The second day in a row, the third day this week I'm at the brink of tears.
I want... (in the order of coming to mind):
someone...
to love.
to love me.
to hold my hand.
to understand.
to be supportive.
to kiss me.
to make love to me.
to go to cinema with.
to go out dancing.
to hug.
to cuddle with.
to warm my hands in the winter.
to take a vacation with.
won't just anyone please love me?
I feel so desperate. Yet not desperate enough.
And lonely. Yet I distance myself from others.
And angry. But I do not express it.
Afraid.
Oh so afraid. Of everything. Of the people on the tram that might touch me. Of the people on the streets that might say something rude to me. Of someone in my college thinking of me as stupid. Of being stupid. Of being lazy. Of being unable to move, unable to get better. Unable to be loved?
Afraid of ending up alone? I don't know. Lately I've been thinking a lot, if this is how I might live my whole life. There are good days when I feel it's possible. When I enjoy doing some work, reading, watching a movie and I can imagine myself doing that for the rest of my life. With the possible exception of getting a real dog, not just the virtual ones on facebook. But then there are nights like this one, when I know that it's not gonna get better on it's own. When I know that I'm spending more and more nights crying and trying to calm myself enough to fall asleep. When I know that it's too much pain to bear, and when I sense that if I maintain this state of whatever-it's-called I will reach my limit someday and then... well. I'm afraid of that too. What if I get myself so reason-less, so desperate, in so much pain I might actually come to think death is the way out? What if I get there and I don't see it in time? And I don't get help in time?
And yet, everytime I decide to do just that, there is always something to put me off. How can I go to therapy now, I have to study. Or I have so much work to do, I'll just get more vulnerable. What if they laugh at me? What if they don't take me serious? Or worse,
what if they can't help me?
I want... (in the order of coming to mind):
someone...
to love.
to love me.
to hold my hand.
to understand.
to be supportive.
to kiss me.
to make love to me.
to go to cinema with.
to go out dancing.
to hug.
to cuddle with.
to warm my hands in the winter.
to take a vacation with.
won't just anyone please love me?
I feel so desperate. Yet not desperate enough.
And lonely. Yet I distance myself from others.
And angry. But I do not express it.
Afraid.
Oh so afraid. Of everything. Of the people on the tram that might touch me. Of the people on the streets that might say something rude to me. Of someone in my college thinking of me as stupid. Of being stupid. Of being lazy. Of being unable to move, unable to get better. Unable to be loved?
Afraid of ending up alone? I don't know. Lately I've been thinking a lot, if this is how I might live my whole life. There are good days when I feel it's possible. When I enjoy doing some work, reading, watching a movie and I can imagine myself doing that for the rest of my life. With the possible exception of getting a real dog, not just the virtual ones on facebook. But then there are nights like this one, when I know that it's not gonna get better on it's own. When I know that I'm spending more and more nights crying and trying to calm myself enough to fall asleep. When I know that it's too much pain to bear, and when I sense that if I maintain this state of whatever-it's-called I will reach my limit someday and then... well. I'm afraid of that too. What if I get myself so reason-less, so desperate, in so much pain I might actually come to think death is the way out? What if I get there and I don't see it in time? And I don't get help in time?
And yet, everytime I decide to do just that, there is always something to put me off. How can I go to therapy now, I have to study. Or I have so much work to do, I'll just get more vulnerable. What if they laugh at me? What if they don't take me serious? Or worse,
what if they can't help me?