A strange mood, this one I'm in. It's as if I'm gripped by the need to do something now but also by the complete, inescapable knowledge that I am unable to do it, whatever it is. It's like loneliness and despair are trying to choke the life out of an already struggling flower who lives among weeds.
As I watch a show or read a story, I ache to change the lives of the characters so that they are happy. Actually, physically ache. I cry, my chest feels constricted with worry...it's disconcerting. Painful. And yet, I cannot escape it. I must continue reading and watching story after story. The actors are no longer actors, they are the characters. In any capacity I see them, I will only think of them as that character. And then when the actor is very accomplished in their career and I have seen many of their works, my brain becomes confused. It takes me awhile to reassign the actor to a character. Sometimes, an actor is multiple people to me. It becomes very hard to sort out.
I have a hole inside me. I thought it was healing. But I could not have been more wrong. In Twilight, the character Bella Swan describes a hole in her chest after Edward Cullen leaves her. And yet, for all the agony she describes...it does not compare to the hole in my own chest. I did not stop living as Bella did. I could not afford to. I was already under constant supervision when the hole was formed, but God how I wish I could have just died. I still often wish that I had. I cannot see my life going in a better direction. The hole formed long before I read that part of Twilight. I couldn't tell you the day, or the time. All I remember is the sudden onslaught of pain in my chest. The inability to breathe. Crying so hard I collapsed. Never in my life had I cried so hard. I haven't since. No, a boy did not leave me. Rather, it was a girl. My best friend of five years. She was my other half. She knew me as I was, faults and all. And for all I thought I knew and understood her, I learned that night that I did not. I had foolishly let myself become dependent on her. I needed her approval to breathe. And when she withdrew it...oh God. It wasn't even a total shock. I had known it was going to happen. It had before, but this time, I knew it was final. There was no turning back. I was not young. I was not inexperienced in the ways of humanity, of cruelty. Yet I was as a lamb led to the slaughter. And a part of me truly did die that night. And it's embarrassing. I let someone I had never met in real life literally destroy my life with one word. One word that I can no longer tolerate in a "final" sense. One...little word: "goodbye". Ever since then, whenever someone says that word to me for the last time, especially in anger, I have an onslaught of memories. Memories of feeling worthless, meaningless...nothing. It is then that my depression reaches it's peaks, or rather it's lowest of lows. Often, this despair induces an almost fevered state in my mind. I lost control of my thoughts. I begin to laugh at pain, to desire pain. It is then that I cut. Then that I run the blade through my skin. Then that I crave blood. The smell, the taste, the sight... It is then that I become a true monster. Try as I might, I cannot forget what happened between me and that friend. I cannot block her out of my life. Her memory is like a dark shadow, haunting and hungry for any happiness I might obtain. It reminds me that I am nothing. I am no one. The hole she left is of my own making. I was stupid enough to depend on someone else. But, it is a hole nevertheless. The edges start to heal...but with every new setback in my life, they become raw again. I love hugs, but if the truth be told, it is only because they help the hole feel less...present in my life. Part of me knows I can't blame her, and yet part of me must blame her in order to keep surviving. I hate and miss her at the same time. So not only do I have a hole the size of a bowling ball in my chest, my heart is being torn in different directions on how to deal with it. Perhaps now you can see why I so often wish to die. Yes, I'm sure there are people out there who have it worse off than me...but that does not change how I feel. I wish it would. As it is, I have the distinct feeling that I shall be stuck in emotional limbo for the rest of my life in one way or the other.
And this isn't even touching the fact that my life is now ruled by the biggest mistake I ever made.
