I think I'm coming to terms with the reality that I am not destined for anything bar this constant, pervasive sadness and a feeling of not-belonging.
I want to be grateful - I am all too aware of the privilege I seem so ungrateful towards - but in all honesty I am tired of existing in this world, and of feeling so alone and so helpless within it.
I'm staring at my twenties through the barrel of a gun and they are gone and wasted and lost to a string of events not within my control; and the dreams I fought and worked so hard for have slipped further and further away, as I slip further and further into an abyss of being truly, irrevocably... alone.
There is a percentage within my own head, a percentage that is self-inflicted and thought up, of course; but I know now for certain that there is also a large percentage of that that seems to just be ingrained into my aura. Something is wrong within me; different, damaged, strange and people can smell it from a mile away.
People online may have clocked that this is a by-product of neurodivergence, and perhaps it once started that way, but the people that sing of their quirks and their individuality and their traumas seem somehow to exist in a world that I don't know how to get to, where community still exists and people might actually understand.
Years of being nothing but collateral to the violent and targeted whims of people that should, in theory, have loved me the most have left me as nothing but a shell of my potential. I can no longer unmask because there is nothing left underneath. There is nobody there. And so, desperate for whatever I can get and recklessly considerate and empathetic of human fallibility and nature, I accept a reality where I am consistently disrespected by those around me, just so I can keep the very few still there, there.
But if I am being honest, it is a war in my head as to if it is worth keeping these people around at all. I already feel alone within their presence - is it better or worse to truly have no-one, or have a few people around that in reality think so little of me and do not share in my ambition or dreams? Those that, instead of lifting me up and giving a helping hand, seek retribution for small resentments that they've long harboured, things that they never communicated, for things that I was unaware had caused upset. Things I said when I was simply attempting to help a friend in need... Yet, in my times of need, I am criticised and brought to tears and left floundering with little to no support for not knowing how, or where to join in a conversation.
And, instead of being seen with the empathy and understanding that I justify the actions of others with, I am judged. I am judged and gossiped about behind my back, and I have it thrown in my face that I seem disinterested and awkward. Anyone else would be awkward and quiet too if they had lived my existence and been as isolated as I have been. And I did not make the choice to end up this way, to have my light taken from me. Yes, I chose the relationships at the start, but I was bamboozled and drawn in unaware, and when I reached out for a hand to pull me out of the bottomless pit my perpetrators threw me in I was left to my own devices to get out with a broken spine and spirit and instead of raising me up when I attempted to re-enter society those friends hold onto bitterness and let you fight alone and then they criticise you for not knowing what the fuck to do anymore.
MegTheFriendlyGhost was just a fun moniker, a nod to a favourite childhood character and a brief stint in a hometown band. Instead it's become my whole being. A story I wrote myself into, a sick prophecy or fate of my somehow being here, but invisible.
I'm less friendly now. Apathy and takers have drained all that I had to give. And I had a lot of love to give. It just wasn't enough for those I shared it with.
I'm no stranger to being suicidal, to wishing I could simply not exist. But every time I get out of one situation I end up in another and I am tired of fighting and tired of fighting alone.
I am tired of replying to people's stories on instagram that are never read. I am tired of making plans with people and travelling hours to make effort to continue friendships with people who never follow through, who forget or double book, who never make the effort to come to me or try to make plans or invite me. I'm tired of being penalised by the one person who did invite me to things for turning events down that aren't my kind of thing, or because of my shitty financial situation that has had me fucked up all year coming in the way, and of being punished by their self-righteousness for saying no with a promise and statement of "well I'm not going to invite you anymore". That's not friendship, nor support, nor understanding.
I deserve more. From my family, friends and my partner. So called. Call me ungrateful, but they give the bare minimum and repeatedly disrespect and hurt me with the expectation that forgiveness is a given because they know I have nowhere else to go without them and I have no forgivingness left to give. My patience no longer exists and I truly think I'd be better off without. I'm already alone.
All of this to say, I think I'm done. I won't be dramatic as I have in the past with active attempts to take my own life; loud bids, begging for somebody to notice the hurt I feel only reinforced how alone I am after and drove people further away.
I think instead I'll simply continue to slowly fade away. I'm already an afterthought, my needs non-existent. I've been fading and left to my own devices for years now. I'll simply continue down this route of quiet implosion until I'm nothing but an echo in the wind.
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