What do you do when you feel so alone? Sure, there are plenty of people around me, but I don’t want to talk to them, I can’t. I don’t know what’s come over me, it’s been here for a couple of weeks now, just progressively getting worse. I’m sinking back into that hole, but I’m tired of being there, though I guess I always kind of am.
Am I real?
Sometimes I feel like I’ve died and I’m a ghost, observing the other people, unable to speak or be heard. How does that work? I’m alive… at least, I’m pretty sure I am. Maybe I feel that way because life isn’t how I want it to be? In fact, I fucking hate life! What good has come about? Yes, I can pick and choose good things, but the fact of the matter is, it isn’t what I want and it’s likely that it will never be where I want.
Talking to my Brother last night… boy, that was painful. It’s like looking into a mirror, a mirror with spikes that are stabbing and piercing my skin while I gaze! He feels the same way I feel! I try to disallow myself from explaining or saying things out loud, I know that I do at times, that probably isn’t healthy. Why can’t I help him? I can’t help anybody.
“I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.”
Neither do I.
I’ve never known. I’ve always wanted to help people, but with age I find that I’m unsure of what I’m capable of. Forget the brain for a minute, what can my body do? My body is incapable of plenty. So much so, that in recent years I’ve said that I’d rather die than live through this. Seriously. Everyone reading this takes so many things for granted, everything. From how long you can walk, how well you can exercise, how much your self esteem isn’t broken over bladder issues, to even things like wearing shoes. Vain, so vain, but I would kill to rock a killer pair of pumps and pretend to be a pin-up model for a day. I’d kill to do this and do that. I’d kill to be sure.
Okay, maybe I wouldn’t kill but pretty freaking close.
I’m getting tired. Tired of everything.
I’m 100 million miles away from everybody, and when you reach out, you get slapped across the face, or worse yet, you’re unsure why you’re reaching out in the first place. Maybe it’s depression, maybe it’s from the pain, I don’t know any more.
I’m just going to sink away into the world of this book – beautiful world, albeit deadly and at times, horrific, it seems like a much better place than here!