TAYLOR . on We Heart It
I hate the night time. It is so dark and silent and big. It reminds me just how small I really am, and I cannot place a finger on the overwhelming sense of despair that creeps inside of me. So desperate to be special, loved, beautiful, wanted. It makes me sick, thinking of my own shallow desires but knowing I cannot really change them, I can always feel them there. What makes it worse is the people anxious to believe that I am something else inside. What use is it to tell them I have nothing to offer? People are kind, and they will reassure you time and time again, but I can never bring myself to believe it. I am not talking about pity, I do not want it yet everything I do craves it. I know exactly who I am, and that is someone so absorbed in themselves they even sit and write all about it. When did I become so closed off and rude and selfish? Was it always there, buried, waiting for my teenage years to arrive so it could reveal itself? I hate myself for the person I am, I hate my thoughts and I hate the way people see me. It is pathetic and I would tell myself not to dwell on it but I am having a moment of weakness. I am feeling so very lost, disgustingly poetic and clichéd lost. I don’t know how to make my life count. I don’t know how to reverse the bad stigma inside of me and let it all go. I don’t believe in myself, so how do I see myself on the stage in lights whenever I close my eyes? I don’t know if this is depression but it is gnawing at me, and dragging me down to a miserable place. I don’t know if I’m happy or just cheerful. But how could I not be happy? I have family and friends who love me for some bizarre reason and everything I ask for. What kind of selfish demon is this to tell me I’m not OK? I could be the patron saint of fictional lessons and morals, but I am ignoring the one in front of me: get up get up get up. Do something. I would do anything for anyone who asked, but what about the rest of the time when I sit here stewing in my own worries. I have problems and I get over them but sometimes, fleetingly, the darkness is so much it threatens to suffocate me. My smiles are rarely fake but as soon as they are gone it’s like a curtain going down on the light. I have to get a grip on my life, and my temper. Rid myself of the venom and hatred that has no real precedent. Give back more than I take. Find a way to batter the demons hammering on my door as soon as night falls, occasionally barging in on my day. I live in fictional worlds so much I have a bad coping mechanism of forgetting about my real one. Let me find my healthy balance.
I like the idea of not knowing where I am in ten years’ time. I hope by then I’ll have learned to love the night time again and see the dark sky for what it really is: full of stars.
my therapist once told me that i have this obsession with seeking revenge… we’ll see about that
"In the end, it mattered not that you could not close your mind.I t w a s y o u r h e a r t t h a t s a v e d y o u .”
Got a bit of… toothpaste.