Thread: O Fortuna...

I have come to the conclusion that no one will be able to really understand me. Those who have followed me over the years will know that I am one messed up individual that will never be able to get better without some sort of help. Help which I don't even know exists for someone like me. This all really started years ago. Being told repeatedly over and over again that I was this worthless slob that never would get what she dreamed for - let alone get any attention from something that would future her own life. So why should she bother trying if all she will amount to is the bottom of the food chain. That I will never be better than my siblings and they will always come first before me. Rejection now has become such a sensitive topic becuase of how I react to it. My mind has now accepted it as just a part of life that will always happen - not just becuase I didn't do something right. No - now it's a constant acceptance that has pushed me to the point where I can take a simple form of silence as rejection. People don't see that side of me because I keep it so wrapped up under lock and key so that they don't worry about me and they don't see what happens in my room at night and I just let my inner demon out to mock me because I should have known better. I should have known better than to learn to trust someone with some of my darkest secrets and expected them to stay put. To have them accept me as an individual for WHO the fuck I am. Do I even know who I am anymore? I doubt it. I've come to the road of all roads where I still haven't chosen the path most people have settled into. I'm not good enough to do what I want to do because it seems like no matter where I go to I'm in another negative household. Sane only long enough to get 'pseudo' stable before crashing down. Something always sets off the chain reaction of things. Something as small as being told you're a bum, and then moving across the county to a so-called 'safe' place. Said safe place where you are now burdened with so many secrets that people don't get that is hard to keep them all. Especially when I know I should tell one of them what is really going on. But no, I am a good friend, in order to be a good friend one must keep their mouth shut or loose a home from beneath them. Because no matter where I look I'm at that point. If I tell my roommate what is going on a few things willmay happen A. He'll move back to Minnesota B. He'll probably off himself C. She'll never speak to me again D. I'll end up going back to grams. Fun isn't it? See that is why I don't like being in this little triangle of things. Was it my fault that she ended up sleeping with Mr. Sir? No probably not, but I feel like it. I feel like if I just left him home that weekend things would have been a lot different. So much so that maybe he would realize what is going on with me. He doesn't realize that at this point how much of a mess I have become. On one hand I feel pressured to be myself, yet on the other hand I am told that I need to 'loosen up' and 'not be so paranoid'. I'm sorry that isn't how I am. I am paranoid because of things that have happened. Men have gotten away with things because my body's fightflight reflex no longer responds because of what happened a few years ago. My mind, at the same time, does not respond to pleasure unless there is emotion behind it. I can't be someone normal because that is who I am. I AM NOT NORMAL. I never will be the happy-go-lucky kid that I gave the illusion to when I was little. I mean that - by the time I was 3-4 I already had this voice inside of me telling me that my mom would never be proud of me. FOUR! I remember it like yesterday that my mom had been trying to make flower boxes with me. And I wanted her box a certain way because I knew it would be prettier for my mom but someone had put the wrong flowers in the wrong box. So I switched the plants out and put them in the right 'boxes'. At the same time I kept hearing Mommy isn't going to love you if you do this. etcetc. Do you know how it's like to have those types of thoughts at that age? Over something such as a -flower box-? People like to compare me and my roommate to thinking we have the same sort of background. Possibly that might be the case - only in reverse. Where instead in my case it was the younger children who became the prefered over the older. For years I thought my mom only had me around for babysitting reasons. Or monetary purposes even once I had a solid job. My other thing was though was when it was said to my face by my grandmother on more than one occasion of this being so when I lived there. I feel like people are trying to shape me into their ideal without helping me figure out just who I am. What I am even. I know my innate talents. I know how they fluctuate on and off for years. However I don't have met very few people who decided to accept me for...well me. Knowing that it was work to keep me from getting to the point I am now. This isn't the first time this has happened, but I digest it's about the worst it has been since I had the peak of it back in high school. Accept this time I feel like the 'rejection' had gotten worse and worse - unintentional from my standing, maybe but I cannot control my brain to think otherwise. I'm not known to being a mean person. Usually quite the opposite. The night I had said what I had said to Mr. Sir...I was upset, and getting more and more agitated as the night went on. To the point I wanted to strangle something. I had promised Mr. Sir that instead of taking out my anger on things Cars, Trees, walls...etc and end up hurting myself that I would try and talk to him about it. Look where it got me now I literally loose it because my mentality makes it so translate what he says into being 'Nonresponsive' or 'uncaring'. Which may or may not have been true. I don't know at this point enough to say whether I'm thinking this is right or wrong. What matters is that it was said and done because the negativity I take in can only be handled for so long. I love helping people - it's in my nature to help people, but there is only so much ture pressure I can take. And as a consequence for my actions I lost a friend. A good friend, a friend who had been my saving grace for a good long time. Why? Because I thought he understood...me. Wishful thinking on my part I suppose. The sad thing is that nowadays I can count on one hand those friends who will be there when I need them. ONE HAND. I used to be a social butterfly and go this way and that and have friends wherever I went. Not now. It's hard enough to find someone who will respect you for you without trying to change who you are. Being thrown with negative thoughts for years upon years, my inner demon knows me at my weakest and knows just what to say to me when I finally let go. The past two months I've hit a rock slide of emotions, and the first weekend of every month I've cried, because at those times my demon made itself known. Two of those times were unintentionally triggered by Mr. Sir, because both times I thought he broke his word to me. Promises I hold on so tightly to because of how rare they are kept by anyone. I don't...mean to push people away from me when I need them. But I have shown my demon on more than one occasion and have only been been destroyed by it for so few of my friends lingered long enough after it's aftermath to realize that what I said the day it made itself known I didn't really mean...and yet for some it means the end of everything, for who could truly be friends with someone who lashes out at you when you've made a mistake unknowingly? Even I should know better, but apparently I don't. And I'm trapped sitting here in this despot of my own depression to know that I fucked up. And in the process lost one of the few rocks that I clung to for the sake of knowing someone understood me. Does anyone really understand me? Even at my worst, it seems only a small small few do. Maybe one, two or at most three now. They know what sets off my triggers by now to know what not to say and what subtle hints can reveal what is going on with me. Knowing that it's hard for me to not keep it in and let someone known there is something fucking WRONG with me. I don't want to hear my demon anymore. I don't want to know that in my mind I'll never live up to anybody's expectations or make them -proud- of me for being WHO I AM. To believe in me because I am doing the best I can.