Warning: Fragile
I feel like if anyone touches me, I'll break. Even if it's a hug, I'll just break. It doesn't matter if they love me or not, at this point enough bad things have happened that I'll just fall apart. I really hate feeling this way. All day today I've been kind of tearing up and then having take a few deep breaths to calm myself down. I'm nearing hysterical, and it's just not fun.
Why?
Some bad shit has happened to me, and I just don't want to talk about it. I'm shamed and feeling alone, and it takes me a while to come out of all that. I know all I have to do is just hold on. Eventually, this won't matter. My Aunt Brenda said it in a nice way when she was like "I think you're seriously misunderstanding; this particular moment is just that, one moment in time, and you have a lot more moments. This isn't the be all and end all, and this will fade away; the only thing that matters is what you do with it".
I think she kind of hit the nail on the head with that one. I can't imagine the fact that all the things that I feel pressure about actually CAN wait. There's not really any rush, and I'm just imagining it. I don't need any boy to complete me or give me approval. I don't need to be perfect. I don't have to have everyone think highly of me. I don't need anything that I think I need so bad. The bitch of this is that now I'm crying because I still can't make myself believe that. My chest hurts so bad, just that empty, painful feeling.
I feel so alone. People keep telling me they love me, but they're not the right people. All the people I ever really try to make love me, and I really try to make pay attention to me never do. They just breeze over me, like I was just a stepping stone for them. That hurts so bad, and I don't think I'll ever actually just be used to it. My mom said it was just something I need to learn to guard against... and I guess she's right... but I've always thought that it's better to be open and try and get hurt than to just.... stop trying. I dunno. I don't think that's quite what she meant. I'm just tired, and I can't sleep enough. I don't know what I want to do. I can't figure it out, and the more I try to think the more I feel like I'm picking up pieces of a broken vase and trying to put it all back together. By the time I figure out what piece goes where, another one's fallen back off, and I can't keep my hands on all of them at once.
I just need to calm down. Everything will be okay. I'm fine, right? There's nothing wrong with me. The more I stay around all of these Jesus-freaks the more I wonder if God is some sort of drug for them. I'm still not ready to convert, even though it's kind of tempting sometimes. I'll always remember that they're the ones that told me I'm going to hell for something that is me, and though I do sometimes forgive, I will never forget. Ever.
Now, I'm going to go and have a cigarette and try to keep myself from breaking. I'll wrap myself in tape or something, but I feel so terrible. I don't know. For the first time in a really long time, I've been seriously considering just... falling down and not getting back up.
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