It's been a little while.
Not as if anyone really looks forward to reading it. Or, well, I do see some eyes have at the very least clicked into these posts. But I don't know if there are any "regulars" or anything. No one ever comments, at least. But I guess it's fine.
I am in one of my middle of the night/very early morning funks. At least it's a Saturday/Sunday so I don't have to work tomorrow. That's good, eh? I guess..
Anyway, I've been actually writing down my thoughts from time to time. On paper. With a proper pen and all. Imagine that in this age of internet. But I have been writing down things that I really can't publish to the whole wide world, names included, so I can't really put them down here. I'm not one to name and shame in any way. I'm just much too bloody good. Such a fucking Hufflepuff. How did I get here from an introverted Slytherin to an outroverted Hufflepuff who feels lonely whenever I spend even one night home alone?
I've been going out a lot lately. Also drinking, which I am now trying to desperately counteract with Sober October since my health finally gave up and showed me the middle finger. It's been a week and I am honestly craving some mind-numbing substance right about now. For a girl who never wanted to become an alcoholic, I feel as if I am going through a slight withdrawal. It's not too bad, but there's a constant nag of "go out, get a drink, have a good time" somewhere in the back of my mind. "Go out, get together with people, have a drink, have a laugh, make out with someone you barely know/someone you really shouldn't and regret it later when you slink back home in broad daylight, hood thrown over your head, feeling like pure shit, with people silently judging you."
What a wonderful choice of thoughts, huh?
Just reading through some of those hand-written notes and decided to copy a few excerpts in here, I think they reflect my current train of thoughts pretty fucking well:
09.08.18, 01:22
"I've come to realize that I am a very strange person.
I need, apparently, quite a lot of physical closeness. At the same time, though, not just with anyone.
See, I leech myself onto a select few people. I get stuck to those people who in most cases nowadays are unfortunately men/boys, and I feel the need to be close to them, doing whatever.
It's maddening to know this about yourself and not have a clue as to how to change this behaviour."
---
"I go outside alone. I go to the zoo, the cinema, to restaurants, shops, everywhere.
Alone
And sometimes I want to scream.
Because it physically inside my chest hurts seeing other people not alone. Together with someone. I don't know why it physically hurts me. I have no idea what is going on there. But hurt it does."
05.09.18 01:25
"I want someone I can call or text when I'm feeling down/lonely/cold/unhappy. Someone who would come and literally just hold me. Just put his arms around me and hold me, saying nothing.
And it can't be just anyone. There are a couple guys interested in me, but there's something inside me that literally keeps rejecting even the thought. Because there's something inside me that is so fucking strongly fixated on just one person that I can't bring myself to think of a physical anything with anyone else."
/At this point my mind went on a bit of a rampage and a bit of a "decorating" spree on the next page of that notebook. Looking at it now, I wonder if I really am as sane as everyone tries to make me believe in... Or maybe I was just drunk. Might have been that.../
20.09.18 04:45
"I feel like in some ways I am still in this teenage dream. Why else would I shed tears each time I watch one of those Netflix teenage romantic comedies/coming-of-age movies? Why else?
I want someone to hold my face tenderly between their hands when they kiss me. I want to feel cherished like that. I don't always want to be groped elsewhere, or grabbed by the neck or back of my head.
Sometimes I just want to feel cherished.
Most likely because I don't cherish myself. I use the words "I hate myself" more often than not. "I hate my body", or "I hate my face/hair/clothes etc"... I don't think I've told myself "I love you" in... forever. I honestly do not remember the last time I said it. If ever..."
And then, just from a few hours ago:
06.10.18 23:34
"I have not gotten over being alone.
Where did my introverted self go? I hate Netflix and chilling alone. I want to share this time with someone. I really wanna just share my time. Cause I waste my time being alone. I do nothing productive. So I want someone to be around so I don't feel bad about being non-productive.
Yet, even realizing and knowing this about myself, I can't bring myself to change any of it. Why is that?
Why am I so against even trying to change myself in a positive way? Why?
Like... I do small things like Sober October, going to dance now again... but I still feel like it's not enough, that I could do even more.
I am so confused about myself. So bloody confused.
PS: What is considered insanity?
When does it start?"
So here we are. Here I am. Again, parts of me laid bare. And again, I guess writing helps. At least I am not crying this time. Might be too tired to cry. Or just finally realized that it's pointless.
In any case, it's not really getting better. I show a brave face to most of the world but there are a select few who see and know the real me and the shit that my brain eats through every day. They may not always have something to say to make me feel better but that's okay. At least they are there and have not yet run away. I appreciate that, more than they ever may know. And I'm sorry if I constantly keep fucking shit up. I don't really mean to, I just don't sometimes think because I get tired of thinking sometimes and that's usually when things get fucked up. So it's either thinking, which in my case is bad, or it's not thinking, which may sometimes be even worse.
Out of the rain and into the thunder, huh?
I don't have anything profound to say. This blog is also not about that. It's just here for me to rant and vent and live out my lonely thoughts in some way that keeps them (and me) contained and not driving myself to the psychiatric hospital to check myself in (like happened once before), or hitting my best friend because she was trying to get me off the middle of the road (mostly deserted, true) where I was laying down. I'm keeping myself contained as best as I can.
I keep going back to the fact that I should probably get some professional help, at least try it out. For some unknown reason, though, it seems that whenever I think about it, the next day I usually have forgotten it completely, or maybe my mind actively pushes it away. I am a masochist after all, I like inflicting mental pain on myself for some very fucked up and unknown reason to me. I guess that part of my brain really doesn't want me going off and trying to "fix" it.
I sound insane.
I probably am.
On that particularly happy note,
goodnight.
Sweet dreams to anyone reading this just before bedtime. Sweet whatever to anyone else.
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