I was just typing everything in me out on the blank screen. And i thought... why not?
Song Suggestion- Demons by OneRepublic
"you cannot truly love until you know how to love yourself."
It's paralyzing and awe-inspiring in its ability to stop the world from spinning. It had immobilized her throughout her miserable life. Too much had been done, too much had been said.
She had been innocent, loved and supported. Reality had been an ice-bucket to the face. And she had shivered her way through the pain. Magic had been a cripple. The fear had dictated what she should have done, what she should have said, and she had complied in reckless abandon of her own worth. Her decisions weren't her own. Never had been.
She'd looked at people. They'd stared right back. And the fear had been with her, tiny seedlings of mistrust and disbelief growing in her chest by the day, raising ugly, scarred heads that scowled and told her she wasn't worthy of taking up space in the world.
She looked at the girl on the stand. Accolades had always been pieces of cake for her.
And then there was her. Always in her shadow. Always compared. No, it was her. She was the one who always matched them in everything. People accused her of not even trying. And someday, sometimes, she wondered, did she not try because she feared what would happen if she did? Maybe she'd actually not be good enough. Not better. Just… another old face in the crowd. Another face people shook their heads at.
She was a farce. There. That was it. Out in the open. It was like her chest had been torn open, and now, a vulnerable part was out in the open. Bleeding. Cracked. Broken. It was scary to be vulnerable. To have the courage to do it and still be shunned by those around you. And she had before. But now she didn't know. She had experienced it. Firsthand. And opening yourself back up… it took too much effort. Having the courage to do so, getting rejected, sewing back together the broken pieces and having the guts to do it all over again. It was so much easier to lock yourself away. To be distant. She had grown to lean on the others for support. For help. For advice. But now she wondered if it had become a crutch. It wasn't before. But they had grown tired of her. She was known as needy. Dependent. Unusable. Unfriendable. And she was…. she didn't even know what she was anymore. Open. Hurt. Someone too broken to hang out with. Someone weird. Someone ugly. Someone horrible. Someone uncaring. Someone mean. Someone unhelpful. Someone to take advantage of when she was there and discard when no longer needed.
She had loved herself. That was a long time ago. She hadn't found a balance between unhealthy and healthy pressure. She didn't know when to push herself, she didn't know how, or when, or where, and neither did she realize when she pushed herself past the breaking point. So now she didn't even try. Maybe she wouldn't get hurt then. Not trying showed you didn't care. But… did she? Or maybe she truly didn't. Or maybe she was fucked up. Another flailing idiot in the sea. She wanted to flash some credentials so the rescue boat would help her first. The things was… she didn't have any to flash. So, then she got caught up in getting them. And then she forgot to enjoy life. She forgot she was a kid. She forgot the people around her. She withdrew. And then it happened all over again. She didn't know how much effort to put in. Into games, into relationships, into her career, into her life. Sometimes she put too much, she didn't get any back and then she was needy. Or maybe they took it for granted and she was shunned. Ignored. Rejected again and again. Or then maybe she didn't try at all and then she was accused of being uncaring. Horrible. Selfish. Balance was… hard. She was flailing in the sea. Maybe drowning was more appropriate. She wanted to rip her hair out sometimes.
She was part of a community. On paper. Yet she was the only one in the group who didn't quite fit in. The one surrounded and yet alone. Or maybe alone both inside and outside. Always the one trailing on the outside. Always the one 'peeping in'. She wasn't part of the happenings. Maybe she'd get too caught up in the flow and say something that weirded everyone out. Or maybe she'd say silent because she didn't have a clue what was going on. Always pushing people away. Sometimes intentionally, sometimes not.
And she knew she wasn't the only one out there. But it sure seemed that way. Everyone refused to be vulnerable around her. They didn't…. trust her. Not in the way she trusted them. There it was again. The unequal exchange. Everyone always projected their best. Their accolades, their smiles, their happiest happenings. And as much as she tried to remind herself, she wondered why she wasn't getting them too.
There was this day she remembered. It always repeated itself, manifested itself in some way in her daily happenings. She had been in the crowd, smiling, laughing. Another farce. She hadn't found her type of people yet, so she tried to go along with the flow. And then at some point in the day, she stopped. Smiling, laughing, she found she couldn't do it anymore. Her mouth stopped of its own accord. She couldn't bring herself to laugh. She didn't have control anymore. So she drooped, in a way. She stopped. She was emotionless. She just… couldn't. She could see it in their faces when she didn't laugh at their jokes anymore. She saw it in their eyes when she just talked about depressing things. They were important things to her. And then… they left. Not quite physically. She found she had to jostle people around her to keep her space, the little that she had. She was being mean then, wasn't she? Her voice overlapped with others when she did try to talk, and they always glared at her like she was the one interrupting them. The needle in the haystack. The black sheep amongst the white.
She had remembered feeling like that all her life. Unaccounted, underappreciated. What she put effort into, what she felt mattered, she gave her 100%. And then it always went to someone else. So she honestly didn't know what to do. She had an idea? Poof. They gave her appreciation and respect when she contributed, and it felt so good to be present and contributing and recognized, that she went along with it, and then she was gone. Another face in the crowd. Again. So she didn't try. Again. It took so much effort to try again. Stand again. Call out.
And then she wondered if she was actually useful. Did she have substance? Was she there for a reason? Maybe all she did was sit. Sure felt like that. She couldn't be useful anywhere. She didn't feel part of a community. The stuff she knew how to do, the things she could do… well, they seemed useless. She felt like she couldn't help. She didn't know how to help when it mattered. She wanted it to matter to her when she helped. The things she enjoyed, she treasured so closely. Like a dragon hoarding its treasure. She was terrified of letting them go. She was terrified of waking up one day and finding out she really didn't like anything anymore. She just… existed. People said she was a child. It did hurt. Sometimes it was a joke, sometimes it wasn't, but it hurt all the same.
She got this feeling sometimes. Like she was being torn apart. Pulled in a million different directions. A restless feeling that made her want to scream to get it out. But she had so much to do. It didn't make sense. She was conflicted. Uneasy. She wanted to keep jiggling her leg, twitching her hands. And she didn't know what to do except hope it went away.
So then she poured herself into places she knew she wouldn't be judged. Words. A book. A laptop. A bed. A game. Perhaps not. And then she withdrew again. They would go further away if they saw her scars. She was already too needy. Being more vulnerable wouldn't help. Yet she wanted to fall back. To have a supporting net. Maybe she'd already used it far too many times. Maybe it was torn now. Irreparable. The little flame of hope in her heart was no longer kindled. It was all she could do to try and keep the hopelessness out. The lack of interest that threatened to overwhelm her. It seemed huge. And yet, when she spoke or when she tried opening up, she seemed petty. To herself. To everyone. She seemed… horrible. So, she withdrew. Again. Over and over.
She wanted to get out. Scream, cry. But then she would just be making noise again. She felt trapped. There were so many people out there, people with real problems. Sometimes she wondered if she exaggerated hers, so they'd actually be worth listening to. Worth helping.
She'd wondered what it was like to have someone. She wondered what it was like to not need anyone. She'd wondered what it was like to be good at something. She'd wondered what it was like to feel happy. She'd wondered what it was like to be content and have friends. She'd wondered a lot of things. She knew she wasn't special. She was with people who were. She didn't want the spotlight anyway. Or did she? Maybe sometimes. When she did put in effort. Sometimes. Maybe she did get hurt sometimes out of those sometimes. It was hard putting yourself out there. She felt invisible sometimes. People noticed her at the wrong times. When they needed something. When they wanted help. She hoped her face was one people missed sometimes. Maybe they'd actually think of her sometimes. Maybe they'd smile at her memory sometimes. If she actually stopped caring, though, what's to say they wouldn't all desert her? Leave her. She had already experienced it so many times. Reject. They maybe made excuses not to sit with her. Stand with her. Talk with her. Be seen with her.
Maybe she had to build her own identity. Leave the crutch. It was hard standing without it. She had fallen down so many times already. It hurt to stand up. Maybe she wasn't even trying anymore. Maybe she was writing about it. Maybe that would help. Maybe she'd actually stand on her own one day. That was a lot of maybes.
She'd drowned in herself, then. She'd gotten one up on the damn ocean. She'd taken the verbal bashings, the silent rage, the unspoken abuse, and she'd kept quiet. She'd gone through the pain. She'd opened herself up. She'd embraced it.
And she'd spent hours and hours poring over the countless articles and reports and research papers. Hoping to find somebody with her. Going through the same things. Solutions to her problems. The fact that she could get through this. Fear was never supposed to be a crutch. It was never supposed to crush her. It wasn't meant to freeze her in place. But old friends can stab you in the back too. She didn't know when the fear became an enemy. She didn't know when she started changing the path she walked to avoid it.
She'd looked in the mirror and she hadn't recognized the person who'd stared back at her. She'd felt trapped, disgusted by who she was. And she hadn't felt worthy of the love. She'd wonder if she'd become an addict, desperately clinging to the love on the rare occasions when she got it, or if she quit entirely.
But then she'd met her. Her soulmate. And her life had changed forever. Sometimes you're just waiting for the right person to come along to help you up. Sometimes you find that person in yourself. She'd been a bright spot in the never-ending darkness for her. Her lifeline in the cruel ocean she was drowning in. She was never going to fall into the bottomless well of self-doubt and guilt and loathing and despair again. Never. Ever. Again. Not in a million years. Not while she had truly found herself for the first time since she became conscious she wanted to live instead of just exist.
Maybe someone out there read this. Maybe you didn't.
But I hope this helped you as it did me nonetheless
