smileyjess

i have lost all sense of self control. i have lost all sense of control. my life is endlessly spinning and i am helpless (hopeless?) to stop it. i stand by, looking on, watching, waiting, gasping in terror, and the yet the spinning continues. my stomach lurches with motion sickness, thick swallows push it back, an ironic sense of dignity maintained. when i cannot bear it, i walk away from the spinning. it hurts to watch, each rotation incising another scar on easily-bruised skin. i walk away alone because i arrived alone. no one else wanted to watch with me. it is a sick sort of enjoyment not for the faint of heart.

what are you worth when no one is looking?

i am bound in a straitjacket of sorts, arms tied crisscross, straps holding me back. i barely put up a fight before submission. i hang, dangling, swaying slightly. i cannot grasp myself; i am not myself. this cannot be me. and still i stare on, as you do when you see a car accident on the side of the road, shards of glass across three lanes, fiercesome jutting metal sticking out, bright yellow caution tape and flashing red lights atop ambulances. plural. you don't want to look, but you do, and then you wish you hadn't.

"I wanted someone to say, Oh, poor baby, everything will be okay, we'll make it better. I did not want someone to say, This is bullshit. No one wants to hear the truth about themselves."

it's hard to describe. a deadly cocktail of loneliness, loathing, and hopelessness. the scale is perpetually tipped because all other emotions are overpowered. there are brief instances where you can forget and you can focus on other things, other needs, but then, when it is just you and the darkness under the weight of a lead-heavy down comforter, and you are suffocating in a fort of floral pillowcases, you are faced with the truth. music won't help, books won't help, order won't help. heavy eyelids close but the mind stays open. it hurts, but this time you can't walk away. you have no where to go. grinning maniacally somewhere in the darker recesses of thought is a hissing omnipresent reminder of things i am not and cannot be.

i hate that i dont know what will happen these next few weeks, i hate that i feel so helpless and at the mercy of the Forces That Be. i do not know where i will be six months from now and that scares the fucking shit out of me. i do not know if i'll be by myself, i do not know if i will be the same/different/okay/not okay, i do not know how to say goodbye, i do not know how to say hello, i do not know which is the right choice, or should i have gone with door number three?

all of the above?

"We were living inside a pressure cooker, competition tough, stakes very high, the certainty of our futures nonexistent, the knowledge that one is choosing a difficult life clear and the awareness that one's chances of 'Making It' were slim. This created, quite simply, a hunger ... an empty space in many of us that gnaws at our ribs and cannot be filled by any amount of food."