Grow Up

Was I doomed to spend the rest of my life not being invited to reality? Just sitting here in my own little world, struggling to make sense of everything that was going on around me. Trying hard to picture how to untangle myself from the consciousness I had created. Is this all life was? A struggle to make sense and shape of everything you hear and see?  Was there an easy solution to this problem, again I headed back to thinking about salvation. It must be easier than this, a final switching off of the mind that was causing me to slowly break down, unable to communicate with people, too worried to be taken the wrong way, misunderstood, when I all wanted was to be accepted, to be part of a group, a group I had never felt part of my whole life. I was always on the fringes, I could find no way to not be on the edges. I had problems articulating what I wanted to say as I was too worried and anxious about every word or sound I made. If the people I loved couldn’t understand me, how then could other people understand me. I think back to the time I took my ex to London, I was so anxious to not disappoint her; I spent the whole first day with a migraine, that left me physically unable to do anything other than collapse on a bed and want to die. This was one of our first trips away, and it set in motion a pattern for most other trips, I would be so anxious to not offend anyone or upset her that I made myself ill on every trip. Every trip involved a day or a few days of me being unable to do anything through fear of upsetting people, people unable to understand my accent only made the issues worse and I always felt massively alone, even when surrounded by people, unable to articulate my feelings, until eventually, I made myself really ill. The pain in my head forcing me to beg a god that does not exist to kill me. Why is it in our darkest moments that we suddenly find god, is god nothing more than a comfort blanket to our soul’s despair? The pains would be so strong, I would become nauseous and throw up, the actions of throwing causing the pain in my head to magnify, igniting a vicious circle that would only end when I became so exhausted that I finally passed out. Alone, drenched in sweat, ignored by everyone, even the god I was praying too. The pains slowly subsiding; eventually, I could crawl out of my cocoon and then just face the arguments of how I ruined every trip by being ill. I could never find the words to describe why I had become so sick, so painfully ill, my vocabulary would just leave me, and I would just sit there in silence as I was once again berated. Made to feel tiny and insignificant, a being that could never truly be loved, all I caused was pain and misery, unwittingly unleashing it upon her life. I was a source of misery, and she was a patron saint for putting up with me and did I not know it. I was being destroyed, every one of these one-sided arguments piled on the pressure so come the next trip I was already worried, anxious, terrified that these moments of pure anxiety would wash over me and drive me back towards pleading with a non-existent god to kill, surely an exercise in futility. Still, I could never find the words to express my anxiety, any attempt being shot down with the simple answer, “Grow up.”

Wondering Wander

I spend all my time wondering as I wander along the road of life. I make mistakes, I never truly learn from them. I hate the idea of love, but at the same time, I am a hopeless romantic.

I create my own myth in my head, reality never lives up to it. I then stand there alone and confused and wonder where it all went wrong. It never went wrong, it was never going there in the first place. I can not seem to read situations or people, I get it all confused.

This confusion building up and adding to the myriad of problems I see. I try and be a better person, but this just makes me feel used. Perhaps I was used, but I allowed it to happen to me as I built a myth in my head. How do I bring these myths down with destroying myself or those around me?

I can not. I turn and run, hide away and hope it will fix itself. It never does, and I end building another myth to allow myself to carry on, never fixing the root of the problem. The root will always find another way to grow anyway, so why to delve deep into my psyche and sort myself when I can build a new life, it may not be real, it may all come tumbling down, but just now it is all I have.

I hold on and start to lay the bricks.

Survival

Life, we all want to survive, or so we are told. Many of us don’t though. Today I am facing a void, another night spent thinking about the futility of my existence and why do I try. I spent the whole night wondering why I want to burden people so. My presence is a burden.

It is weight and an issue for people I know. I don’t want to talk and the more you tell me to speak, the less likely I am to do it. I want to be alone; I like the dark. I can not face being social now, I have tried it, and it eats at me. All I can do is sit and scroll through internet articles, waiting until I can go home. Willing the time to pass, worried that I seem weird by existing. I sit and blend into the scene, let everyone else have a great time, and maybe they will think I am loving being out.

I am not but don’t be weird, don’t make it weird. They all know I am weird. Everyone is looking at me, am I narcissistic? I shouldn’t care, I do care but I shouldn’t. Why are they looking at me, why talk to me? Please don’t talk to me, I can’t cope, I think slower, I speak more gradual, and I can’t say what I want as I am too slow. The time has passed. Am I still here?

I don’t want to be here. I want to be in a room by myself and with nothing, nothing I want nothing, the trueness of nothing. No pressure, no need for acceptance, escape. How do I escape, there is only one true escape. The judging that would come would my soul avoid that? Do I have a soul? I doubt it but would an eternity of this pain be worth the temporary escape? Would it be worse, could it be worse?