it is the crack of dawn and i could cry

i have no one now

i got what i fucking deserved

that’s all i’ve written in the past couple weeks. i’ve tried on 3 separate occasions; could never get past the first sentence. the wind blows too strongly this month. i can’t see through the storm well enough to say anything meaningful.

i’m not doing terrible. i’m not particularly good either. everything around me is changing and i feel exactly the same. same as i was 6 months ago, same as last year. same as i was when i was 17 or 14 or still a little kid. i still don’t know how to deal with shit. i still don’t know how to stay in control. it’s just less shocking now that i have the language to define my flaws.

talentless. delusional. inferior. obsessive. monstrous. broken. unlovable. meaningless words i toss around in my head like they even matter, as i face this world i don’t deserve to stay in, this sun that doesn’t deserve to shine on me. the words stick to me and i’m used to it now. the hate doesn’t quite punch like it used to.

i’m nauseous. i’m exhausted. i’m never home and i’ve stopped sleeping in my own bed. i haven’t done groceries in months, eaten adequately in years. i haven’t made friends and i haven’t had the strength to confront the ones that pretend i don’t exist. i’ve got unplanned projects for the months ahead and unfinished business from the months now passed and i let all my deadlines stab me in the gut like i've already failed before trying. i don’t have time to breathe, i don’t have time to think. i live in a pile of shit and i crawl in a body i neglect. my organs sit in quicksand and my muscles shake in vain, my brain spills down my neck and my heart throbs in my throat. i keep choking on words that die in my lungs and tears that melt through my skin and promises i keep breaking to the people i’m supposed to love. i’m swimming in a pit of oxygenless air. i’m not any better than i was when i had reason to be bad. i keep falling deeper down this well of undreamt dreams.

i have this vision of you on loop in my head, every time we cross paths. that one day soon, this uncertainty will finally break. you’ll know me again, and see that i’m still here, and together we’ll mend the divide. but i open my eyes and see your back turned, and i know that this wall between us will never move. that we were temporary, and this ache is unending.

i keep seeing you everywhere and it throws my day off its axis. it is distorting the signals in my brain. last week i was running through the rain in my ballet clothes, jumping in puddles and muddying my legs and i saw you. i saw you there with someone, walking under the same umbrella, in that fucking brown flannel, looking down at your phone doing literally nothing. how does the universe figure this healthy? how does she deem it necessary? i don’t want to know you exist. i don’t want to look up and see that you’re still real, eating a sandwich on the second floor of the science building, walking around with thoughts and a beating heart, continuing onwards somehow without the need for that invisible field that used to bind us together. we live separate lives but we'll never be apart. we are parallel, never skewed, with the hand that still holds our faces to the glass. i’ll never be able to pretend you don’t exist.

can i even be angry? can i be angry at you for being able to live? for not needing me the way i need you? for thinking having me in your life is more painful than not? for being completely immune? i keep asking myself how you do it. how you live every day without the earth giving out underneath you. how you live unaffected by these unclosed wounds. how you keep dragging me around in a leash because its more convenient than giving me closure, dragging me across the pavement because you think you’ve done the right thing, dragging me through the mud because you’d rather blame this on my brain than admit you did anything wrong. i don’t understand how you could leave me here to rot in a pool of unpayable debts. but that’s just it. these debts are unpayable. there’s no solution to what i did, so who am i to blame you for not wanting to try?

i know this era is over but i don’t know how to let go. or i keep pretending to not know how to let go, because i don’t want to. i’ve bullied myself so deep into submission that i forget how i got here in the first place. but the proof is right in front of me and it’s you. the truth is objective and it turns me numb. i lie and say there’s better ways for me to handle things, i ask myself the same bullshit questions just to plug my ears in retaliation to the answers. but i know the answers. i know how to let go. it's just that letting go would mean having to accept the fact that i’m exactly as bad as i say i am, that everything is different now and it’s all my fault. letting go would mean entering the next stage of my life, where i have to live with this thing i did forever, without ever being blessed with the relief of forgiveness.

when i was younger, i told myself i was a bad person to cover my bases, not because i did bad things. i did it to say, "this makes sense because i already said i was like this" when the bad things inevitably happened, to give predisposed merit to my own human nature. so i wonder if i do bad things because i tell myself i’m bad. i wonder if villainizing my brain gives me the fuel to prove it. i wonder if this could’ve been avoided had i known how to love myself first. what if i’m stuck now, in a feedback loop of evil? doomed to hate myself for fucking up, and fucking up just to make the hate worth something?

i don’t know. none of this makes sense. it’s still september and i’m still breaking. and the world keeps moving on without me, and i’m still running to catch up. i can’t fix anything. my heart hurts so bad. i don’t know what to do.