Today was an extremely normal day. Not just for me, but most people would consider it normal. I got up, had coffee, studied, relaxed, played video games, went for a drive…and followed all this with an hour of heart wrenching inexplicable panic that had me screaming into a pillow.


I don’t remember why it happened. It just did. A piece of me thinks it’s this place. Not my apartment so much, as the area where the building is.


In the last seven or eight months I feel like I’ve lost everything, the hollowness of my body following the fights and all the yelling can still render me senseless. Every sound washes together until it’s like the static when the satellite kicks out, the objects in front of me turn to water colour and eventually become indistinguishable. It’s the memories of hard times that are still doing so much damage to me in the long run. That pain still feels as fresh sometimes. The wounds of false friendships only pretend to heal for me and are torn open at my highest moments effectively reminding me of my humanity and overall sensitivity.


No one wants to deal with a crazy person. No one knows how to be there just enough, but give enough space; or how to care without smothering, how to know when silence comforts more than endless yammering. No one knows how to love a crazy person enough, not me anyway. Nobody who says they care sticks around to weather whatever it is that I am…crazy? Unstable? Sick? …just…so lonely, and afraid.


I feel more alone than I ever have, and I have no one to reach out to.


I’m more ready to let go tonight than I ever have been, but part of me wants to live because what if tomorrow is better? I’ve been told that things can get better. I want it so bad that I’m willing to wait another day.


It doesn’t make any sense that I want to die right now, because I couldn’t do it, I’m still waiting for something. Whatever it is I’m waiting for has to be more important than how lonely I am now, or how badly I’ve screwed up in the past.


It’s almost a year since I sat down in a chair to tell everything to someone who cared enough to get a paycheque. But today, even with all that’s been said above, I admit that there is something really wrong, but I’m working on at least identifying it enough to start working back on a path to things being less wrong, maybe even some form of right.


I am so lonely, so much that I physically feel empty. I ache for someone to be here right now, even just to sit with me while I cry, but I know that I’ll see someone soon. Oddly, wonderfully, for now it’s enough. I’m glad to say that I can wait, hold out and be safe from myself. Even if it’s just long enough to find someone to sit with, it will mean more strength, more life for me.


I don’t want to stay alone, because I know that I put myself here. So at 10:37 PM I’m deciding to put myself somewhere else, even if only in a daydream.


I want to beat this thing…sickness…or imbalance….bad perception? Missed signals? Whatever it is….I don’t want to lose a war I’m waging on myself anymore. I’m scared that I’ve got to put my faith in me, but for some reason, through all of this, I feel like for now, it will be enough.


"I have heard there are troubles of more than one kind. Some come from ahead and some come from behind. But I've bought a big bat. I'm all ready you see. Now my troubles are going to have troubles with me!" –Dr.Seuss






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