Warning: There is profanity involved in this entry.
Some days I realize how very alone I am…in my beliefs, my wants and needs, my likes and dislikes, my tendency for emotional reactions masked by cool calculation…for my wretchedness in being alone, not being enough, not being nearly enough…
I find myself ‘failing’ repeatedly…and re-hashing all of these failures in acute detail. Things I’d forgotten for many years have come back to haunt me and I am having a hellishly hard time trying to deal with it. Some day I will get over most of it. Until then, I won’t give up…that’s the only way to get through the land mines in my mind.
Being told what to do annoys me in the extreme. Being ordered around like a dog pisses me off. And I absolutely hate not having a life of any sort. Being bored. Being stuck. It’s a fucking pain in the fucking butt.
My existence, you see, is inconsequential to the world. I have a place with a few people, but it’s a place that can easily be erased and forgotten. I’m important only so long as I become a problem in other people’s lives. As long as I am safely out of the way, tucked into the meager existence that is mine, me being here or not makes no difference. I don’t matter to me. Me being alive doesn’t matter to me. I really wish I had never been born. My parents would be happier and I wouldn’t have brought pain to many many people. I wouldn’t exist, and that would be better in so many ways.
I’ve tried long and hard to be the best at something, anything. But it seems as though mediocrity is all that is offered me. I am blessed with lack of brilliance. I have no spark. My only light is false. In reality I am just expendable. No matter how hard I try, or what I do, I will never be amazing at anything except causing emotional disasters. I’m amazed that anyone is capable of caring for me. My parents and sister do, in a fashion. My boyfriend does too, in his own way. Some coworkers and friends have shown care on and off. But I think that is more out of pity than anything else. It hurts me to know how replaceable I am. My existence and efforts matter not at all. But for some stupid reason, I can’t give up. Maybe because giving up would equate death, or worse.
There is no one more worthy of total disregard and indifference than me – my existence is truly insignificant. I wish I had never existed. And now that I do, I wish for a quick and painless end. I would rather not cause more trouble than I already have and do.