I wonder sometimes if I’ll ever stop hating myself. Maybe hate isn’t the right word. I think the more appropriate word to use would be hurting.
When ever I find a piece of sanity and peace I always end up going back to everything that causes me stress and discomfort. It’s like comfort food. It’s never something healthy that’s low sugar/salt it’s always the greasiest, fattiest most sugary food you can find because some how dirty food makes you feel good about yourself.
Dirty food makes you feel good about yourself. I should make a sticker and fill my wall with some of the analogies that fall out of my head/mouth.
I think I’m too lazy and I procrastinate on everything I do so I never get to stay in the good places I find. I some how always convince myself that if I go back to the bad things that give me anxiety it won’t be as bad as before. Surprise it’s worse, good job Sour Rambles you played yourself (again). I’m the only one who can stop this cycle and I’m probably just too lazy to do it.
Honestly it’s moments like this that offing myself doesn’t seem like such a bad idea. Although it does seem like a lot of work and I would be that person that would want all my thoughts out so when I’m gone the people around me can get some perspective to my state of mind. Hmmm…. For now it’s on the back burner.
There’s so many… words? No… Hmm I can’t think straight right now.
It’s burning inside of me. I can feel the burning liquid
pushing its way up my throat and it’s disgusting. All of it is so disgusting I
want to purge it from my system, but it won’t leave It’s just sitting there,
why? Just get out and leave me be! Why do you continue to keep me prison to
your rage? You make me feel weak and I hate it. I wish you would just cease to
exist. Why won’t you die? Leave me, just leave.
No matter how many times I push you down you continue to force
your way back to the surface and I hate that you do that. I’m so frustrated and
angry all the time. Every waking moment there’s nothing but rage and all manner
of distorted feelings flowing inside my head. I hate it! I wish I could rip you
from my body and make you suffer as much as you’ve made me suffer, as you’ve
made so many people suffer. I want to slip my fingers around your filthy throat
and watch the life slip from your eyes. I want to hack you to pieces and set
your chunks a light and watch you burn away. I will ensure every moment is slow,
savoured and extremely painful. Every day I live with this rage, this pain,
what more is there left to give? You’ll never leave me, only death will
separate us and maybe not even then.
Can you just imagine… Death separates us from all manner of
things, life, marriage, friendship but wouldn’t it be so funny if death let you
slip in with me? I would much rather lose every appendage on my body one by one
with each loss more painful then the next then let you continue to live in me
in death.
Occasionally, I’ll have these moments, moments that make me
feel weak and disgusted in myself. I hate feeling like I’m losing control over
myself. I should be the one thing I can control in a world that’s filled with
uncontrollable nonsense. I should be able to control when I want to let loose
and when I need to be firm etc, however I always find myself here in this place
losing faith in everything I built up for myself. Every time I think that I’m
getting somewhere I get shot back to the reality that I don’t want to live in.
I want to leave this place and leave all of it behind. Everything that holds me
in this space I want to leave behind.
Growing up I never fully understood why villains behaved the
way they did but as you get older you start to understand, and you start to
relate and that just makes me feel so immensely empty inside. What more do I
hold onto? Where do I place my faith when everything out there asks for
compensation and I can’t even rely on myself to be steady and sure? My space is
violated, I try to scrub away the filth and I try, and try, and yet the more I
clean away the more this muck creeps up around me. Are you trying to consume
me? Will you be satisfied then? How long before I get to live my Life the way I
want to live it? When do I get to stop looking over my shoulder and just live?
Maybe I’m not meant to live a life like that. Maybe I’m just meant to be
another statistic and break my mothers’ heart one more time.
It feels like it would be so easy but why would I give you
the satisfaction? You don’t deserve me.
Sour Rambles 