Fuck I hate this. I hate being this fucking mental person who looks so damn ordinary on the outsite. Bev, you're so funny. I think at least three people said this to me today. Bev, always smiling, always happy. Bev, the ray of sunshine.
I was standing in the bathroom this morning, crying my eyes out while I was brushing my teeth and trying to figure out how the hell I could make it through another day... and I started thinking that I could make it look like an accident. All of these years I have been on this planet because I would never hurt someone so much as to think that they could have helped me and just didn't do enough... because that is obviously not the case. No one can save me... maybe not even me. So if it was an accident, sure they would miss me and sure they would cry but it wouldn't ruin anyone's life. And what would it matter, anyway? I've touched people's lives, I've made a difference but I don't have kids, I don't have family that doesn't have other family... I could just be someone people once knew.
But, of course, I won't. I will sit here and suffer. I wish I could stop this hurt. God, if only something were wrong! But nothing is wrong. My life is exactly how I always wanted it to be. That is so sad.
How did I get here again? Why can't I make it stop? Seriously... what the fuck do I have to do? I don't want to know anymore. Knowing hurts so much more than not knowing. I used to have something/someone to blame it on... and now it's only me. I think that I don't like knowing also because now I know that I can't get away from it. I can't move and everything will be wonderful. I can't get a new job/boyfriend/girlfriend/car/life... it follows me where ever I go - and I can't FUCKING make it stop.
I don't want anyone else to know anymore, either. I hate talking about it so matter-of-fact now. They nod as if they understand... I know they try, I know they care, I know they love me but it doesn't help. It doesn't stop it. At this moment I can only see one way of making it stop and that will never happen. So I have to struggle through. But I'm really starting to not want to. I'm hopeless and I don't know where to turn.
And so I'm this bitch. I'm driving Ian crazy, I know. Nothing he does is good enough. I swing and I swing and he either gets the fun me or the cold shoulder or a smart ass remark and I'm sure that, moment to moment, he has no idea what is coming next. It struck me the other day that living with him makes this real. When I was alone I could have my little fit or burst into tears and no one knew, no one got hurt, no one had any idea how much of a freak I am. And if no one knows that means it didn't happen. And if it didn't happen then I wasn't a mental case... just funny Bev.
When I was alone I didn't have anyone to answer to, either, and, good or bad as it might be to say this, it was easier to be alone. If I needed to sit and be a zombie, I just did. I once bawled my face off on my closet floor for hours and hours and it didn't matter because no one knew. If I needed to be alone, I was alone. If I needed to be near someone I called a friend or went to a movie. I was in total control; I didn't have to share my feelings, I didn't have to worry about hurting someone else's feelings, I didn't have to get even more upset when I was trying to share my feelings and couldn't communicate it in a way that was understood. I didn't have to worry about anything but me and making it through the day.
Now I work too much and he's lonely, I'm on the computer and he's jealous, I don't feel like eating and he's frustrated, I eat too much and he's preaching, I don't want to go for a walk and he's pissed off, I want to be alone and he's hurt. And he's such a great guy, such a good person... it just makes it worse because now I have the tears and self-hatred and the struggle to cope with the simplest thing and I get a good dose of guilt mixed in.
So what do I do? Who can help me? I honestly don't think that talking to a professional will make any difference. Yeah, I need to eat better and get more exercise. Stop the fucking pot obviously. But I really can't remember... did I swing back and forth so much when I was on my own? Is that the answer? Ah... boo fuckin' hoo. Christ. JUST STOP ALREADY. Please, just stop.
I don't want this anymore. I don't want to go home. I don't want to work. I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to think about it. I don't want anything anymore except to make it stop.
