I’m pretty sure that I’m fundamentally broken. It’s the only real reason I can even think of to explain why I’m so impossible to love. Why it’s so difficult to find the same respect in speaking to me as others receive. Maybe I expect too much, and that’s why. Or maybe I’m too thin now. Or too ugly. Or … maybe I just deserve all the misery. If Goddess exists, and I have no faith in that at all, if She hates me so much, I wish She’d end me already; save me the torture of doing yet another job alone.
I’ve never felt less beautiful, less useful, more worthless or more invisible than I do right now. I can’t even stand to look at myself in the mirror because I don’t want to vomit again. I have nothing left to give up other than my words, and those are next. Not because I want to. I have to. I have nothing left.
My dreams are dead and I think it’s because I’m not meant to have anything. People take until they have what they want, then leave. Everyone forgets that maybe I’m struggling, because I don’t exist until I’m wanted for something.
The insecurity is crippling. The knowledge that I let my dream die again because I’m not strong enough is agonising. That what someone I care about told me is fact and I was too blind to see it hurts. You were right – always with the truth bombs.
The truth in the eyes of those I should never have to ask support from that it matters to no one but me – that I can’t deal with now. I wish I had never exhumed my desire. I wish I’d never listened to those who told me I could. Because I can’t. I’m a failure.
How the hell am I supposed to teach my kids to teach for the stars chained to the rotting corpse of my own dreams? It’s not even an option, and I can’t fight. I don’t have the energy.
I fucking HURT!!
I fucking HATE to cry
and I’m sitting here weak sister with no balls or a backbone and powerless to do anything about it. I swore I’d never be helpless again. Idiot. I’m so fucking stupid to believe in anything. I don’t even want to talk to anyone anymore. What’s the point.