I’m frightened all of the time. I’m terrified of being abandoned, of being lonely, of change, of confrontational emotions. I’m always wondering if this is it, if I’m always going to attract the negativity, and the pain, and the suffering that I see all the time. Everything and everyone is burdened by the thought of me. I constantly sob all night long and I always desperately reach out to those I love in the hopes that they will console me. But I see that look in their eyes. It’s burned into my mind. They’re disgusted, put off, annoyed, done. I ask too much of them and then I lash out defensively so they won’t know how much pain they’ve caused me, to myself. And I hate the darkness because it’s usually accompanied by cold silence. What do I do then, being in the dark and feeling numb? Maybe that’s why my eyes are shock white, clear as milk and thin like oil. I’ve been thrown away and ignored that I’ve grown used to the neglect, so I reluctantly seek out the darkness that is found within my heart. Does that make sense? It’s my fault, really. I deserve that restlessness, that turmoil of always wondering whether or not this will last. Somewhere, somehow I did something in my past that led me to this point of self-loathing…right?
You know that sensation you get when you’re feeling disconnected, neglected, and lonely? Yeah, that one. A defiance, to all of it. I am here and you are not yet it seems like only I feel this negativity in myself. It threatens to consume me until I am nothing but a void. It ebbs and pushes like the annoying rhythmic pattern of waves, ceaselessly crashing and crashing and crashing onto the shore that is my heart. It pulls on me so much that I actually start to push back at it, snarling at it to try again if it dares. Because I am disconnected, neglected, and lonely, I maniacally laugh at its continuous pounding. I am becoming defensive now, casting out my own line of provocation, yet simultaneously and ironically fighting it all the while. You’re ignoring me now, aren’t you? (He really isn’t.) Well, I can too.
He doesn’t think my problems are rooted in my anxiety, insecurities, fears, and anger. He doesn’t want to be the one to comfort me anymore because it’ll only make me bad again. He doesn’t know what to say when I feel like the whole world is against me. He doesn’t touch me when I think I am disgusting and ugly. He doesn’t believe that I will ever hurt myself. He doesn’t like it when I’m unhappy and he wants me to smile more. He withdraws into himself when I try to reach out (I don’t want to perpetuate this cycle) so then I cry more because he was the one I thought I could count on to hold me when I was already feeling like shit. So now I must be wrong. I must not be allowed to feel this way. My problems don’t mean anything. They shouldn’t reach into the depths of me. Because, as he said, it’s all just surface level.