4th November, 2007
This Is Not Going To Start Well
I just burnt my hair.
This is going to be the start of a wonderful day. I can feel it already.
Posted at 11:37 pm | Comments (2)
4th November, 2007
This Is Only One Of The Stages
Apparently, I need to go through the five stages of grief: depression, anger, bargaining, denial, and acceptance.
Where am I now? At depression, according to FH. I do believe, however, that I have hit all stages already. I’ve been angry, though mostly at myself. I’ve denied the fact that there was someone else and that he really didn’t lose all romantic feelings for me. I’ve bargained with him, telling him that we could work things out, that if we were both determined and willing, it could work. This is my depression. As for acceptance, well, I’ve accepted the fact that we’re no longer together, that he’ll never hold me again, touch me again, even come close to loving me again, that I’ll never make him happy in that way again, he’ll never make me happy in that way again, that a lot of things will never happen again. I’ve accepted it. Does it mean I have to like it? No.
I just want to be like Rip Van Winkle. I want to fall asleep and wake up years later. I know, I know, it’s not dealing with the pain, the problems, etc. But I’m sick of this whole damned thing and I hate that I’m so fucking vulnerable. I hate that I can’t really do anything damn it. I can’t go to a comedic performance and laugh like I normally would. I can’t watch a movie the same way anymore. I can’t do a lot of things without being reminded.
And no matter what, I always feel like I’m trying to compete for something. I have to compete with the past and the present. I have to compete and damn it, I don’t want to compete, except I can’t take myself out of the game. It’s as if there was a time when I was winning only by a slight margin and then… poof. Everyone else pulled ahead of me and one did it by doing something over a year ago. I’ll never win with her. She’s just too involved now and I can’t do anything about it. I can’t save him, I can’t save me. Damn it. What am I fucking good for?
I walk on the streets everyday and everyday for the last few weeks, I’ve always wanted just one, one person to not stop. Does that mean that I was reckless in my walking? No, but every time, I just wanted somebody’s brakes to not work, someone to be filled with road rage, or someone careless. See, I’ve resolved now to having other people do it for me. I won’t be the initiator for my death; someone else will. Is that so morbid? I wish for a drive by, an assault, anything really. I don’t know if it’s for the perspective or if it’s for the pain, but just something bad needs to happen to me. I think that it partly validates my pain right now, it would tell me that I have actual problems to worry about instead of this God forsaken stupid heart of mine.
I’m so pathetic. Look at me! I’m supposed to be this great, wonderful, caring person and I’m sitting here like a dying flower with no sun to help grow new stems. I am so pathetic, it’s not even worth laughing at anymore.
What’s happened to me? Who is this person? Who is this person that wants to die? That wants some sort of trauma? Who is she? The person I once knew would have kept her head high, would have looked at her heart and said, “You will be okay one day. Time will heal you.” Now I look at my heart and I don’t even know what to say because it’s not really there.
Who am I?
Posted at 10:23 pm | Comments (2)