Maybe my feeling will come back to me soon but maybe it wont, not at all. I just want to feel again, even if it is just pain.

Pain about losing Strange Kid before I even had him, pain about my “friends” not really being friends, pain about Mother. Pain about anything would be nice.

Pain allows you to feel, it lets you know that you’re alive. I’ve never been one for physical pain, I just can’t deal with it, so I know that I’d never be able to cut (unlike some of my actual friends), although with cutting you do get to choose where the scars go and what they look like, but I have had to deal with emotional pain all my life. I guess that I’m so used to it by now that I’ve learnt how to block it out. But now I realise that by blocking it out and not dealing with it has scarred me in ways I never knew it could. I have become bitter. I don’t want to be yet I know no way out of it.

I guess that being able to put that down in writing has showed that my feeling has come back. And the tears prove that it has. I guess that if I’d been writing this down on paper I’d be speaking of my tear splattered pages (or maybe you’d just be able to see them), instead I’ll speak of my tear splattered keyboard.

What I’m crying about, I’m not too sure. Maybe when I wake up in the morning everything will be better, or at least on the road to getting better. Maybe the tears will wash my sorrows away. Isn’t that what people say about cutting, that it will make them feel better? (Or is it something about control, I never can remember. Anyway) I think for me crying is therapeutic; it allows me to start moving on. It allows me to start on my way to recovery, I don't believe that cutting could ever do that for a person.

I wish that I had someone to talk to, someone who could know everything but I don't. All I have are my friends who aren’t really friends, not in the true sense of the word anyway and a mother who doesn’t really care, despite what she might say or maybe she just couldn’t deal. Maybe she knows that she can’t. All I really have is Ted but he is a stuffed teddy bear who doesn’t really hold a very good conversation. He listens fine but conversation and advice aren’t really his strong points. And advice / help are what I really need.

Just like Mother I can’t deal, this I know. But just like with cutting I know that I could never just “end it”. There are too many things left for me to do, too many things left for me to see, too many things left for me to learn, too many things left for me to feel.

There ARE elderly people alive out there, in the big bad world, so I know that there has to be a way to get through it all and come out on top, I just have to find that way.

I’m meant to be going out tomorrow (well, really its today) and it is way past my bed time but always knows that I WILL return. I am not going anywhere. Even if I feel that there is nothing else left to do, I KNOW that there must be something, anything could make a world of difference.

Maybe now that I’ve got this out I can sleep but then again maybe I won’t be able to, all I can do is try. Try and believe, believe that things will get better and that I will believe, Try, believe and survive.

L

Written on 03 December 2005 at 02:37 am