extroverted introvert

just keep telling yourself that you have to stop.

but what exactly?

the constant debate in my head is which move do i make?

do i stop caring or stop trying or stop loving? or is the manner in which i’m caring or trying or loving not enough or wrong in some way?

i feel like i’m desperate, but for what?

desperate for someone to love?

desperate for someone to love me?

or am i actually so in love with the actual exact someone, the someone that is causing my mind and heart to have this constant and persistent and seemingly endless battle, for him to just reciprocate the feelings he claims to have?

maybe i’m desperate for it all to actually end.

i just refuse to admit that to myself because i don’t want to give up.

i see too much of myself in this person, almost as if i whole heartedly can relate to why he acts the way he does. but i haven’t become cruel, and i don’t think he is, but he, at times, wants to appear to be.

not necessarily to hurt me, but to give himself a flaw.

he has no justifiable reason, nothing has been reason enough, for why he has been deserted, just as i have been as well.

has his cruelty made me cruel as well?

enough so that i just believe that his cruelty is also the training i need to become cold?

do i believe this is an earned punishment for being less of a person?

is this all just justification for my past, and i’m subconsciously and selfishly creating all of it?

or are we just so in love that we can’t show one another that we are in love?

like we want be exactly who those that have left us have been?

relentlessly unloving.

intensely and immensely cruel.

are we just protecting ourselves so hard in preparation for each others exit, that we have become blind to the fact that neither of us wants to walk away?

i know deep down that the amount of love i have for this someone and just the amount of love i have inside of me to offer is immeasurable.

so why has it never been enough for someone to just stick around?

everyone always leaves.

so why can’t i?

why can’t i just love myself enough to walk away?

or love him enough to show that i don’t want to walk away?

am i just blind to the fact that he doesn’t love me at all?

do i just know that they’re all right?

i’m not enough.

or i’m everything.

no one will ever know.

i’m ready to walk away.

i’m ready to walk away the same way everyone else has.

i'm walking away ...

from me.

now please,

how do you numb being numb?

is it weird that i can feel it? like i thought numb was supposed to be the absence of feeling,

but it is all i feel. i feel it deeply, almost as if i have allowed it to engulf me.

i hate it when people say that they were not themselves, especially when claiming to be numb. who else were you?

it was still your hands, your mouth, your existence, that was you and you alone.

being numb doesn’t mean being mentally “out of body.” it is still you, just you numb.

i need to accept that it has always been me.

i have always been myself, whether numb or not.

in every smart, stupid, thoughtful, thoughtless, relentless, reckless, driven, lost action these 4 limbs and cold torso have taken, that was me and it was me consciously.

being numb is still being aware.

being numb is also not a justifiable excuse for behavior that was clearly conscious.

i was consciously numb and i regret my behavior.

what is it to regret?

isn’t it just an undefined waste of a thought?

everyone keeps telling me stop dwelling on my past, but i do so because i have no emotion to label my past at this point, just a lot of regret.

my past is what i’m living,

if i’m dwelling on my past and what i’m doing now is my present, aren’t i just living a past presently?

that entire thought just made my heart hurt. and my head. that thought feels like a waste, as do i.

my regret is the abysmal sea of unfocused thoughts and emotions and clarity and chaos i have allowed my mind to become.

it is an enveloping riot of numbness.

but how can a riot be numb?

because numb does not mean motionless.

numb is not emotionless. it is a chaos of every emotion culminating in a constant and persistent chaos which becomes an undefined numb.

what’s the point? when i make an honest effort, or what i think is one, i’m accused of conspiring to be what i’m trying to be above, and in turn am treated below.

so that’s where i go now, as i believe i will always stay.

below.

below has become painfully and yet comfortably familiar.

i don’t think that my brain has yet consciously accepted that this disdained mental state may just be my eternal existence.

i think more so because my fear is that the eternal part is actually fully and physically realistic.

like, what if my current life is just some solemn precursor to the inevitable revolving door of horrible memories relived in an alternate dimension that is equally void of any glimmer of hope because it too has been engulfed with abysmal darkness?

is this my reality, or is the other my true evolution?

or is nothing actually real at all and this is philosophical or holographic purgatory?

is it even possible for hell to be darker than life?

I've been slacking on my communication skills.

and before you rant on how I rattle on and can't seem to stay quiet, that's not what I mean at all.

I'm like "filling the silence" for lack of better terms.

I babble to avoid reality, and the consequences of my previous word vomit are coming to rear their ugly head.

not so much in a context inclusive to me ever just saying something nonsensical to the current situation ambiguously motivated to simply hear myself (I have). but moreover because now, no one is willing to listen.

i’ve come to this absolute pinnacle of despair or disillusion, but it wears down on me. a personification which masquerades itself as this lengthy moment of clarity, while simultaneously existing almost parallel to the illusion that is a tunnel ascending when it is actually grading down to a dark fault.

it’s caused my mind to become erratic, because i’m moving in one direction while my perception is that i am going in another. and it’s left my thoughts in absolute chaos.

my lack of control of my emotions has, at this point, been climax to some seriously eccentric outbursts and breakdowns.

so now i stay timid out of fear and not control.

fear of losing the things i love so much that i fought vigilantly to prove my love for, only to be left feeling everything too much again.

and again, unable to talk.

all these fucking scars and bruises and physical reminders of those emotions and that which i should talk about, and yet the words that coincided with them, the harm and pain that they brought when spoken, are what are actually dragging me back to that dark place.

and still no one to talk to.

no one that will listen.

and no one with anything nice to say.

now i’m ready to let it all out of me, as it so imminently needs to for my mental state to remain somewhat inhabitable.

every word is trapped inside my throat, gaining size and strength and tenacity and fire with every breath.

I'm a ticking time bomb, and its casualty as well.

turns out sticks and stones can't break me,

i can't do it anymore.

I give up, or in or whatever I have to do to just end.

JUST END.

i don’t want to give up, but it’s also all i want to do.

i can’t stop thinking about how easy life will be for everyone around me. i’m just a nuisance these days, or these weeks, or months or years or entire life.

i’m so scared. i don’t know how to not be scared, my entire being is scared, and scarred and everything and everyone is scary. i have no other sensory receptions other than terrified. my entire world feels like a sensory deprivation chamber and all that is provided to feel and relive and survive are every single one of my worst fears, which have all already been respawned in my reality. my whole world is fear and apprehension and i know everyone who lays eyes on me sees it and feeds off it and into it and i have no control of how much they take and how many more tremors they provide my bones and my heart and my soul.

that’s how i live my life though, but for now only one of those two things, protection.

so here is the start to all of the demise of those who thought they could rule me, because i just had like this slight epiphany, protection is not enough.

i have always been the prey. and it’s even more fucked up because people who have failed in protecting me, or protecting my presence in theirs, have then tried to accuse me of treating them as prey after they visibly preyed on me.

i want to be the bad guy. i want them to know this disposable feeling i’m left with. before i dispose of them.

i want to be stronger than prey, but always appear to be. because the weaker you look, the stronger you are when it’s over.

i don’t care how that sounds to anyone else, it makes sense to me and how i should move.

i want to stay loving and accepting, but i want to also learn when to let go. and i want them to bleed like i do. the scars i carry bear the souls of those who tried to take me down, the proof is in their effectual response.

every second of my being i consume, but i only remember the useless actions in between. my brain has evolved to where the events that hurt me are blocked, but the pain they brought survives.

it doesn’t hurt anymore. you are ashes and dust and a cold breeze through my continuous stride. you’ll all always see and want what you lost.

martyr at heart while still coldly beating.

that’s who i am these days.

no one sees it though, i don’t let them. and no, i’m not sitting here claiming to be this incredible masked houdini of a person. i’ve just self employed myself as what they all need to see, or what i allow.

not because i intentionally want to build some facade that seems appealing, but more because i’m so sick of talking about it. people just always seem to ask less questions about happy things than they do about sad ones, or trauma.

i think that people really just would rather hear about someone’s indiscretions because it makes their own easier to live with. not because people intentionally want to hate on you, but more so because people seek validation in knowing someone else is or has been where they are, without them having to admit their own faults.

i used to think talking about my faults would help because then maybe someone could help me or guide me on a healthy way to overcome them. and then one day it just hit me like a ton of bricks, absolutely no one can advise me on how to deal with my own mind because absolutely no one else’s works or feels the way mine does to me.

is it like tonight or next week or ten years from now or will it just never happen?

i’m just waiting for when things get better, and i keep fighting for more punches in the face.

martyr is such a heavy word but i keep hearing it and seeing it, even in my dreams which are called that because even my nightmares seem better than my life lately.

if i deserve this like some karma tell me why, because i break hearts by loving them too much and then i get blamed when they break me even more.

it’s a lie.

i’m not okay. how can i keep pretending everything will be when i am falling apart entirely all the time?

and no one sees it because i have become so good at making myself look okay.

or what if me not being ok is just better than me not being ok most days so no one cares to check anymore because they think i can handle it or beat it or tame it or even hold it down?

what happens when it takes over and no one checks and I GIVE UP?

why am i scared to give up?

i find myself almost counting down to the next moment i can feel them like that, like the way they keep warping and the elasticity i can feel in my body every time it happens.

i don’t mean spaces like places, i mean like the way my body can feel the depth of my surroundings just where i’m standing. but it’s just not always a good feeling.

my brain is an incredibly dangerous place. it has these incredibly high and shiny and illuminated and glorifying mountains. but it also has these abyss like lows that seems like the darkest crevices of hell with no measurable depth.

i’m starting to feel removed because i don’t know how to admit when my thoughts have fallen into these dark ravines. i have always felt as if admitting my sadness and dark thoughts is more of a fake pity party than it is just a cry for help.

i’ve been doing this thing for so long where im just complacent. but it’s a bad complacent.

i’m not putting faith in myself and i need to so badly.

i lost so much because the world just isn’t the world anymore, but there is no one to blame but me. i accepted being below who i am, and that’s far, FAAAAAARRRR from who i am as a person, it’s just our current situation at the time was what we were told to do.

i’m better than that and smarter and i used to think on my feet but my toes were kicked out. i just wanna be stronger and i don’t know how but i know i will find a way.

but HOW?? when does life just reward you for all the times you didn’t give up or surrender or just throw some white towel you didn’t even know you had?

i have to make this work and i’m so scared because i don’t know how to but i have to learn quickly.

i think i’m just living in this revolving door of being let in to something good only to be pushed out by all the bad i brought out in it.

i’ve always lived by this unsaid law within myself that everything that happens is my fault whether at my own hand or someone else’s i allowed to get that close to me. but i’ve only recently actually accepted the responsibility of the consequences.

i want it to be so bad sometimes it hurts and i don’t know how i’ll do it or if i’ll even make it or if i’ll even try;

She's too much for someone who isn't ready to show up fully and check their ego at the door. She's too much for someone who would rather have small talk than go deep. She's too much if you expect her to hold back her anger or her sadness or pain to protect you from seeing her in her chaos.

But trust this: a wild woman is the safest type of woman you'll ever meet. She doesn't hold back. There are no surprises. You'll meet her and she'll let you see her for who she is. She trusts her own worthiness enough to reveal herself to you and let you decide whether or not you'd like to walk with her. She doesn't hide parts of herself in an attempt to keep your love because she doesn't have time for connections that lack depth and meaning.

you’re supposed to remember all this right? like they tell you, write it down, scribble a note or type it on some screen, because when you have these thoughts that help you to move forward or understand or just have that stupid realization that explains why you are where you are or why you are and how to do it better or fix it then you need to remember so you can follow through.

what if i don’t want to?? what if i like these moments where i create all these goals and hopes and dreams and then i know they’re bullshit, and i’m not even mad?? what if i don’t necessarily like myself entirely but i also love myself in a twisted sort of way??

i’m tired of racking my brain with ways to conform and fall in line and be and do what makes everyone else happy, because all that has done is make me miserable.

i’ve always had this way of working everything out all while waiting and believing the world will go down in flames first, so what am i stressing myself out so bad for??