Wednesday November 9th 2011 - 11:39pm
I feel nothing. I feel everything. I don’t know. I am numb. I am not. What am I.
I have no motivation. I don’t even have motivation to write about my lack of motivation. I just don’t care. I feel absolutely nothing but numbness and slight pity towards what I call my life. I’ve written about this before, I know. I keep hoping that with every word I spit from my brain a solution will arise. Maybe with the next sentence I type will come an epiphany of how to fix this fucked up problem of which I cannot even give a name to. Heh, how fucking pathetic am I.
I’ve fallen back into that rut. That stupid, menacing, taunting rut that always seems to linger in front of me no matter where I am in my life.
I lack the ability to express emotion (if able to feel any strongly enough worth expressing) in spoken (or written) form. Even now, I’m at loss for words when only moments ago they were flowing through my mind as if I was fucking Shakespeare. I express myself behind closed doors, in the discomfort of my own mind and I wish so badly that I was able to let it out, to scream in someone’s face “FUCKING HELP ME”. Even when given every opportunity to load my burdens onto someone else’ shoulders for a moment to regain my composure I shut down. I physically and emotionally fucking shut down. What the hell is wrong with me?
I partially, if not wholly, feel that my friends rely on me to be the one who holds it together. The friend who’s got herself in check. The one to drop their day old, left-over stained, bullshit on “because she’ll clean it up for me and hand it back like new”. Now don’t get me wrong, I hold no resentment towards them, in fact I encourage it. I beat myself up trying to be there for my friends, trying to be their rock, to the point that when I am at loss for reaction it fucking kills me. I’m trying to conquer the art of emotional control, however unsuccessful I’ve been, in order to withhold not only my own demons, but the demons of the ones close to me.
End.
