A day passes, or a week, or perhaps merely an hour and you think back and you realise that wasn't really the problem. It was just an avoidance, or a cop-out, or a denial. But it was a nice thought while it lasted.
So maybe I don't have the answer to the problem which has created a drama queen of me. Or maybe I'm still hiding it so deep within myself that I can't even find it. What I do have, is an explanation of sorts for some of my behaviors. And if anyone knows me at all, they know that I like to have a proper, rational explanation for everything.
Yes. I am pretending to be xliteraturexcorex. Perhaps ever so slightly in the true sense of the word? I'm making a half-assed attempt at being "scene"? At the same time, I'm trying to appeal to a wider audience by poking fun at the "scene" crowds and the "scene" kids with all of their traumatic, supposedly meaningful x's and "core" things. xhardxcorex. xemoxcorex. xfashionxcorex. xminjaxcorex. xwhateverxcorex. The x's are dizzying and frightening. Too many for anyone's good.
I'm posing. Kind of. But all I seem to be doing lately, is "posing".
Let's skip out on all this silly teen emotastic slang though. It's not my style.
Lately, I've been feeling like I have to be a Certain Someone. I feel like I have certain Duties to fulfill, certain Things to be to be loved, to be cared about, to even be just plain liked. But I was always cared for because of who I was in the first place. I haven't held anything back heretofore, so why must I now? Do I feel like I changed and got better and then reverted? No. I feel like I haven't changed or gotten any better in the first place. I should have been moving forward, while I'm stuck in one place, and possibly even sliding further backward.
I feel as though I am slowly deteriorating from the person my friends knew and cared for, into something worse. Which is a silly thought I suppose, because I am not at the lowest point in my life. I have been worse. I was worse a couple months forward a year ago at this time. Back when I was even sillier and caught in cycles of self hatred and near ridiculous self abuse.
So I have gotten better. And I'm not reverting. But I've noticed other problems, which are probably just as bad, or worse. Take for example, my selfishness. I never considered myself a really selfish girl. A selfish girl never shares her things and toys. She hoardes, she is jealous, she wants all things for herself without giving anything in return. But I related it all to material posessions. I did not hoarde or covet material posessions like that. I was not plagued by the "traditional" or "obvious" selfishness. I was blissfully ignorant of how replete I was with a far more repulsive inner selfishness. The selfishness I had for attention. The glutton I was for constant love and affection. How many of us are? So many of us are! We grasp and grope and rob and steal. We take everything from a fellow poor man to make ourselves rich but never give anything back. And the wealth we gobble falls from the holes in our stomachs and kneecaps and is ruined by the stony ground beneath our feet. We can never be satiated. We only want more and we never can give and so it's never enough...
And then there are misers who give and take none. They shrivel and die. And the misers who give all and refuse everything and dress themself up in the rags of their glory. Only to shrivel and die alone in the brimstone. Alone in the brimstone with their pride.
I am the second to latter. Or, at the moment I am. I need but I won't take. And because I won't take, I will not give. Sometimes perhaps I'll try to share a morsel. Here and there I'll offer a halfpence. But that doesn't get anyone far.
And that is my selfishness. And I am ashamed.
That's not who I'm supposed to be.
But I can't seem to be who I think I should be. I can't be the writer I feel I need to be for my diary all the time. I can't be the one everyone oohs and aahs over. I can't always produce the work which makes people think and learn things. But I feel like that's who I'm supposed to be. Regardless. Maybe I'm trying too hard, or maybe sometimes, I really am failing and fall short of that girl. If I fall short, won't everyone hate me? Won't I be rejected? Even if not, I'll have let everyone down.
And what about the girl who's supposed to give "quality chats?" What if she isn't always there? What if she feels sometimes that she can't produce them? What about, like tonight, when she's curled up in her chair crying but trying to laugh and joke instead. Pathetically trying to make decent conversation. She can't do it but she feels she has to. She needs to deliver. Deliver twit! Deliver! You must be That Girl or you'll let everyone down! You can't be another burden. Another trouble. Another drama queen sitting high upon her throne. Crying in an exaggerated manner to garner help when they are far too weary to help anyone anymore.
When did this fall into the third person? I know with my mind that I don't have to be anything. I don't ever have to be anything but myself. I can say that to myself. But I don't think I believe it. At all.
No. Because I'm sick of this. I am so sick and tired of all of this. I just want to feel better. I just want it all to be done. I just want it to go away. I don't want to write these sort of things anymore. I don't want to feel this bad. But I can't seem to feel better. I'm trying so hard, and I thought that "where there was a will, there was a way." Well here's the will, but the way isn't opening!!
I'm stuck! I feel so caged by this drama and ridiculousness. I feel so imprisoned by this pain. I want to get out. Isn't that the key? My will? My will to change and get better? My will to be done? Why isn't this key working?
I'm desperate. I'm at my wits' end. I'm being crushed by the weights. I am so weary of these cycles. I'm so weary of these emotions. They have me hemmed in.
Where am I going wrong? Can't anybody help me? Will anybody help me?
On an afterthought: I do not believe for one moment that this is clinical depression. A few pills and this goes away? I shudder at the thought. I could not accept that. I do not think that is my issue. This isn't quite depression. Not of that sort. I think this can be solved without medication. I certainly hope such a thought as clinical depression did not entire anyone's mind in connection with myself. But in case it did, I just want to deter it...
