Any day is a good day for new things, right?
i'm already stuck. I wanted to come here, to write something meaningful or introspective. maybe by writing out all the thinks that i am thinking and feeling, i can see it from the outside, and make it make sense.
I'm so lonely. I don't have a reason to be, I think. I think i have friends. close ones, not just aquaintencces. I think i'm ok at my job. not the best, not the worst. i try to be a good person, in general, i tip well, say please and thank you. hold doors. listen to people when they talk.
but i don't know that they like me. i spend every day waiting to hear some comment about how i make people uncomfortable. and they don't want to spend time with me. things like i'm creepy or annoying or weird. i don't want to be. i don't mean to be.
sally keeps telling me that it's because my mind finds it easier to cope with me doing something wrong to deserve the shit that happened to me, than to cope with the fact that i was powerless the whole time.
i still feel powerless.
I have a near endless list of things that i hate about myself. physical, mental, emotional, spiritual. every aspect of who i am is completely flawed. I could write the things i hate about myself for hours.
but i would sit blankly for hours trying to come up with good things about myself.
theres nothing i can do better than others. theres no skill that i have that makes me useful or helpful. theres no art that i can do that is beautiful to admire or enjoy. the only thing i can do is care about people, and fuck all if i know how to do that right either.
i picked the name ghostgirl when i was 9 years old. right before i moved. it was somewhat of a self fulfilling name. I always felt like people forgot about me, or didn't care if i was involved or not. I gave my shiney new email address to my friends at school so that they could keep up with me after I moved.
they didn't. and i didn't exactly make new friends either.
so what makes a person have value? I would like to believe that simply because someone is alive, they deserve respect and kindness. after all, we are a social species, meant to coexist in groups that support one another. But i also hate that thought. if i believed that, then trump is as worth of respect as the love of my life, and god knows that's not true. is there some base requirement? some kindness you must demonstrate?
if i die would people remember me well? or fondly? would people speak of me in my death kinder than they have in my life, and point out things i do right?
I listen to fucking everyone. and I CARE about it. i remember it! i check in with you! i try to comfort you or distract you, or make you laugh. and you still don't fucking see me.
sally warns me not to hang out with people that seem like they need to be rescued, because they can often be toxic. But I feel like i'm the one who needs rescue. am i toxic? am i a narcissist like trump? I'm not stupid. I know people get mad for dumb reasons. or don't like people for dumb reasons.
i just want to scream at everyone to stop lying to me. stop saying you like me or that you care because i know you don't! i know you're just waiting for me to shut up about it. i know you're only asking how i'm doing so that you can talk about yourself and your problems but at this point i don't even know how to have a straight conversation about whatever the fuck i am feeling.
If i could die to make a single other person happy, i would do it. I wish deaths were like superhero movies, where the world is bettered by one person's sacrifice. like in that play. "you think killing people will make people happy. but it doesn't. it just makes them dead."
is there a word for when you want to die, but you don't want to do it yourself? it would break cason's heart if i died. and i'm pretty sure it would hurt his family too. and my dogs need me. i think.
people ask me what they can do to make me feel better. i have no fucking clue. if i knew what would make me feel better, i would just fucking do it. and i can't tell if your "i care about you!" or "i'm just a dm away!" shit is real! bc fucking spoilers, i've gotten ignored plenty o' fucking times. I don't want to be that person that's always "woe is me, i'm miserable" blah blah blah. sally says it's ok to want attention bc its a human need but it's fucking not ok to be "oh no i'm so sad and i can't eat and my boyfriend hates me, please someone tell me i'm pretty and you care about me." you can't just fucking ask people to tell you they care about you, and then believe it without pause when they say it! our whole generation is trained to lie to make others happy.
I lack value.
i'm useless.
there is no reason for me to exist.
the world would be a better place without me in it.
when do you cross the line? is it having a plan? is it giving up on your life? is it the point where you no longer care one way or the other.
i wish i knew what it felt like to want to live, just for myself. I want to know what it feels like to want to see the next day. my whole life, i can't die now bc my sister needs me. i can't die now bc my grandma needs me. I can't die now because my aunt needs me. I'm too much. i'm a burden. and how dare i consider offing myself when all that's going to do is put more work on everyone else. if i die, someone has to plan my funeral, figure out my will.
cason would be alone. he needs more friends.
is that why i'm always telling him to get emotionally close to other people? i want him to have a support network if something happens to me.
if something happens to him I know i will just die. not to be melodramatic in the middle of my melodrama, but... i have no reason to want to live after that.
actually. i just had a thought. I am good at one thing.
I'm really good at making a man feel good in bed. Particularly if that man has a desire to beat the shit out of the woman he's having sex with. I wonder what it would be like to sleep with a woman. would she be gentle? would she understand that i'm scared to know what makes me feel good, because i've built my entire personality around being what other people want me to be? my ex wanted me to be good at head, and i was. Another wanted me to be good at being a submissive little think to beat and abuse. did that pretty well too. i can make men happy during sex. that's the value i have. that's exactly what i'm worth. one good nut, then off you go. have fun, have a nice life.
i would have made good money as a prostitute. although, probably not since i'm not particularly attractive. or smart. or witty. or entertaining.
just fucking awkward.
i shouldn't be depressed. my life is great. and for all sally says there doesn't have to be a reason for your brain to royally fuck you, i still feel like there should be.
death doesn't discriminate. it takes and it takes and we keep loving anyway.
i don't want to care about people. i'm tired of it always hurting. i'm tired of caring about people when no one gives a fuck about me.
i can't even say that. i'm sure they do. i just wish my brain would let me see it, or trust that it's real and not another catfish or loljk moment.
my own fucking family is bored of me. got a whole 20 minutes of convo combined with my mom and my sister.
of course, neither fucking one asking how i've been.
i want out of this country. in a perfect world, i would forget everything in this life and start over with a clean slate in another country.
i love cason, but it's hard to stay enthusiastic for a life where i've got a single thing to look forward to.
and i'm not even sure he looks forward to me. not really.
we're just so different. of course, we do have a lot of things in common. but just... how we communicate. how we think. how we show each other love.
i worry that he doesn't truly see me as his partner or his other half. he never just trusts that i will help him. it isn't about the expectation that i will do things for him, its about the trust that i will take care of things when he can't.
god i grew up into one of those insecure weepy fat women on a goddamn soap opera.
fuck hannah for putting me through this. fuck my dumb ass family for making me feel like i deserved it the whole time.
I just have just died the first time i tried. idiot fucking child. could have just fallen on the knife. people would have thought it was an accident. no one would hate you for it.
I look at kids now and wonder what the fuck was wrong with all the adults in my life. its not normal for an 8 year old to talk about death. why didn't you put me in therapy when my mom died? or when my dad left? or when my grandparents died and i had to move to the middle of fucking incest country? was i really not worth the hour it took to drive me to therapy after i was raped? just la di dah hope you fucking remember that men never cared about you and they never will.
theres no such thing as a man that cares about you. you are either a sex object, or not worth his attention. and for women... its mostly the same. you don't deserve the attention.
would it be different if i were pretty or smart? or fun or interesting?
i'm great at parties. hey stranger, wanna hear about all my childhood trauma?
i think i used to be good at things. I don't remember now. I don't think i've ever... won anything? done anything notable.
i wish i were smart enough to make a robot that could take my place. if they're good enough at cleaning and listening, no one could even tell the difference.
i refuse to proof read this and correct it. word vomit should be more acceptable.
