Clavan wanted me to have the grading done today. But I haven’t started it. I wanted to do a bunch of stuff today. But I haven’t. That’s sort of been how my days have gone.
I’m proud of myself for waking up. For loading the dishwasher. The other day I actually vacuumed the room. I’ve kept up with my schoolwork. I’ve survived. I’ve showered. I’ve gone to the gym a few times. I have a chapter and a half left in my test booklet.
Why can’t I feel like I’m doing well? Why can’t I be happy with surviving?
The interview is tomorrow. Technically today since it is already past midnight. I wish it felt like that would fix things. But it doesn’t. It feels hopeless. It feels like the interview won’t work. It feels like all of our eggs are in one basket. A basket I didn’t put them in. A basket I am not holding. And I’m watching, waiting for it to drop, for all of the eggs to break and to be left once again with nothing.
I don’t know if this is a test of my faith and trust in others. But if it is I’m sure I’m failing. I don’t think it will work. I don’t have faith. I’m expecting it to fail because that’s what always happens. Time and time again I am left feeling hurt, betrayed, let down, used, abandoned.
I feel all of these things because I let someone in. I open up. I make myself vulnerable. I am left thinking that these past four months could have been avoided if I had simply been ok with being alone. Something I value and cherish and crave so much. Why? Why is it when I have it I hate it, and when it is unattainable it is the only thing I obsess over?
Why does it feel like I’m trying to heal around a piece of shrapnel that is buried so far into my chest that I can’t even begin to know how to remove it? Some days I am fine. I make it through as if drugged. Numb. Oblivious to the wound.
But other days the smallest twinge causes so much pain. So much anguish that breathing takes effort. And sometimes, when I’m alone, that effort doesn’t feel worth it. I think about how I am caught in this cycle, this never ending loop.
I question myself. I question my actions. I question everything until I can no longer bear to think. And still I am left with nothing. No answers. No conclusion. Just this weariness.
When asked what I want my only answer is, “To not hurt.” I want to not feel like I’m bleeding out. I want there to not be this compulsion, this need, to manifest it. I want to be ok. I want to have a good day. A real day. A day where I don’t feel weak and frail. A day that is purely good, not a good day with small spats scattered throughout.
I want to know why I feel like a failure when I haven’t done anything. When I’m not the one failing. I’m the one holding it together. I’m the one making sure we’re fed, that bills are paid, that laundry is done, and dishes are clean.
I’m not a failure. I’m supporting two people on my own. That should be a success. I can care and provide for others.
So why, why, do I feel like I’m the one who isn’t worthy? Who is falling short?
How is it that I am the one dying on the inside?
Why does it feel that the harder I resist, the further it feels like I fall?
I have applied to the moderator job, but I don’t want it. I don’t want to work more. I want to work less. I want to be alone. I want to hide away. I want someone else to do my job, my homework, my chores. I want to do nothing. I don’t want to be responsible. I want to be a child again, with illusions and dreams. I want to be told that I can be anything I want to be, do anything I want to do, and to be able to believe that. I want to be told it will be ok, and to have unflinching, unshakable faith in that statement.
I want to feel like the fight is worth it.
But right now. Lying on the trampled battlefield, face in the dirt, it feels like too much effort to get up. It feels so hopelessly pointless. Staying down would be so much easier. Closing my eyes, giving up, it would hurt so much less.
Eating is hard. I’m proud of the one meal I’ve had today. I wouldn’t drink anything except that Zane brings me water. We have watched all of Ergo Proxy, an amazing anime that I would gladly watch over again. It has let me escape the here and now. It has given me distance from myself, the situation, the pain. But it’s over now. How will I escape now? What will be my medication now that it is over?
The one thing causing me pain is the one thing helping me to hold myself together. How can someone be the source and the cure? I don’t think it is possible, and yet the only thing I can think of when he hugs me is, “Please don’t leave me alone.”
And I hate myself for that. I hate how it makes me feel weak. I hate how I cry, and he accepts me still. How I make this situation so much harder than it has to be, for no reason at all. I hate how I am the cause of my pain and yet I don’t know how to stop it.
I won’t be able to have the card paid off this year. Not unless I get a second source of income. Zane will not make enough to pay off Trevor and John, and fix the bike, and pay me back. And that is assuming the interview goes well and he gets the job, which in the horribly bleak, empty, nothingness that stretching forever inside of my mind, doesn’t happen.
That was my main goal for this year. That and my tattoos. It was what I wanted for myself. It was supposed to be me getting my life back on track, learning from past mistakes, moving forward. Instead I have more debt. More charges on the card. The progress I had made, that I struggled for, that I worked and spent hours of my life to earn, swiped out in a matter of seconds.
I hate how summer is coming to an end and it feels like I have missed it. How soon it will be winter. My toes will constantly be cold. It will be hard to run outside with the air so thin. The Earth will be asleep, and all of this vibrant energy will be in hibernation. Resting until the world tilts again.
I feel like I am wasting this time. Wasting minutes, hours, days of my life. Wasting away as I focus my energy on breathing, something that should be an unconscious action. But it’s not. Right now it’s not. It’s painful and my mind, my body, is consumed with the icy sharpness that slashes away at me from within.
“What can I do to make it better? What do you want?”
I want to not hurt. The only thing I want in life, so desperately want, is to not hurt anymore.