I would like to make this clear before I get started: this is a personal blog, not just a blog of random half-educated nonsense. This means this blog will contain things of a pretty personal nature, and all of it is 100% honest. For this post: No, I’m not attention whoring. This is me literally dumping out how I feel at the moment. I don’t want or need your sympathy if it’s artificial.
I’ve spent a long time living at my mother’s. I’ve put up with her ridiculous rules,
redacted . And I can’t even begin to understand how she can say she loves me. She has done nothing but make my life hard, in literally every way possible. If home is where the heart is, then broken hearts come from broken homes. This heart is worn and torn by misunderstandings and abandonment.
I don’t like complaining, I never have, and I don’t see myself complaining out of fun any time soon. But I do complain when I feel it has a purpose, somehow, like spewing my words here will ease my internal suffering even for a minute. I can’t be happy here. I’ve never been happy here. There’s nothing that’s happened to me that has made me have a real happy feeling inside. All that’s happened is a superficial watering of the plants of greedy desire.
And now I’m handicapped by it. I swear, it is almost staged, as if my mom wants me to hate her and she wants me to feel this way. My dad just wants me to look to the future and think about how this is a small time in my life. …and here I am just wondering if I’m going to survive the week or decide to opt out early. I’ve been there before, my mom knows this too. I’ve only stayed my own hand because of two things: there are people that I know love me and I can’t hurt them, and God would be pretty ticked at me for offing myself when He explicitly told me not to.
So that means I’m stuck…
…where I am…
That’s where things get tricky. My family wants me to confide in them, but I can’t. I can’t trust my family to my issues and secrets. I do have trust issues, and it comes from a shattered family structure. It’s the only thing I can point to for screwing me up. I don’t want a part of this anymore. I want to be alone, but still within the realm of my closest friends.
So, in reality at this moment, I am indeed alone. I have friends who don’t know how to deal with me when I’m in this terrible mood. I don’t know how to tell them there’s nothing they can do. Just attempting to make me happy is putting a band-aid over a gash; it just covers it up as it festers beneath. A temporary panacea that fades as the plague comes back.
I understand what it means to not be understood, now. All those emo characters you read about in books, see in the movies, hear about on Facebook; the ones that get mocked by people for being some degree of made up. Well, they’re real, and I now understand hopelessness.
…The Color Morale has helped me. Altars’ “Something More” has helped me. They’ve stayed my bad feelings and restore that feeling of hope, of togetherness. I just want to know why music does that to me, and people do not. I just want to know how, that even despite my friends loving me so much, and that I love them back so much, that I am alone and there’s nothing they can do for me. That hurts me more than my living situation.
No, I won’t end it all. An eternity in Hell isn’t worth a walk through my own personal Hell, even if it does describe my idea of Hell as accurately as possible.
I don’t see a positive ending to this story. I never have, and it’s likely that I won’t end up having one, either. There’s too much superficiality to normal life, too much emptiness, too much greed and lust and self-glorification. I don’t want to live, but I have to. I don’t get to choose when I walk out of this; that’s not up to me.
All I want to do is do what I currently can’t: love my friends, learn about God’s creation, and help others. None of which I’m able to do at the moment; at least, I am able to do it, but extremely intermittently.
As always, have a good life. Do not be concerned with me; I am just a human.