i wanna hang on to something that won't break away or fall apart; like the pieces of my heart.
i'm so sick of being treated like shit. like i am garbage, like i am worthless. like i have absolutely nothing to offer. i am treated like a toy or a game, and when something new or "more interesting" comes along, i am dropped. not only am i dropped like i'm maybe boring or like i mean nothing, but i'm dropped like i never even existed. not only am i ignored, i am forgotten. that's worse. i know exactly how you all look at me. like i'm lost, like i have no idea what i am doing, like i'm a loser. do you really think i am that fucking stupid? yes, i fluctuate between the two extremes of pretending everything is fine and being okay with everyone, and drawing away and acting like a fucking dick. and i have every right to. don't ever tell me that i need to come to terms with my life and with reality, because i am so far past that point, that it's almost a sick joke at this point. i hear and take so much crap from everyone. i can't tell you the number of people who have sat me down to tell me that "what happened has happened, and i understand it's been tough, but you need to move on"; from my best friend to my former guidance counselor to a total stranger. screw all of you. not only is that not fair, but it's wrong. you don't actually know what it's been like. i don't care what you think you saw or heard or know, what you think you all may have "experienced" and/or "gone through with me", but you're all wrong. you don't know. and you know why you don't know? because i don't LET you know. yes, i can act inhuman and robotic and like i am programmed to just go through the motions of the day. yes, i can speak of terrifying and horrific events that have happened to me without managing to shed a tear. yes, i can fake it to the point where i can really convince you that i have gotten better. but i haven't, and i won't. i'm fucking human. i have emotions, i have feelings, i have thoughts, i have love, i have hate, i have opinions, i have dreams, i have fears. i am dying to be heard but i never will, because even if the opportunity presented itself to me, i wouldn't say a damn thing. because the result of me actually saying anything that goes on in my mind would be catastrophic. does anyone really know the reasons i'm on even half of my medications? well let me give you a little glimpse of reality; actual reality, not the reality you all think you know. my body aches because of everything that happens in my head. the overwhelming and alarming amount of suffering and torture that happens there is unbearably depressing. i am delusional, dangerous, and unrealistic. i am psychotic and paranoid. sometimes i feel like my mind is going to explode and start a war. if anyone knew even half of the pain i suffer everyday, both physically and mentally/emotionally, they wouldn't know what to do with themselves. the amount of self-loathing and hatred and disgust. just like me. i can't tell you how many times a day suicide and death run through my head. every day. how many times i am so tempted to just do it. every. day. in the car, in the shower, in the kitchen. doesn't matter where or how. obviously, i have never acted on one of these, or else i wouldn't be here ranting to no one but myself in the early hours of a monday morning. because i haven't (yet) succumbed to these urges. and that is why. i take medications to stop these urges. to drug myself to the point of indifference. because being indifferent doesn't harm anyone. being indifferent doesn't hurt.
this was about a billion topics rolled into one. you and your stable minds can't handle me.
and oh, sometimes, i would just like to kill every single one of you.