Questions and doubts are the only things that seem to be playing in my head. Trying to remind myself that this is just all part of the game the monster likes to play with me and then questioning whether i believe that or not. Wondering if it is actually worth making connections with people when i know i will never be good enough for what they deserve. And wondering if, in standing up for what i believe if i feel better standing alone right now or not.
i don’t want to see people. Because i don’t want to have to pretend to be whatever i’m not right now. And we say it’s okay to not do that. We say we can be honest with people. And maybe that’s true, behind the closed doors of your home with a close friend. Or whispered with one person who you might be able to trust but you aren’t sure because trust is kind of for suckers anyway. i can’t be how i am right now around people without every wrong question being asked, look being given, hearing every sigh or seeing every eye rolling. And maybe even if that wasn’t the case i wouldn’t want to see people. i don’t know. Right now i feel broken. Not “unfixable” but kind of like a chain that falls off on a bike sometimes. i don’t want to be around people when i’m broken.
The questions roll on and on and on, is it really that i don’t want to be around people or do i doubt that people want to be around me? Am i scared of what they will think of me when they see me broken? How do people muster up the energy to speak to other people? Why can’t i just fake it for days and weeks anymore? Was that really better? Why can’t i have brain chemistry that works? Why is it so wrong to want to relieve all the pressure? What would people think if they knew how many hypothetical questions i asked and then googled? Should i be worried about those questions? Do i even deserve to be asking those questions? Why can’t someone who cares more than i do right now be doing this?
i want to say this writing thing is worthless but i know it isn’t. i know it helps me. i know it is something solid for me to grasp when nothing else seems graspable. But right now, at this moment, it feels worthless. It feels like something no one cares about, something i do because someone else suggested it was a better thing to do than my other coping mechanisms. It feels like words that i am standing at the top of a cliff screaming and no one is hearing. And it isn’t a matter of page views or comments or anything like that. It’s just a matter of writing these stream of consciousness things and then still feeling like i’m standing alone at the top of the cliff. There’s no immediate relief. The monster can burrow into every crevice so quickly but needs all the time in the world to find its way out.