01/08/2012

I’ve been trying to write this entry for like an hour. I finally just copied my random babble into word so I can go through it and edit it. It’s too long. No one cares. I need to write more often so this doesn’t happen. Ugh. So you get this. Ignore the last bit. I just had to get it out.

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-Working ten hour days. It’s not as bad as I thought. Still rough in the mornings though. 5 am is very early.

– Moved to the actual production floor. Lots of noise. And people. Paranoid-Me is having a spaz attack over it. People constantly walking behind me. I’m always tense. Waiting. I hate it. I’m trying to limit my physical response to it. I’ve managed to stop jumping a little each time. But I tense up completely. It’s worse when the people are kind of crowded at the one desk behind me for minutes. Freaks me out. And I get mad at myself. There’s no reason for me to act this way. I’m not afraid of them. I just hate people being behind me.

-Kinda broke. I’m going to have to drive an hour just to get gas. I got a Walmart gift card from my father, and I need gas more than I need anything else (besides cigarettes). So I’ll put just enough gas in the car to get me to the Super Walmart for gas. Then I’ll probably have to suck up my dislike of buying overpriced cigarettes. Since I need those too.

-Lonely. Really fucking lonely. I’ve been invited out drinking with people from work. But I don’t want to leave my mother home alone. And I don’t like drinking with people I don’t know. I don’t like drinking in general. I don’t like being not 100% in control around people I don’t trust. And I don’t trust them. I don’t really trust anyone. But I’m so damn lonely.

I want someone. Anyone at this point. Someone to talk to. Someone to share my day with, my nightmares with, my dreams with. But I’m too afraid to get close to anyone. I always end up hurt. Never works. Who could stand me? I can’t stand me.

It’s never about me anymore. I don’t talk to the BFF anymore, I don’t talk to Demon. I can’t talk to my mother, and surely not my father. I have no one. I’m like a fucking island. I don’t want to be an island.

Yes, I love my space, my private time, my alone time. But for fucks sake doesn’t anyone realize I’m standing there screaming for someone to just care about me. Not because it’s an obligation, but because they actually do.

I support my mother, I hold her up, I always have. I’ve always been the family rock. Always in the middle trying to calm the troubled waters. I’m always the one listening, giving out advice, never being the one who talks. Sure, I wouldn’t voluntarily talk about shit anyway. But why not ask me? Tell me to cut the bull shit, and just fucking talk.

I want someone to text me in the middle of the day to say they were thinking of me.

I want someone to cuddle with at night when I’m too afraid to sleep because of the nightmares. Or hell to even just talk to on those long cold dark nights. Who understands. Who knows what it’s like to be so afraid. Who knows my bad ass don’t give a shit attitude is all bull shit. That I’m nothing more than a scared little girl. That I’m drowning. I’m standing in a crowded room yelling for help, but no one hears me.

I’m afraid of myself. Afraid of what I’m capable of. Afraid of succeeding, afraid of not. Afraid I’m going to be my father, or my mother. Afraid of what I know is inside me.

Ironic that what I want is someone to be completely vulnerable with, and yet I’m not capable of it. Not really. I could, if I trusted that person, but I don’t really know how to. Everyone I’ve trusted has hurt me. More than they could ever know. It lingers, like a phantom pain in my chest.