Rock Bottom

I pulled an all-nighter working on a queer linguistics project that I really should have been working on all semester. It's a shame that I hadn't started sooner because it's pretty interesting shit.

I came to the realization last night, after sitting on my front porch in the early hours of the morning and crying to myself yet again, that I am indeed as profoundly depressed as I never wanted to admit. I wanted to run back home. I just wanted everything and everyone to stop, and that was the closest alternative to the last remaining unforgivable action in my mind. That doesn't mean I didn't look up how much I needed to take in order to do it and sit there staring at it for hours.

It's hard to describe when you're not in the middle of it. You just get tired of getting up in the morning. You can't feel anything but pain, and all the good things in your life are irrelevant because the pain won't let you feel anything else.

I've been going through the motions and feel like I just don't want anything anymore. I've lost everything. And somehow things and people still find ways to hurt me. I know it isn't true, but I feel like I have nothing. And I don't want anything. I just want it all to stop. I haven't been okay since October or November, really. But it's only been getting worse in the last few weeks.

I can't be anything other than what I am. For better or worse. I knew more of what that meant for me last night than I do right now.

It's finally beaten me. I hit the lowest point of my entire life last night. And nothing really even happened. I guess everything finally hit me. I think in the moments when I finally decide to stop letting people and things hurt me, that's when the real pain begins. Sometimes I want to be numb again.

I'm going to get help. But so much of me doesn't care or think it will matter. So much of me believes that I've never really been okay at any point in my life and that isn't about to change any time soon.

I always feel so alone. But maybe I always have.
I'm not sure anymore.

I'm scared.

Big Boy Shoes

I'm too pissed for poetry today. But it's an interesting kind of pissed, and since I can't fall asleep and can hear those annoying-ass birds out there already, I might as well do something productive.
I'm not generally very good with relationships because I tend to be an overly trusting person. While I do have the ability to read other people pretty well, sometimes an aura created by good intentions is enough to mask a rather large number of not-so-good actions. That...and the fact that my own emotions sometimes get in the way, but that's pretty much true of anyone who wants to believe in the power of love and friendship and all of that bullshit. I set myself up for terrible things to happen. I get caught in emotionally abusive relationships of varying sorts because I always believe that the other person is really good at heart and has the best intentions in mind, etc. But I'm learning that this does not excuse certain behaviors. I'm learning that I may be wrong about these intentions in the first place. And, most painfully, I am learning that unless I walk away, I will continue to be hurt by those who believe they can say or do anything at all because they just know I'll come running back for more.
The door had been open for a long time. And then all of my shit was stolen. And then smashed up. And then my house was set on fire. And then you pissed on the ashes. When I rebuild, the cycle repeats. This time, I'll learn to lock the door.
I've been such a nice person all this time. But nice makes you vulnerable. Even so, I have never let these experiences of being hurt prevent me from being nice. People have always taken advantage of my extraordinarily high levels of patience and generosity, and I had until now believed that it was better to continue being a nice person. That's what it means, right? You don't ask for anything in return, and even when you get trampled, you still give your all to those around you. But giving your all doesn't work in the long run because you just end up losing yourself. And now it's time that I take myself back.
You know, I used to be such a nice boy...
I see no reason to be nice anymore. No reason to try anymore. No reason to hide how I feel at all, really. My feelings have never been spared. I have been publicly humiliated, undermined, debased. I've been cornered and threatened and coerced and manipulated. And when I cried, it was never for myself. This is what happens when you push and push and keep pushing. Something's got to give, honey. We've discovered my breaking point. And I'm only worried about how this will affect broader things, not my personal life. I'm better off without this in my personal life, if you really must know.
Parasitic? No. Infectious.
People can die before they've stopped breathing, before their hearts have stopped beating.