K, I think you deserve so much more than her. And D, I need you to know the pain I go through. I need you to know I was raped, beat, and I'm a SHer. And to all my friends and family that I know wouldn't accept this.. I've been bisexual my whole life, and to know you would hate me for it makes it all the harder not to hate myself...
~ I'll Paint You A Picture, I'll Paint It With A Twist, I'll Paint It In Red, With The Canvas On My Wrist.~
I have decided that no matter what I do there will never be anything to fill this hole. I've tried, god knows how many times I've tried. To numb the oblivion, drain myself, forget it all. And it doesn't work. I came here for help and a distraction, but no matter what I do I'm alone amongst company. I hate myself and make others hate me. I won't ever be good enough for you 'cause the fact is there is nothing worth while in me. Nothing I can connect with, nothing you can connect with. I've given up on giving up. You deserve better than this. I can't explain how much this... thing... is eating me up.
I'm done pretending we're best friends. I'm done pretending we're brothers. Because that's all we're doing now. Pretending. I ask if you want to hang out, you don't reply. I come online, you immediately go offline. I wasn't even invited to your 21st. You've been avoiding me for too long, and I'm not going to take that bullshit for one more minute. I don't know why you're avoiding me. I don't care. I'm past caring.
Don't even know what I'd say but I've got to say something.
I'm falling again, I can feel it... and I know that I shouldn't say a thing.
What if it goes wrong? What if - ? I'm so scared. Fucking terrified.
You told me I should be proud that I 'survived a year'. I can't be. Not when I spend my nights dreaming about the OD that should have killed me; or wishing He'd pulled out a knife and cut out my heart; or thinking, each time I come to something high, how it would feel to jump off and fly free for a moment. I can't have pride as well. It doesn't work like that. I'm sorry.
You're going to be so mad at me. Or maybe you'll be disappointed. Or maybe you won't be surprised, but you'll shake your head anyway because you can't believe someone as useless as me hasn't somehow died of negligence yet. Really though, you have no right to be surprised. You gave me a 4,000 word essay to do. You've known me long enough to know that it would have saved us both a lot of time and effort to just fail me right away. Because in the eight years I've known you, I've never handed you a finished assignment. Even though I'm intelligent and driven enough to do them, I just can't quite manage it. So don't be surprised when I come in on Tuesday empty-handed. I'm sorry I've always been such a fuck-up.
I long to be around people who are caring and considerate. I long to be around people who find other peoples pain, a motivation to be better to those people, instead of being harsher towards them.
If I had to put in words how I really feel about you, I guess my post would be deleted for being too strong with vulgar language. I'm not looking forward to interacting with you tomorrow.
Why can't I just give up? Why do you all constantly ask me to do this and do that for you all... and you expect me to do it without giving me a chance to say no or I can't right now
Susanna Kaysen: I'm ambivalent. In fact that's my new favorite word.
Dr. Sonia Wick: Do you know what that means, ambivalence?
Susanna Kaysen: I don't care.
Dr. Sonia Wick: If it's your favorite word, I would've thought you would...
Susanna Kaysen: It *means* I don't care. That's what it means.
A vegetarian recipe book, a pair of pyjama bottoms, a towel and a post-it note you put in my book when you were ill. That's all that's left of you in my life, aside from the scores of books you brought me.
"I've got a present for you" you'd say.
"Is it a book?" I'd say, grinning. It was always a book. Chekov, Hunter S. Thompson, Phillip K. Dick and so many more. It seems so alien to have to buy for myself again.
And this is what remains of you. These remnants, plus a few personal habits like only freshly brewed coffee in the morning, green tea before bed. I get by. I miss you but most days I know that it's for the best and I'm moving on with my life. You're starting to become fuzzy around the edges, and live in my head as some legendary character. Some days you haunt me though, plague me. Like this nagging sensation in the back of my skull, behind my ear. Even so, when I think back to some of the times we spent together I find myself smiling. Everything that's happened doesn't take away those memories, barely even taints them. Once I was happy. And I loved. And I was loved.