slip the knife of thought deeper, give it a little twist. im ded. x_x
summoning the energy to cry even is exhausting and feels unnatural, like sticking a finger down the throat to vomit or something. it just feels uncomfortable, stilted and labored, as if i’m just going through motions that mean nothing to me and have no actual benefit. everything is like this.
if i didn’t bring up the energy to cry tho, i would just sit/lay here forever, stewing in my own negative head. some half-hearted sobs, but mostly just silent tears.
deconstructing my thoughts until they mean nothing, like saying the same word over and over until it makes no sense at all. this is all i can do to keep the words’ meanings hidden from my already fragile psyche. steal the meaning through repetition.
i scrub at my scars in the shower, as if they will go away and i can be clean of the past. too bad, so sad. life doesn’t work that way. there’s no rewind button, no skip ten years ahead. not even to see if there is ten years left for me. lulz, now i’m just wallowing. poor sarah.
she’s so hard on herself, my family says. she has too high standards for herself. as if expecting to be like everyone else is too much to ask. i understand that there is a guise that people wear, a veil of unreality surrounding people, a certain fake glamour that looks perfect and real from a distance but becomes uncanny as the vision closes the distance. but half the time i find myself believing the illusion, and i even pretend it is attainable. but it’s not. we’re all just broken monsters on the inside. or perhaps just me.
it’s like that bully growing up, always toying with me, messing with me, nice and even kind one moment and callous and cold another. as if he had realized once again that he was disgusted by my very existence, and i should feel sorry for ruining his day, by existing…and how he prophesied: if he could only see me now, how sorry i am.
at work i do my job. i still smile and laugh and make others smile and laugh. i’m a wolf in sheep’s clothing, always ready to feign kindliness, light-heartedness, to sate my hunger for approval. every gesture is hollow.
armela got an actual grown-up career going. she’s leaving after next week. i’m going to miss her. it will be hard adjusting. i appreciated her. she was always genuine. she made me feel good, like i had a friend. people liked her, she was just a good person. lol, and now i’m talking about her in the past tense like she’s dead. i just doubt i will ever summon up the social energy to ever see her outside of work. so i’m going to miss her.
i found her a gift, a hand of fatima necklace. it is rose gold filled, pretty and delicate, but it will hopefully last well over time. i’m going to miss our weird conversations and hearing stories about her family and her dog. it’s the end of an era.
my older brother is def moving to NYC, soon. he’s here for now though. he loves it there. said that he felt comfortable there. ha. comfort. what a strange notion.