I’m Cold Inside With Fear, And I Can’t Feel My Soul

"I Feel Weak. I’m slowly losing touch with what is left in me…"
 
Before I get into this, I need to make something clear. There are one or two things that are wrong that can be fixed, that are not things that I can fix. I’ve tried, and only dug myself into a bigger hole. I’m practically sitting in the middle of Beijing, it’s so deep. That said, those two things are very simple, and I hadn’t really hit the nail on the head until I had a chat with a friend for a few hours tonight. The talk was much appreciated, and helped very much. But it wasn’t the right person. On all of the other counts, I’m going to get over it. They’re insecurities, and I have them. They’re inconvenient, and worthless, and they will go away. What I need, for that, is some substantial reassurance (and I’ve had it, so thanks), and to know that I am the only option now. Those doors… they’re SHUT… FOREVER. SO STOP. WORRYING. I’m going to be okay. That has never changed.
 
I am feeling faint of heart. I am feeling disquieted. I feel that about 98% of the time, I am an alien who is both unwelcome and doesn’t belong. I also feel solaced. It never addresses the root of it all, the cause, the trigger. It is the elephant we paint white to match the walls and hope we won’t notice. But it is always there. I feel like no one will ever understand what I am, who I am, or what I am feeling. I rationalize, pragmatically, what I’m experiencing, and I can make some very healthy conclusions about it all. I’m very good with understanding my emotions, even if it takes time, and trying my very best to accept what of them I can.
 
Some of it is because of baggage from my last relationship. Some of it is because of baggage from his past relationships. Some of it is baggage from a million small things that have snowballed over time. Some of it is work. It’s a lot. But there are three very dominant problems. But one of them, is just me. Nobody else has anything to answer for.
 
I am a strong communicator. I am an intrinsically emotional person, and so strongly so that seldomly can I ever even attempt to separate my mind and my heart. They make decisions together, and not separately to find a middle ground. My emotions affect me so much, that I have a strong physical reaction to them. My wonderful hospitalization in 2007 was a perfect example of how two days of outright misery almost took my life. I mentioned cutting in my last entry, because it was why I started in the first place. I feel so much like rebelling and withdrawing, though whenever I try, someone tries very hard to pry things out of me. I get defensive then and want everyone to just fuck off. I tried crying out once, when it was a big deal, as a kid. I was heard, temporarily, though nobody believed what I had to say. Over the span of the next 12 years, with the additional rapes I got to experience, I noticed more and more that the more I cried out for someone to save me, or someone to listen, the less people even acknowledged me. I became very withdrawn, and the only way left I could think of then, to be heard, or acknowledged, was to act out.
 
I cut myself. I liked to see my pain become something physically tangible. I secretly hoped someone would see it, but nobody ever did. I slit my wrists and nobody knew. It was hugely damaging to my self-worth to realize that I could attempt to commit suicide and nobody would notice. Funny, it made me feel better to cut, scratch and burn myself… but to know that other people I love do or have done it makes me feel ill. Drawing blood always made me feel relieved. Like… okay… blood. So I am really here. I am  really alive. Even if nobody sees me. So I had a period in my life where I stole things. My "friends" were doing it, and I wanted their acceptance. I also wanted to know that if I wanted something, anything, I could have it. It was a short-lived thing, and I have been so scared in life after that (I was twelve) of ever being associated with that ever again, that I’ve pretty much been a saint.
 
That said, I’ve been feeling, lately, like refusing to open up at all, to anyone. Opening up has started to feel pretty fruitless.
 
There is no answer. I believed something once, that was unreasonable, or unrealistic. That belief is dead. I’m sad that it’s gone, and I’m trying to cope with the world as it is without it. Without that belief, it changes me. It changes the meaning of a lot of things. I’m struggling a little, because I am alone in some of my most fundamental values. I’m having some trouble accepting some things as they are (and they vary in context and subject, so no inferrence necessary). I’m having issues with believing in myself, feeling some self-worth. That feels a little shot right now. Sometimes, even the simplest and most obvious things need to be said out loud. And besides, I refuse to believe that things really are that simple. I’ve found some people to be hugely emotional where they insist they are not. I hate it when people tell me that I am too naive and too idealistic, and then when I make even the slightest of corrections, those same people tell me that I’m too pessimistic.
 
PUTAIN DE BORDEL DE MERDE! UN SALAUD! UN CONNARD! UN TROU DE CUL! ABRUTI UN ECOULÉ! UN SALOPE! UN PUTE! CRISSE DE CALISSE DE TABARNAK DE CAVE! CALISSE!
 
So, my plan, from here on out, is to be the wall. Welcome to it. I’m not explaining, elaborating, revealing or even acknowledging anything, and I’m certainly not about to apologize for it. Welcome to the denial stage (bottle it, zip it, lock it, seal it, weld it shut, drop it into a chasm at the bottom of the sea), this is an equal opportunity silence, people. If you can do it, so can I. I plan to build a house here.
 
K.M.
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~ by Kд§$ị (ИovΔ) on 04/07/2009.

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