Every time I say “I’m trying” there is an ex-friend of mine cranging in some part of the planet. I don’t know what to write about anymore and I don’t feel like writing too. I’m not satisfied with the way my writing, or the way all the different relations I have seem to end on note of how I seem like a nightmare and needs to stop.
I always knew something wasn’t right with me; never choose to be so fucking anxious and seem to cover it up with stupid and unfunny things that just made everyone uncomfortable. I don’t even have the self control to stop talking.
I really want to stop being everything I am, and be everything I want to but will never be able to be.
As fucked as it sounds, very little seems to be under my control. I want to love myself, I want to be able to accept the love people show me. I want to be able to build a spiral staircase out of my pity hole and walk the road less taken to find lost hope.
I’ve always wanted to have friendship that seemed like the famous five, or secret seven, or Hermione, Harry, and Ron, or like Ross and Chandler, and so many more. I spent a good amount of time fantasising about these friendship through some terrible times. That is throughout school, when bullies made life hell and I was counting days to turn 16/18 and coming out of there, living the fantasy of a beautiful friendship.
I finally got there, made the friends I’d always fantasised about and a few others too in the process. But I never really could accept that friendship because I couldn’t accept the fact that I was worthy of this love. *Taylor Swift singing in the background “this love“*
I was too busy crying, to realise that I was washing away my friends and relationships. Every friendship or relationship that was in my vicinity or ever was around me or involved me seems to be dead or dying; makes me feel like a piece of radiating garbage. If only I was half as cool as a radiating tea pot, life might have been different.
I could and can live with all that jazz, except every time someone is walking away from me they either tell me how, I’m their worst nightmare or that they are afraid of turning into me if they stuck around or I’m simply a reminder of the worst possible situation or nightmare.