I still don’t know how this thing works…

…but lately I feel like I don’t really know how anything works. I feel so completely lost and invisible. I had hoped as I grew up, I would outgrow this feeling. Instead, I only seem to be growing more into this feeling. I wish the earth would crack open and swallow me up. I know nobody would even notice for a few days, maybe even a few weeks. When I need someone, it’s hard for me to ask for help. I have been trying though, and each time I get ignored. I feel like I only exist for other people, for when they need me, when it’s convenient for them. What about when I need them? Where is everyone then?

I find it harder and harder to get up, to go to work, to push through the day. I Imagine a million ways in which I could just cease to exist - not die, just stop being. Because I’m sick of having to make the first moves, make the decisions, beg for a crumb of attention… only to be cast aside because someone infinitely more worthy crosses into their line of sight. I hate that when they need me, I am there. I want to stop. I just want to stop being there for everyone. I want to punish them by not being there for me. The sad truth is that if I stop being there, nobody will care. They will scarcely notice.

It’s after 2am and I am exhausted, but I can’t sleep. I don’t want to sleep. Lately when I dream, I am happy. I don’t just exist, I am a part of something and people actually want me. I actually want myself. Then I wake up and it was all a lie. I don’t want to sleep because eventually I wake up.

I feel like I used to think I had such purpose. I used to be awesome. Now I am so incredibly lost, floating directionless unable to even drown successfully. I want to be awesome again. I want to love myself again. I want to be awesome and find my path. I want to be loved and wanted.

But I don’t even know how to start.

Death and Sequels

I just finished reading The Fault in Our Stars. It’s always a strange feeling reading a book in one sitting (or something near that, as my reading was occasionally interrupted by the oven timer alerting me that my baked french toast was ready). I always feel exhausted, disoriented, and just in general a little less while simultaneously a little more.

Of course, I began reading the book thinking of Esther, but somewhere along the line Esther fell away and I was sitting on the couch reading and sympathizing with fictional characters who knew exactly how I felt when I lost TJ. It is comforting and heartbreaking to know that someone else could feel or even imagine the pain I felt and still feel today. Particularly page 262, second paragraph, second sentence. How many times have I awoken with that same thought, watched a movie or heard a song and felt that same feeling? It’s like falling down a pit, knowing that it’s such a long way to the bottom, and the whole way down trying desperately and impossibly to imagine a rope or foothold into existence. We are all grenades, and inevitably we will all leave some scars. Our very existence will shatter into uncomfortable and irremovable pieces of shrapnel that will pain those we love when they move in just the right way. 

I also got to thinking of this odd idea so many people share that an author is the only one who can come up with proper answers to questions about their characters. That’s pretty much like expecting the people who birthed us are the only ones allowed to have any say in how our lives turn out. I know it’s because we want some solid answers, but there are no solid answers in life. None.

I would really like to curl up and sleep now, but it is Kyle’s last day at work and I promised him my famous french toast, so I have to shower and be at the door by 1am or Pete won’t let me in. The things we do for the people we care about. :)

Tada!

I’m still trying to figure out what I want to put here, but for now, I am at least here.