This post has another stupid lyric as a title. But I cannot get this song out of my ears and it’s almost appropriate so screw originality.
I’ve had a weird few days. Too many substances going up my nose, too many alcohols, too much into my lungs, too many people, all a big mess. It’s all a little manic right now. But that obviously comes at a cost. Today is a low day. The light of day creates a lot of low days. Today, I woke up crawling with shame and disgust all over me like a rash. I scrubbed so much to make me feel fresh, but raw skin from too much exfoliation doesn’t tackle the dirt on the inside. I want to claw it out of me because I can genuinely feel it. No point though because you can’t find a metaphorical feeling. I hate my brain sometimes. Quite often actually.
I realise a lot of the people around me have no real idea of what my mind is doing the majority of the time. It’s like there are two layers of person. On the outside, I try to act the same way that other people do. I try to cover up the things going on inside. I’m always trying to style out the ways I’m feeling. I just try to imitate the correct way to act and feel, whilst trying really hard to cover up what I feel. It tends to mean that quite a lot, I’m really busy trying to convince the world that I’m the complete opposite of what I am. I get so lost because it’s like no one knows me at all. No one knows anything really. I don’t either.
I had a really hard therapy the other day. I tried to be honest to him. I fucked up a bit because sometimes, the easiest way to be honest is to lie because it explains your feelings better. I try so hard no to lie, but sometimes it feels like truth because it’s completely how I feel. Anyway, the lies aren’t all that important. That’s more of a side note. I was talking to him about how I have to not care about things. I do care about them, but I have to pretend I don’t. I’m not allowed to give a fuck about anyone or anything. Like with people – I have to actively pretend that I adamantly don’t care about them or their opinions of me and I think they’re a bit of a dick so I can’t be bothered. That is hardly ever true though. I just tend to think that they hate me and it hurts me that they do and thoughts about it can be so consuming. No one can know I care though, so I tell everyone I can’t be fucked. Chances are, this shoots me in the foot because it’ll get back to the person I think hates me, making them more likely to hate me. It’s a vicious circle. It takes someone really being outrageously nice to me for me to start to actually, obviously care about them. Then I’m the most obviously in love person ever. I’m a little bit in love with basically all my friends. Unless they’ve upset me and I’m ignoring them because I hate them because they’ve done something which makes me think they’re laughing at me or hate me or know something I want hidden.
It’s not just with people though. It’s with everything. Sometimes I let slip an idea or opinion or fact that I’m not sure can be backed up by the people around me. I then freak out because I got it all wrong, then try back track and get myself on solid ground again. I like to make sure people like me, so I’m good at mimicking beliefs and interests. I learnt a long time ago that it’s not ok to like certain things. The problem is, people like all different things. Some people like baking, but others think it’s really boring and pointless. All this means is that you have to then be great at baking. Nothing short of brilliant is enough. You also have to hate it with a passion. Bad example, but you get what I mean. Sometimes parts get all muddled then you let slip to the wrong person that you hold this belief and they think you’re then too trivial/too serious/lame/annoying/a joke/whatever. It’s all a game of getting people on side. I fail at it more than I win. The more you know someone, the easier it gets to mimic the right responses to get the right outcomes. You can even disagree sometimes if you know someone well enough and know you have the right argument to back yourself up in that situation in a way they’ll find acceptable. It’s exhausting
All this leaves you with though is a complete lack of identity. No one knows what I like, what I care about, what I think. A lot of the time I don’t either. What I can’t work out though is why I’m not allowed to care about anything. The Psychologist asked me why and all I responded with was “because then everyone will think I’m a loser and laugh at me.” I’ve lost out on some really good things because I was so convinced that people would think I was a loser if I let anyone know I cared about it, so I just had to pretend that I really have no emotional attachment to anything. I hate it. I hate it because I have to be silently obsessed with the things that take up my entire brain. I have to watch myself lose out on what I want so that I’m not vulnerable to the ridicule I’d open myself up for if I care. So I pretend.
It’s old news that I’m pretty convinced I’m entirely pretend though. I just don’t know what the right emotional responses are, so I have a default act of not giving a fuck about anything. I have no idea why I believe this, but I do. I don’t know why anything that I actually think is such a fucking useless joke, I have to hide it. I may overshare about my life, but I hide myself.
I was so fucking gutted when I actually worked out that this is something I do. I’d never thought about it before, I just did it. Instinct. It’s not conscious. And it sucks. I just so badly don’t want to be laughed at for getting my thoughts and feelings wrong. I don’t want to be a joke.
What I do want though is to be looked after. I have to be as perfect as possible for every single person so that eventually, someone will find me and they’ll look after me right and I won’t feel like my insides are burning anymore and I won’t feel so empty. I don’t know why I need it. I just need something to fill this gap and all I can think that could be is other people. No one does fill the gap though. I don’t know what more I need. I just need to be validated as something good. I sometimes catch glimpses of it, but there isn’t anyone that makes me feel anything but dirt in the long-term. Obviously I’m failing miserably at being perfect for every single person. Perfect daughter, perfect friend, perfect date, perfect whatever. If I was better, then everyone would like me more and then someone would be able to give me what ever it is I desperately need. There’s something I need, I just don’t know what it is.
So instead, I wonder why I always end up feeling horrible and alone. Everything I do to try to make it better only ends up hurting me in the long run. I have to do something to fill whatever it is that I cannot handle, so in my efforts to work it all out, I fail miserably at constructing the right sort of person and engage in physically and psychologically self-damaging acts to feel better until someone finally sees me and understands. It doesn’t help that I tend to get obsessed with the worst people. I wish just once it could be a good one. I wish someone was happy with just me so that I didn’t have to prentend. Just me doesn’t exist though. All I have is the constructions.
I feel disgusting. Passing out to handle the lows you’ll stoop to in order to just be liked and cared is probably a sign you shouldn’t do it anymore. I do it anyway though. Then hate myself. At least I’ve successfully created the idea I want to portray. After all, I’m nothing but concepts and images of what I think might be what other people want. Maybe one day, the ideas will be enough and someone will at least look after the constructed me enough to keep me safe. I honestly don’t know what’s inside so I guess that’s the only option.
Why am I not allow to care about anything? Why do I have to hide anything that matters? Why will I do almost anything in order to try get proof I’m worth anything? None of this is me, but I have no idea who I am. All I know about me is that I’m a 23-year-old woman living the life of a 16-year-old, taking sick leave from university, on benefits, no real prospects, nowhere to fit in, nothing to go on really. I’m seriously beginning to doubt there’ll ever be a place for me. It’s not like there’s anything about me that’d make someone want to stay long enough to mean I don’t have to look anymore.
God this is all so cryptic. Sorry. It’s just a really bad day.
My insides crawl.