Girl Undone

My head is screaming in thunderous discord yet it’s all noise.  Just noise.  The words went away. I have no adequate way of  verbalising this other then to say I’m fed up.  Fed up.  Fed up.  Fed up.  Fucking fed up.

The noise in my head is like the angry bark of the black dog.  He’s hungry for change.  For destruction. 

I’m not even entirely sure exactly what is wrong anymore yet I feel like I’m suffocating.

Yet what if

What if this is it.

As good as it gets.

What if the better is a mere fallacy?

Is it worth risking all that you have for nothing? Surely this. …something. … is better than nothing?

What if what I want; what I crave, doesn’t exist?

Or is something I simply don’t deserve.

We get one life.  One

Why do I feel like I’m wasting mine through abject disservice to myself.  Through being fair to middling.  For making do. For being grossly unsettled yet trying to settle.  By  accepting not being happy.  Not even being content.

But what if this is just real life? How it’s supposed to be.  You can’t fight reality. Fate.

I don’t even know what the problem is.  I thought it was me.  It usually is.  What if I’m not the problem though?  Is that even possible? 

Yet a change would be akin to blowing my world up.  And it’s not just my world anymore.  It’s theirs.  I can’t risk their happiness.   Not in exchange for mine.  Especially when I doubt my own  capability of happiness anyway.  Of it’s existence.

Do they know?  Do they sense it?

What if this is happiness but I don’t know what to do with it?

The gamble is too steep.  Risking everything for what could be nothing.

Detonating my entire life just to discover it was never my life at fault.  It was me. Just me. As always.  With my inability to live.  What if my soul is simply  incompatible with life?

What if this is as good as it gets. I’m neglecting it.  Watching it rot and fall apart. I should be saving it.  Yet how can I save it when I can’t even save myself?  You probably think I don’t care.  I do.  I do. I’m just a dick at showing it.  At proving it.  I keep thinking we’ll have forever.  That I can save it later. Yet I can feel it running through my fingers.  Escaping.  Dissolving.  One day it will be too late.  And it will be my fault.  My fault.

I can’t test anything though.  It’s all our nothing.  The changes that could help me see clearer still haven’t happened.  Probably never will. 

Which just makes me angrier.

I’m literally vibrating from vitriol lately. This unhappiness, this disenchantment, this loneliness, this. … This. …. confusion.  It all  translates into anger.  Because it’s more  acceptable to show anger than unhappiness.  To shout rather than to cry.  Anger is stronger. Sadness is weakness.

Yet it’s exhausting.  And  destructive.  It hurts others.  Those you don’t want to hurt.  That don’t deserve to hurt. Anger lashes out, words are weapons and the spaces between the lines scream at them ‘you’re at fault.  You’re doing this.  You’re making her angry! ‘ it chips away pieces of the most beautiful people in your life and you can’t stop it. You can’t stop shouting.  They feel like everything they do is wrong. If only they knew.  If only they knew they’re all that’s right. And you’re sorry.

The anger is just a manifestation of the sadness. The frustration.  The  disenchantment.  The loathing of self and life.

Because you’re what’s wrong.  You always have been.  Always will be. Your sadness whispers the truths that the anger cannot ‘I’m at fault.  It’s my fault.  I’m making myself angry. I am my own unhappiness ‘

I don’t recognise what I’ve become.

I don’t even have a face in my head anymore.  I’m now not only blank on the inside but on the outside too now.  A total eradication of self.  I am nothing.

And I’m scared. 

If only I could pull myself together.  Get on with things.  Do what I need to do.  Be who I need to be.  Stop thinking.  Forget feeling.  just get on with life

Whilst I’m trying so hard not to press self destruct on my world it threatens to press itself through my negligence to save it. 

One day I’ll say I’m sorry.  For everything. 

One day you might actually believe it.

If only I could stop the black dog from biting you all.  It’s only supposed to maul me.

What if all that is wrong….. is  my fault? My doing and undoing. 

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