I don't know how to describe how I'm feeling these days. I just know I can't summon the energy to care. I don't lift a finger in the house to cook or clean. I don't look after the pets. I do the bare minimum in self care. And only because I know if I don't watch it I'll get heat. So I do the least possible to avoid interest. To avoid intervention. Because you don't want intervention. Intervention can't save you. It won't make you care any more with someone breathing down your neck asking if you've brushed your teeth today. I don't want anything any more. I don't look forward to anything. I just try to get through the day with the least amount of upset. Don't rock the boat. I'm not overtly weepy, I'm not angry. I'm not even numb. I just am. I'm not hoping for better in the future. Seems pretty clear this is the best it'll be. I have a flat. I share it with my brother. Shouldn't that be enough. But it's not. And yet I don't know what's missing. I don't know what's gnawing away inside. That's left all my wires exposed. Would it be better if my parents where with us? No, I don't think it would. I just think I'm incapable of being happy. There's a void there that can't and won't be filled by anything. And I'm tired of trying to figure it out. I don't want to talk any more. The only thing that pricks my nerves about it all is when I get in trouble about it. And it's so childish. I don't care about having done the deed I just don't want to be caught out. And I can't stand people telling me where I'm going wrong or what I need to do. Can't stand it. It sets off all my triggers. It's that selfish bit that just wants to be left to its own devices, despite it causing trouble for other people. I just want to do what I'm doing. I just want to survive and not be given any crap about it. That's about the long and the short of it. I don't want to be disciplined.
It'd make it easier if I cared that it was upsetting people. That it was hurting people but I don't. I look at how frustrated my brother gets and I just feel blank. Or, if you can even imagine the nerve, I can feel frustrated. I don't appreciate him getting upset with me. I just want him to leave me alone to try and lose myself. I don't want to be present. I hate being present. I hate it most when we're in the middle of the town centre. it's too overwhelming. The noise is unbearable. Everyone living and complaining or rejoicing about their days and I just don't want to hear about it. I will them away in my head. All of them. I dream of that moment at the beginning of 28 days later. The streets deserted. Seems like heaven to me. When people talk around me sometimes it's so painful. Their laughs, so jaggedly pitched it rips at my flesh. You feel as if they're mocking you with every gasp. It's infuriating and you just want to scream at them to shut the fuck up. All you want is a little silence. is it too much to ask? It's all about how it's inconveniencing you, beneath you or about you in some awful way. You're simultanesouly invisible and the centre of atention all at once, all the time. There's no escape.
And you don't enjoy people's company. Like everything else you're just trying to get through. You're clock watching. Seeing the minutes drift away & wondering how many more you'll need to put in for it to appear like you're a normal human being. How much time says I care? It's all an equation, a balancing act. You're always weighing it out in your head. If I spend this much time with such and such, then I don't need to feel guilty or worry about checking in again for x amount of time. Even people you've known all your life aren't exempt. As much as you'd hoped to want to be around them you never do. It's ok when they're here. You suffer it happily but you never really enjoy it. Not entirely. Whatever that means. As much as I may want to be, I'm just not interested. It's not their fault. There's just something missing in me & I can't put my finger on what it is. And I'm pretty sure the Mighty Oz doesn't have one in stock.
I don't enjoy feeling this way. And I don't revel in people's pain... Well maybe sometimes I do. If I'm honest sometimes I quite relish picking a fight and seeing how people react. I'm not proud of it but it is there. Its always been a part of me. For the most part though I'd give anything to be a nice person. To be one of those people that light's up a room. Someone irrepressible. Incandescent. Someone that didn't have their heads firmly lodged up their own backsides and cared to make a difference. Someone that actively tried to make the world a better place. I see people like that all the time and they intrigue me. How does a person come to be that. How can a person be so good? What it must be like not to be consumed with bitterness and remorse and rage. It seems quite serene. It seems beautiful. I don't think I'll ever manage the selfless life though. I'm too caught up on what wasn't there from day one & envying all the wondrous things that happen to people now. That question just rolls over and over. Why not me? Why aren't I good enough to be loved? To be important. To be missed. To be lavished? No one would ever go out of their way to do something for me. And I hate that. I spit acid at the thought. That from day one I was deemed not good enough & there was no come back. I'm never going to be special. I'm never going to be thought of passionately by anyone. I'm never going to achieve anything of any note. I'm never going to be noticed.
The worst part is people who do have it, always want to placate you & pretend that it's not that important. That you're not missing out. When nothing could be farther from the truth. I'm so sick of being pitied & patronized. They just want to hush you up so they don't need to deal with you. That's the real truth. No one is listening. No one. We're all clock watching in our own way. We're all caught up in our own little bubbles. And do our best to minimize disturbances to our peace by any means. Regardless of collateral damage.
