November 8, 2019
I am tired of feeling this way. There are short instances when I feel normal and happy again, giving myself the false hope of returning to the way I used to be.
It is challenging to smile or laugh unless I am with Josh. He has a way of comforting me with ease on days I did not think it was even possible to smile.
November 8, 2019. Still, I feel like my unhappiness is a burden I have put on him that he does not wish to carry.
I understand, I am not an easy person to deal with when I am this way; I do not answer when he asks how I am doing, or even meet his eyes.
I just lay there with my eyes set on the wall, only moving to reach for a Kleenex or wipe my constant flow of tears.
For this reason, I crave his attention so badly and when it is refused the pain in my chest grows almost unbearably.
Why can't I be happy on my own? Perhaps because he tells me things that I try to convince myself, like how I am smart, and kind, and beautiful. When he says this things, however, I feel nothing.
The compliments and reassurance goes straight over my head refuses to remain with me. I wish I could believe him.
During these days, weeks, or even months of unhappiness I long for the days when I was (mostly) happy.
To be honest, those days seem further away than ever and I have a hard time remembering when the last time I was happy for two consecutive months.
Now, I have a cloud constantly looming over my head, following me where ever I go threatening to pour which every inconvenience.
It gets worse when my period starts, sometimes when I am done the sadness leaves with it. Other times, it stays with me until the next and the next and the next...
I am a part of that cycle now, with the pain never leaving.
I do now know which is worse, the empty feeling which lingers deep inside of me or the crushing pain that rapes my body until there nothing to do but lay in bed protected by the covers.
My bed is my safe haven. There, I am shielded from the cruelty of the outside world. No one is mad, or disappointed in me there, I feel safe, shielded from judgment.
That is until someone tries to make there way in, then I must pretend to be sick or tired to escape the stares from my mother or judgement of my father.
I shrug and say that I am fine when in reality it feels like my brain is being ripped apart.
In my mind, there is a constant battle between myself and the voice that hates me.
Battle, I suppose is not the right word since I mostly give up and just take the beating, agreeing with her cruel words. She sees all of my mistakes and hears of my idiotic thoughts.
She is always there to remind me to hate myself. She gives me no reward for my hard work and only criticizes what could have been done better.
There is no use trying to fight her, never mind get rid of her. I am burdened with the memory of my first therapist telling me that I will never get better.
Out of all of the things she told me, that is the one that sticks out so much. She said she could not help me feel better.
I am scared that I will stay like this forever; Being trapped like a prisoner in my own mind. I walk through this world, masking my emotions.
I am tired of wearing a mask.
I am tired of being alone.
I am tired of feeling like this.
Now, I am scared to stop typing. I know the moment I put the keyboard down the tears will begin to flow for who knows how long.
However, I know I must go and suffer through another day alone and tired.