If it weren’t so heart wrenching, it would almost be amusing how many times one can be convinced that they’re “over it, this time”, when in actual fact the mind is incapable of erasing memories and feelings. They sit, stewing, in some sort of hibernation mode, waiting for you to slip up. Waiting for your moment of weakness or morbid curiosity. Waiting, silent but deadly, ready to gut you like a fish.
Feel a bit stupid if I’m honest.
Or at least I might as well be.
Cat help but feel fucking useless, realistically know it’s mostly down to be exhausted, but sooner or later I’m gonna have to admit defeat. Tell myself I can do this, because I need to, because it’s my duty as a member of this family. But in recent years I’ve lost the ability to cope. It’s funny how much I’ve told myself that nothing had really changed, except my newfound propensity towards seizures. But 30 months down the line (fuck, it’s been ages!) I can hardly ignore my ever decreasing cognitive abilities, and I’m not really sure what I’ve got left after I lose them. Aware I’m being overdramatic and I probably just need a good rest, but I don’t know how much more of myself I can take. I can blame any aspect of my being, try and put a clinical label on why I’m so consistently unstable, but realistically I just need to get a fucking grip. (Not sure where that strength is meant to come from mind)
I’m my own worst enemy.
Doubt any of that made any sense, doubt anyone gets this far anyway. Seem to have run out of places to just let my thoughts slip out, but needed to get things off my chest if I plan on getting any sleep tonight.
Nothing more than a chemical induced fantasy, that’s what I’ll always be.
Not sure how much more of this I can take.
She said you should always dress as if you’re going to see your worst enemy; what exactly is the protocol for seeing someone who still, after all these years, makes your heart sink? You hadn’t quite planned for the prospect of being in a room with him again ever in a million years… Let alone speaking to him in the one place where you thought you’d never have to bump into anyone from ‘before’ again. It wasn’t ever really a ‘thing’, it never is. Why were you so nervous? Why the hell are you still playing it over and over again in your head? You know you’re being overdramatic, but you moved here with the vain hope of escaping everyone and everything. Luckily for anyone that may come across this, I’ve lost my trail of thought. Guess that’s the end of that then. If only it were actually that simple.
Come on just say it, you need me like a bad habit.
One that leaves you defenseless, dependent, and alone…
Are you afraid to say what you want to? Tell me you want to.
Taking Back Sunday, “One Eighty by Summer”