Stuck
I forgot to eat yesterday; I was so warped and twisted up in emotion that I couldn’t think or see straight.
I had too much coffee and refused to see anyone and wallowed in my own self-pity for the entire day.
And after I wrote that insomnia entry, I curled up in a ball and cried. The pain didn’t even lighten for a moment.
And I think that’s the hard part.
I’ve written a dozen entries over the past few days, all different poems, all centered around the fact that I feel completely worthless, undeserving. Somewhere in me I know it’s not true, but the dark feelings so easily swallow me up. Because this is so hard, hard enough that I feel like I should just end my miserable existence on this beautiful planet; but I can’t for so many reasons, though the thought crosses my mind thirty times a day.
Today has been bright and sunny instead of cold and rainy, and I can’t find any solace in it, I just keep glaring at it.
"Fuck off, Sun," I want to say. I want to tell everyone to fuck off.
I feel like an animal. Trapped in a cage. I pace all the rooms in my house; I look up lyrics for hours on end; I kick the cabinets and get angrier because it’s not a wall meeting my fist; I want to rip my soul out of my body and bludgeon my own heart to death. I write and I write and there’s just no release. I talk about my pain, my anger, my fear and the heaviness doesn’t lift. I distract myself with meaningless things, but it just reminds me of myself. And I… I guess I just don’t know what to do anymore to make this horrible feeling go away.
Colin thinks I should join a 12-step program but it won’t solve shit.
Because I don’t think there’s a 12-step program for the sickness I’ve got.
It’s a sickness in my brain and in my heart.
Time and God are the only two things I’ve come up with;
well my patience is thin with both,
but I keep my head down, keep pressing on, because what else can I do?
I try to stay away from substances and addictions, I know it’s best…
but the only thing that keeps me away is, "I’ll suffer because it’s what I deserve; I deserve no escape, no reprieve at all".
And how fucked up is that?
Wishful thinking hasn’t ever brought me shit.
So there’s my gratefulness that I work 7 days in a row starting tomorrow.
I can’t be trapped with my thoughts anymore. I can’t be trapped in this tiny house which magnifies the fact my life’s a mess.
I’m a mess; if there was ever an argument for perfection, I’d be the furthest from it.
I need to snap out of this.
I slapped myself in the face today and it didn’t help.
Someone grab me a lightning bolt;
that’s me asking nicely.
Love,
Amanda