My Good Intentions Will Not Negate The Collateral Damage I’m Causing

thinking a lot about the personal strengths test i took for my student success course last year. my top 5 were, in order, Love, Appreciation of Beauty and Excellence, Humor, Social Intelligence, and Kindness.

i am literally programmed for human connection, to love people and to hurt and to laugh and grieve and live.

i don’t think anything hits me harder than knowing that i am someone’s safe space, even if not their only one, even if not the one they go to for everything, even if they can just feel a little more at ease when i’m around.

i want to be a place where they can stop holding their their breath, where they can put the mask in their back pocket for a little bit. i want them to feel comfortable enough to exhale around me, whether that means sharing their own experiences to empathize with me or being a little strange or laughing obnoxiously or not filtering what they say when they tell a story or crying for no reason or even just sitting in silence for a little bit without trying to force small talk.

this isn’t my prettiest or most concise rambling i’ve done recently, more of just an unfinished train of thought

i don’t know how to wrap this up but i’ve legitimately just been thinking today. i don’t know that i quite articulated well how important this is to me, but it is. that’s all i can really say i guess

i feel fucking sick

if i were left to my own devices, if i were alone, i would self destruct. but i’m not so i’m looking for other people to do shitty things with me so i can justify it. so i don’t feel so guilty or maybe just so i don’t feel so alone

i can’t drag the people i love into my shit, that’s not fair. they’re trying to get better. i’m such a sick fucking person for thinking about it

i think i’m infatuated with my best friend and my best friend isn’t my partner and my partner isn’t my best friend

i’m so fucking messy

Dandelions

i’m afraid of my death

not because i’m afraid of dying,

but because i’m afraid of what will be unearthed about me

i’m worried that my belongings, my journals, writings, drawings, will be known

i’ve worked so hard to curate this perception of myself, i’ve worked so hard to be someone that causes little friction, few waves, minimizes collateral

i don’t want my sins and dark thoughts to tarnish what i’ve built

i don’t want anyone hurting any further

my chest hurts!!! why am i like this!!! can’t be normal about making mistakes!!! have to beat myself into the ground!!! have to be punished!!! have to be 3x meaner to myself to make up for it!! yep because that’s productive!!

it should’ve just ended with my attempt

i should’ve stopped feeling like this, i should’ve left that hospital better

but i’m not

so please be done with me

it’s been years, i’m exhausted

just give up on me please because gods knows i’d fucking kill for that opportunity

wash your hands of it and move on

i’m dying

slowly, but always

and i miss a lot of things

all the time, really

and i worry of course

about everything, always

i’m sick

fed up, lovesick, homesick, brain-sick, twisted

if i were livestock, i’d have been taken to the yard by now i would think

if i were livestock, i’d feel less alone i would think

sometimes i wish i was ill in a way that i could purge, or in a way that would purge me

i was there for five hours, brought dinner home, and when i got back, he’d moved furniture again and i immediately had an emotional response. then he asked if i’d look at what he’d been up to and i obliged, trying to hide that i was upset.

he had set up a small desk area for me in his space- something i’d planned to do myself, but hadn’t had the chance

that’s what he’d been working on

and i’d been spent my time away talking about our issues

i wasn’t saying anything untrue or inaccurate to how i felt, but i feel terrible for talking about him so negatively while he was at home making a space just for me

it doesn’t negate our problems, but it’s a reminder of how much he does love me contrasted with the way i talk about him and that really hurts

the timing is a little conveniently inconvenient. sometimes i wonder if her just knows

i don’t hate him, i don’t even dislike him. i love him with everything i have, but it’s so hard

his dismissal of my emotions, his neglect of his own, his complacency, unwillingness to grow is putting me in a position. the barrier there is between us is apparent to not just me

and i know he has his own side of the story and i would love to hear it

but he won’t talk to me

and that’s where we’re at. a standstill.

he said once he figures out his schedule, and gets his insurance figured out, he’ll try therapy

a year. i’m going to try and give it a year