Will give matchweeds for hugs
How can I feel like I know so many things but nothing at all at the same time? I'm a complete novice but I am also a master.
I guess I've just gone through too much far too quickly. And it's boring to just be writing about this again. I write it over and over and over. I think " I will write something profound" or "I will write something fun" and then I put my fingers to keys and all that comes out is
"Why, why why, I'm crumbling and sinking and being washed out to sea. Help, help, help."
I dream that I am cuddling with my mother in bed, even at six I am painfully aware of how much more fragile than me she is. If I hug her too hard she will break. And when I wake up I feel as if I will break too.
I never thought I was lonely when I was a kid. I thought I might be, but I also thought I was probably making it up. Every concern I had about myself came with my father's assurance that it was all just for attention.
I still don't know if my being is just an act for attention. So any attention I get I assume has been garnered by false pretenses, I've tricked you all into it. Whatever you saw was a performance I haven't managed to keep contained. Don't look at me, don't talk to me. If you do, it is just confirmation that I have been lying and manipulating you.
I lie to myself as well. I can't be sure if I'm really sick, or upset, or in love. I must be trying to get out of something, or distracting myself, or ignoring the truth. I'm just daydreaming, I'm just conning myself.
I want to be a good person. But when others tell me I'm good, I think I'm a worse person. It's nonsense. It's damage. I'm damaged.
I want to get better. I want to heal. I don't know how to do it in such a backwards world. It's so hard just to survive. Everyone is struggling. How am I supposed to rise above it? How am I supposed to rise above my internal struggle while also fighting the outside war?
Sometimes I think I am fine, but then I realize my body has been full of bees instead of butterflies and the buzzing is a placeholder. I can feel the tense anticipation of the end in my stomach and shoulders and I don't know what I'm waiting for.
Well, I do. I remember all the things I had to brace for before. Each crashing wave of pain and shock. I got through it, I'm still alive. But now I don't know how to live. I don't know what it's like to not brace for impact. And how do I move forward? What is it like to actually move forward rather than just keep standing despite everything trying to knock you down?
I really don't know. I don't know what I'm supposed to do in this world. I don't know how I'm supposed to survive and enjoy my existence.
I wish little me had a better childhood. I wish she was shown beauty and love and fun while feeling safe. I wish she had someone there to always hold her. I wish she didn't yearn for hugs and kisses she felt she couldn't ask for anymore. I wish she knew she wasn't a manipulator just for feeling sad or upset. I wish she always felt safe. She deserved for someone to put her first.
I grew in fear. I don't know what it's like to live a life without fear. It's all I crave and also utterly impossible to truly imagine.
