done–what she is doing–and still say that she loves me; that she cares about me. Its bullshit.

I want to move on, but I don’t think I can really move on if I don’t know what kind of a person I’m moving on from. She wants to keep me thinking that she loved me and she regrets not trying and putting him first, but she wasn’t (and isn’t) willing to do a damn thing to fix her mistake.

I can’t really say weather or not she cheated–emotionally or more. I have little doubt that she didn’t. I think she knew what she was doing, but didn’t care enough to stop. She gets mad when I tell her that I think she did. She hasn’t done anything to make me think otherwise–not when we were together and definitely not now. I think she doesn’t want to be able to say that she cheated (if only emotionally), but even if she doesn’t admit it to me it doesn’t make it less true.

I think she knows what happen, and is only trying to ignore it to preserve the costume she is trying to wear. Too bad it doesn’t fit her anymore and everyone see right through it. I hate her for what she did and what she is doing. I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to forgive her.

I’ll let her wear her disguise. It won’t stay on for too much longer anyway.

I need to stop thinking about her.

Its Stupid

I would kill myself right now if I thought my mom would be able to take it.

Its stupid (I really do know this), but I no longer care. I don’t want to deal with any of it anymore. I’m tired of trying, there is no use anymore.

The Problem Is Me

I’m not unhappy that I’m not with her. I’m unhappy because I’m lonely; because I feel like everyone sees me as someone beneath them. Few really seem to want to give me the time of day to show them me.

I feel like they all know something I don’t. Are there rumors about me? Do I smell? Am I not a pleasant site? Am I really annoying? I’m sure everyone has their reasons, but it doesn’t make anything better.

One way or another the problem is me. I don’t understand why they wouldn’t or would mind so much. Its hurts more because I can’t rationalize why anyone would, hence the ideas above. I can only come up with things that I have no way of knowing.

The problem is me. I’ve pushed people away my whole life, and now that I lost the one person who I let get close I’m more depressed than ever when I think about it. I’m alone and that isn’t going to change for a long time, if at all.

I wouldn’t say that I’m depressed because when I’m around people I feel fine. Its when I’m alone, and my mind has the time to wonder that I get like this. Especially when I think about the small things that happen throughout the day that support that idea. Even though I know I’m reading too much into things, I can’t seem to see things in a different way.

Whats so off putting about me?