2am; where do I begin? Crying off my face again.
The silent sound of loneliness wants to follow me to bed.
I’m a ghost of a girl that I want to be most.
I’m the shell of a girl that I used to know well.
I am always going to be the villain in this story. People never tire of making me the villain. Those around me say, write and do things as if I am too daft to piece together what is going on. I think they’re all full of shit. It has been all I can do for the last few days not to say that things are inexorably similar to a grievous day that changed my life. I am sick so often that now nobody thinks twice about the effect it has on me if I end up in the Hospital, or that maybe the stress I am under is why. The worse things are for me, the less anyone seems to care. I feel like a ghost. And I feel like I should have wisely known that “better life” is a lie, and an illusion. I am dying very slowly. And by the time anyone notices I was even alive I will be gone.
I am so untrusting of everyone and everything now. And yet, if for some reason I lost my ability to go on and do this for even one more day, I’m sure it would shock everyone. Nobody believes a word I say until it is too late. I am becoming a bitter, angry, resentful person for this fact. I don’t matter. Why should those who don’t think I matter, matter to me?
I have asked for help with what I am going through from family and friends and doctors and they all just stare at me wide-eyed and hesitant, and the minute eye contact is broken it’s like my plea never left my lips at all.
Now I am stuck in something I can’t change and can’t fix and can’t walk away from. I am so tired of being a problem that I’d like to just remove the problem all together. Nobody will ever care enough to help me, or listen to me. Every open door and available ear comes with a price and I am not just a walking body- a physical commodity. I should not have to pay a price with my skin to get what should come automatically, but does not come at all, payment or none.
I just want to pack and disappear. It’s a warning sign and it’s tugging at every muscle and bone in my body with a relentless gravitational pull that is taking Herculean strength to ignore. I’ve been the fighter. I’ve been the bodyguard. I’ve been the lover and the weekend warrior and the hero. And I’m tired. I’m tired of the thankless battling and the being invisible and the not having even a measure of help. I’m tired. And I told people I was getting tired, burning out, unable to continue at this pace this way without changing some things.
Yet here we are.
But I’m done. There is a consequence to a time where head clearing is possible. Sometimes distance has consequences. Sometimes it has the exact opposite effect we intend it to. Sometimes those you’ve fought for, who should fight for you just don’t, and they’ve made no secret that you’re not worth fighting for, and you never were. I go looking for answers, encouragement, reach out for someone. All I come up with are fistfuls of years of established evidence that I am not her. I am not her and I was not her and I will not be her and that makes me woefully inadequate. I will always be woefully inadequate. Sometimes it is one fine detail that has changed from something we planned rather vaguely that is the destroyer of trust. Everyone has to take the inch of blossoming trust and shove it through a mile long wood chipper.
I feel cheated. I feel lied to. I feel abandoned. I feel angry. And I don’t even want to fix it anymore.
I just want to remove the problem.