It’s my birthday and all I can think about is you

Happy birthday to me.

Even after knowing and reminiscing all that has been said, the stabbing pain in your heart hasn’t diminished whenever you see him fooling around with other women who apparently make everything more “comfortable” by loving him less or not at all (but hey, at least you’re going out, which you refused with me, so thumbs up!1!). Or like the explanation for it went: “There are different degrees in love.” Right. I call it being afraid of love and running away from responsibilities and people who genuinly (and not conveniently) care. Like living inside your own game where you can create a new character each time you feel like it, or switch to a new server, and get the thrill of a new adventure all over again, instead of having to maintain what you had built up. Or let me put it in ARK-nerdspeak: being around grinders and stone-fetchers and working on your base rapidly gets too boring so without consulting first you go about as you please and restart on a new server yet again because then you don’t have to fix the mess you made on the previous one.
Maybe that ARK miniature I gave you (perhaps you don’t even remember you have it, or maybe you already threw it out) was a then-unknown symbol for our doomed relationship. It arrived too late, was too small, you didn’t seem happy to have it and it’s a bird about to fly off. *laughs*
I do wonder if you ever respawned and after awhile realized you regretted erasing the previous game. But to each their own. Moon, stars, you know my quote.
Besides, more love to give to the next one who’s gonna break my heart, right?

Captain Mirks, or simply “Shim” when your flame diminished, you were my safe haven, with your apartment as my favourite ship, but its fickle storms have damaged me too much. Maybe one day I’ll happily return as an ally, but for now the waves are still too high. Until we meet again at the shoreline.

Eggshells

I am a failure.

My chest is aching, my eyes hurt from crying and I have trouble breathing.

This carefully built shell is breaking, and because the inside is hollow, I’ll have nothing left.

The new life I’m working so hard on is crumbling down and I don’t have the strength to prevent it.

I can’t go through this a second time.

Point lost

I currently don’t see the point of living anymore. I don’t want to sound gloomy, but I really don’t feel like my life has a purpose or that it’s leading me somewhere. I just exist, no more no less.

I will keep on living to spare my parents the grief of losing their child, but if it wasn’t for them, I don’t think I’d find an other reason to keep walking this planet. I have nothing special, peculiar to give this world.
Like I said, I will keep on living for the sake of my parents, but that’s about it. There is no joy, no goal. I lost everything. I am an empty shell. I am alive yet lifeless.

I was doing alright.

I was doing alright.

And then suddenly I wasn’t anymore.

You are out, enjoying yourself. I’m crying, cannot bear any company.

Wow, you sure cared about me, I can tell.

I’m tired of it all. Too tired. I don’t want to fight anymore, I don’t want to defend you anymore. I don’t want to go to Ikea and think about the time you promised we’d go together one day anymore.

I cannot fight anymore, I’m too tired.

Teach me how you erased me from your thoughts so fast.

Please leave my heart. You never wanted to inhabit it anyway.

 

Rain on my cheeks

I was feeling better this morning. Sure, I still had that throbbing sense of sadness in my chest, but it seemed like the thunder cloud above my head coloured one shade less grey.
This afternoon I even went for an ice-cream with my mom. I couldn’t bear watching her torment herself about the possible causes of my depression anymore, so I confessed everything (okay, so it did involve some sugarcoating) while idly stirring the remainder of my melting sundae. She took it quite well, or at least, I felt she was relieved she could finally stick a label on the possible roots of my issues.
Despite the semi-panic attack at the parlour, I genuinely enjoyed being outdoors for a bit, and even opted to watch a movie with her this evening.

I’m guessing someone out there felt my cloud was being too bright for this time of year.

My mind became aware of the fact that I am not ranked high on anyone’s list.

A little past 1h30 a.m., while participating in the usual screen-staring, a sudden tsunami of intense sadness/hopelessness/loneliness washed over me. Reason: my mind became aware of the fact that I am not ranked high on anyone’s list of importance. Sure, I have a few friends and colleague-friends I occasionally interact with, but when push comes to shove, I am not one of their concerns; I am simply convenient at times. But the real smack in the face was the realization that the person whom I consider a confidant and good friend (even post-break up) – a “false support”, my therapist calls it – made me feel like I was/am entertaining as long as no one better’s around.

And so I started crying, no, weeping, uncontrollably for about an hour. For the past two weeks the urge to cry had been blocked by the anti-depressants, but this time the feeling was so overwhelming that I couldn’t stop sobbing, even after I ran out of tears, curling up in a ball until my pillow was damp and my abdominal muscles were aching.

It’s about 4 a.m. right now. I’ve calmed down, but my overthinking brain is still taunting me. I keep thinking that for once I just want someone I deeply care for to say that they miss me, or that they care about me. I just need a hug and a reassurance that everything’s going to be fine. That I’m worth it and that I -am- important to them. For once, let that person make me feel special; I don’t care if it’s just make-belief.
Because right now, I just feel like pulling the covers over my head and never attempt getting up again.

No anti-depressants tonight

I’ll try not to take any pills tonight. I already cried half an hour ago, so let’s see how it goes. I don’t have work tomorrow, so if I want, I can be an emotional wreck all day*. For shits and giggles.
(*OK, actually no, since I have to keep up the pretense for the parents. Ahhh, why am I not living alone…)

I noticed one improved when taking Xanax (well, apart from feeling happily numb): I can eat! And it even tastes pretty okay!

But I do realize I cannot keep on raiding my mom’s medicine cabinet without her noticing after awhile. So I’m kinda hoping they’ll prescribe some anti-anxiety pills, or sleeping pills, or whatever. Because whoever thinks I’ll be able to go through this period without something to numb thoughts and feelings is a freaking moron.

Stealing sleeping pills and lying about it, plus relying on them to get through the day: hurray, I’m turning into my grandma. *sour laugh*

I have a headache from crying, and there are still tears rolling down my cheeks.
A few minutes ago I had trouble breathing and I felt like throwing up.

I feel like shit.

Please just let me get some sleep. I need to work on a cake tomorrow, and I still have so much other stuff to do as well.

This vacation has sucked so much. Maybe I should just keep on working so I won’t have time to think or feel. For days now I’ve been lying in bed.

I don’t feel like doing anything. I don’t like doing anything anymore. Hobbies have become chores, friends have become chores, family has become chores.

The more I sleep the more tired I become. I cannot keep on doing this.