Wednesday, 29 October 2014

YOU Hurt Me More Than The Razor Blade

Hello, Schneckens.

I woke up and cut myself. What a bleak way to start the day. I arise from my slumber and I draw blood almost instantly; before I have even looked outside the window to look at the world encircling me with its never ending problems. This time I step it up a notch - I use a razor blade. Never have I used a razor blade as a way to physically harm myself, but this morning I really needed it. You see, I feel an array of emotions, that trying to discuss in depth, is close to near impossible. Yet this single graze from the cold razor blade summarises it better than I could ever do.

Where to start? 'Where isn't there to start?' seems like a better question because these feelings haven't just popped up and been like 'sup, bitch?' I'll start with Monday because that's when I started to feel a tad helpless. On Monday, I can't pinpoint an exact moment, yet my happiness seemed to fade away and I was met with intense sadness. I felt guilty because my inability to socialise had made someone's experience in halls less exciting than she would've liked. We have a group chat on Facebook and as I was reading their conversations, I felt sad because I know I could tell myself 'you can do this, what's the worst that could happen, fake til you make it' etc etc, knowing deep down that the actual reality of it would be painful for me. There's a reason why I fear Halloween - I'm anxious and that's never going to change and since the world can't, I have to swallow the fear; but that usually ends up with me swallowing alcohol hoping it will help. I don't know why this little thing sparked something, but I felt useless. As did texting my 'sex god'; I usually text him to perk myself up, but it didn't - I simply couldn't do it, drunk or sober.

Then the loneliness kicked in. Ha, I say kicked in as if it left - it never did. I used to think I was homesick; there isn't an exact time frame on when this will start, or how long it will last, but I believed it had to be this - I had just moved out of my family home and moved away from my loved ones. Now we come onto yesterday. I had the day off and it was full of it's ups and downs, but the evening is when I heard the silence again. It dawned on me that I hadn't spoken to a human being all day; that no one here texts me and that I don't have anyone to lean on here. It isn't homesickness anymore; I am lonely. My room is filled with silence, which I try to replace with the brilliantly depressing songs of Hollywood Undead and/or Nine Inch Nails. Sometimes their voices will be the only voices I hear in a day. I went for a walk and I'll admit, this was the most dangerous walk I had taken. I had no phone. Just NIN. And keys, obviously. It was dark out there and I had no set route on where I would go, nor how long I would be, because I knew no one would know, nor care about my absence here. I go for long night walks to cry, folks, I cry when the stars are shining just to feel like I'm not entirely alone. The stars comfort me because apparently we're made out of those magical fuckers and that makes me feel like I'm not entirely alone - I'm the same as others...

...I'm not though. Onto this morning and well, most days. On Monday, I put on some red lipstick and made myself look sexy. I thought I looked good, but evidently I'm alone in this thought and I am a shit, worthless ugly human being because I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't. No one thinks I'm pretty when I'm wearing no make up, the same when I am. No one thinks I'm pretty when I'm smiling out of sheer happiness, the same for when I'm pouting sensually. I say no one because this is what it feels like. I seek the approval of strangers, as well as the approval of men, because my friends and family have to say nice things. The rest are the truth and I'm stuck in a world full of strangers and I want to know where I fit in this world. It's not a good place. You see, I changed my Facebook profile picture last night, the same time as my friend. She got 11 likes by morning, I got 2 - her and my sister. People call her pretty and I got 'smexy' from my friend. Not even a real word, probably just a reference to a joke, so the comment isn't even real. The 'sex god' will probably like her picture and that will send me further down the pit I'm in because why don't get the same back? Does he not respect me for saying I'd have sex with him again? Or is it because I've not sold my soul to him via a nude picture that will surely change the way people look at me? But I only get likes if I talk about mental health, yet why don't people like me for anything else? Does no one actually think I look nice, I just say nice things? Is this why I'm single? Because I'm unattractive? Or is it my flaws? The flaw of sheer hatred towards oneself because I'm not told that I'm beautiful, or that I'm pretty, or that I'm smart. Friends and family do this because that's what they do, but that's not enough. I want to be told I'm fucking beautiful by someone I don't even talk to just so I feel accepted in this world. That you approve of my existence. That I'm making impacts on people's lives. I want to feel like I'm part of something. You see, words can really change someone's day: a nice 'have a good day' can make someone have a good day. A simple smile can make someone smile for the rest of the day. Tell me please why it's all gone wrong.

My title is apt - YOU hurt me more than the razor blade because once the initial sting simmers down, I'm left with the pain you cause me. The pain that doesn't ever vanish. The pain that can easily last a lifetime. A pain I can't take away.

Toodles :)

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