Tuesday, May 10, 2011

What is it with me?
God. I miss my life as it used to be. I miss having at least one day in the week I didn't cry, one day in the week I didn't plan the notes I'd leave or the way I'd go, in my mind or on paper. It would hurt the people I love so much to just look through my diary.
I'm lucky. I've got some amazing people in my life, I'm in love, and I know I have the ability to make lasting friends easily, if I choose to do so. I haven't attempted to make any good friends recently, and I've been neglecting most of my friendships, because the only future I've been imagining is one without me, and I figure, what's the use of hurting someone else? I don't want to feel like this, I wouldn't wish it on anyone. Death would be better than this, but I can't do that, I have people to please and a life to live... whether or not I want to live it, I should be grateful I have it. I hate this feeling of living only for someone else- that's not saying anyone's living through me, it's just that other people's will is the only thing keeping me going. There's no reason I should feel like this, there are people out there who would be jealous of me, and I've given advice exactly against what I'm feeling. Words don't help though, not anymore. They used to be a release, they used to be a drug to me. I'd let some negativity out, or take some positivity in, and I'd get the high that comes from giving up some burden. Now I let out or take in  more, and more, and more, and the maximum high I'll get lasts about half an hour.
There's nothing wrong with my life. I love it, and the people in it. Something's got to be wired wrong, because I can't get anything but pain out of light, love, and positivity, and when something goes the slightest bit wrong I sink to a new and dangerous low.
I've promised four months- three and a half or so left by now- and I'll stick that out, definitely. I don't break my promises. It's going to be difficult though, and if I last for longer than a week later I'll be surprised.
I really don't want to hurt people. I want to create new, and lasting memories with amazing and intricate friendships, but I can't do that if even now I'm killing myself without trying.
Fuck, I've got to get out of this, please, please, let me save myself.

1 comment:

  1. if you can promise four months.
    keep promising.
    promise another week after that,
    and then another.
    just do it.