Closing Time. (poisonous_vine) wrote,
Closing Time.

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My wings don't work the way yours do...

Me. Rambling. A lot.

One thing about being manic depressive is you are the most selfish self possessed/self obsessed self-hater in the world. All of our emotions revolve around ourselves. How such-and-such makes me feel, how other peoples words and actions apply to and affect us. We hate ourselves for this, but we can't really stop ourselves from taking everything so personally. Everything is internalized. Passive-aggressive anger. The world revolves around us, and we hate ourselves for thinking like that. So we get angry at something, and suddenly it's all "You hate me", "You think I'm worthless", "I feel terrible". We do things to hurt ourselves in some way or another. Whether it's shutting ourselves off from the rest of the world for a while or self mutilation or just being a complete dick to everyone who cares about us is some pathetic attempt to save them from us.. if that makes any sense. We know that the things we do to hurt ourselves in turn hurt those that love us, but we can't allow ourselves to care about that. That puts a little too much pressure on us.

So, all that nonsense so I can get to this. My sister called a few days ago. Said some things that really hurt me. So since then (Saturday) I've been hiding. I won't talk to anyone. I won't write. I won't answer emails or the telephone. I've slept for pretty much the last two days straight. I won't get out of bed. Why? Because I feel like everything I do is completely pointless because I'll never be good enough to make anyone happy. I'll never be anything more than a complete waste of space and I should just throw myself out the window right now and put myself and everyone else out of our respective misery. I don't, because I know I might as well put a gun to my mother's head and pull the trigger because that's what she would do if I killed myself. I don't because I'm just too fucking dramatic to do something as stupid as that, besides I'm still a little too heavy and I'd look fat in my coffin. (Pathetic attempt at humour there.) I'm also afraid I would fuck it up, end up being some brainless drooling lump of waste completely dependant on others.. well.. worse than I am now.

Fuck that.

So I sit here and I get all depressed and cranky and crying all. the. time. until I snap out of it and move on and back away from the edge and can breathe again. But fucking hell it's taking longer and longer to step back and not want to jump off.

The only living being that has heard me speak since Saturday is my doggie. That's so fucking pathetic.. heh. Every time I try to make words happen I can't think of anything to say to anyone. (Can't tell by all this blathering can ya?)

I like this song. I've also discovered that there is apparently something 'dirty' about used coffee grounds. No one wants to touch them. If you want to throw something away and ensure that it stays thrown away, dump some used coffee grounds on top of it. No one will touch it after that.

I think I'm done typing for now.

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