My whole life I've felt stuck reaching for something; something I think I needed for so long that in the process of acquiring it, I forgot what it meant to be me.
I am hollow and conniving; creating plans to get what I want no matter how, irrespective of others, befriending groups of people solely to achieve a goal. My strength has always been achieving goals that are measurable; somewhere along the way I started to loathe myself for continuously failing to achieve those real connections, something I can only mimic. The price of this delusion was my self hate, hating how I look, how I behave, speak, think, feel. Every characteristic about me is disgusting.
I started wanting to have real friends and love, not connections based solely to achieve some quantifiable goal. I conceive it through others and maybe that isn't even what I want. We are who we are; and I'll never achieve what I never understood to begin with.
While one hand was actively creating distractions to indulge in;the other hand was trying to absolve me of the guilt of partaking to begin with.
Absolving of the distraction is easy, but confronting the reason you did it is impossible.
Drowning on dry land; nothing is wrong so I must be the thing that is wrong.
The void, it feeds on silence, and the pain it's invisible, the end goal: to find quiet.
Running from the silence to find the quiet, that's what I want. For the longest time I had been judging myself, guilty if I do and guilty if I don't. Inside me though, there was a part of me that was watching all of this chaos and is here with me writing it down; some part of me is still redeemable and it is what will save me or at least I hope so.
Eventually you realise that in the midst of both of you, you die. You hate yourself, and you hates you for hating yourself. You can't live life like this, I know I can't it's suffocating; the observer that part of you can save all of you, or is this just some self pity bullshit I want to believe to stop you from hating me too, that's what she tells me.
She treats you like a jealous, possessive and all knowing toxic partner, any hope is delusion, any insight is self pity and any try is foolish. You can't escape her by saying, I'm a pretty flower; she knows you're lying and you know it too. Asking for help?, she tells you no stop trying to seek attention are you this shameful you'd go to such lengths, you're fine stop pitying yourself. She could be right the truth is many times she is right but that's why she's a devil she will tell you the truth and you will see it happen as she said it would; however she will slip in lies and that's where she breaks you down more and more .
Stage lights turned off, reflections no more; the fever gone , tired pale and scared standing in front of the pathway down.
Your therapist would tell you, adornments aren't fake, it's effort; the paint on the house isn't fake, it's effort. Embellishments are complicated, the lack of it is reaching for the quiet, the lighting is bad but it's raw, it's real. The use of it is effort, neither choice is wrong or right, one pains you for being you, the other pains you for not being enough even with the embellishments. Akin to picking your own poison, one hurts more but is real the other hurts less but makes you a prisoner, never able to reach the quiet.