I realise the irony as I lay here, listening to you apologise. The same phrases as before come out of your mouth.
"I didn't mean to"... "it wont happen again"..."I love you"
You're almost in tears. Normally that's my cue to forgive you. To hold you and comfort you...
but the irony is still tugging too hard today.
I wish I could get angry at you for it, but I can't. I've no energy left to even point out the fact that every time you do it you say it wont happen again, let alone shout, or cry, or tell you to go.
I sigh and roll over.
Your hand pulls on my shoulder. You need me to forgive you.
It hurts you so much inside, does it? It hurts you ... wow, just - wow.
Your selfishness is apparently contagious, because I can't be selfless now. I can't cuddle you and say "It's okay"...
I know they say that it's better to ask for forgiveness than to ask permission... but by giving you forgiveness I seem to just be giving you permission to do it again.
You're like a child.
A child who does wrong and is forgiven never learns.
Some how you remind me of those fathers who abuse their children and then cry and beg their forgiveness...
it's pitiful.
A grown man shouldn't cry. Not like this. Not for no good reason.
Women cry for no reason. Even that's deplorable in my opinion.
But for a man to cry over not being forgiven..?
I could understand if it was life changing. Not being forgiven for something big, that they really didn't mean to do - a true accident... that's understandable.
But for you to abuse me, then cry about me not saying it's alright...?
I can see the pain welling up in you, and all I can think is that you deserve it.
Why should you be allowed to live with yourself if I can't live with myself because of you?
Why should you have more right than me to feel whole, and well, and human?
You don't seem to realise how much of me you have ripped away by your constant blows - emotional, physical and mental. You don't seem to care that while you beg my forgiveness I'm still red and bruising from what you've just done.
I used to cry when you did these things to me.
Now I just turn off and hide somewhere deep inside myself.
That way it doesn't hurt so much.
You seem to think that because I'm not crying I'm okay.
I'm not.
I'll never be okay.
Not now.
Thank you... you complete ass hole... for destroying me...
The thoughts of pain and disgust swirl around me, but you're still right behind me as I lay turned away from you. Still persistent. Still crying my name, begging now..
"It's okay." I finally say. The tears start to leak from my own eyes now.
Damn it.
Your arm comes around me and you bury your face in my back in relief.
You either don't notice, or ignore, the stiffness in me.
It's exhausting just laying here with you.
It feels like dying... like suffocating...
I guess the hardest part about my 'depression' is explaining it.
Depression doesn't actually have a real cause. It just pops up. My friend doesn't think it's an excuse for me feeling shit - and to be fair, it isn't... it's just the word to describe the feeling.
"Depression is not an excuse!" he'll say to me when he's frustrated.
and I agree with him... just like I used to forgive him... because it's what I do.
I put me aside and agree to what ever other people want.
Okay, so I do agree that it's not an excuse... it's just that I don't think I use it as one. He seems to think I do.
The thing is, he got over his depression... I just manage to keep my bearable.
I don't know how to get over it.
It's not like a mountain you have to climb over. It's not something you can set a goal and slowly work your way towards. It's not something you can map the progression of.
It's a feeling, and a well of memories. I turn my back on my past, and it just bites me in the bum. It drags me back towards it, clawing me under...
I was feeling rather low the other day, and my flatmate copied out the chorus of P!nk's new song "Fuckin' Perfect" in a note to me.
I was fine till I read that.
Then I broke down into a flood of tears that wouldn't stop. At all.
The thing is, I tell Li all the time that he's perfect... and I really see him that way. I know I shouldn't... but I do. For someone else to say those words to me - even if it was just a quoted song - hit me over the head like a sledgehammer.
"Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel like you're nothing, you're fuckin' perfect to me."
My brain screamed back at those words - you're wrong! I AM nothing.
I spend so much time trying to convince myself that I'm not the best thing in the universe sometimes... yet my gut reaction is always that I'm worthless. Why is that?
How can I think that I'm so great, but if someone says that I'm good I get pushed off my feet and can't understand what they're saying? How come I can't accept that other people might have a good opinion of me?
I got so used to fighting the world, and proving to myself that I had worth without them... it's as if my self worth is supported by their dislike of me. I can somehow stand against people, prove that I'm amazing and good, that I'm worth more than a million of them... but only if they don't see it. The second someone see's me as anything other than useless, rubbish, annoying, disgusting... the moment they recognise something more in me... more than the kids when I was growing up saw... more than a girl to be used under the pretence of love... more than a human punching bag... more than just an annoying hanger on... more than just that weirdo who plays piano... more than an outcast... the second they see me as valuable I fall flat on my face, and can't find my own self worth anywhere.
It's like when Libor said that he looked up to me.
That still just does not compute. And not just because he's taller than me.
The words knocked the breath out of me when I first read them.
I don't know how to be accepted. I don't understand what it means to be loved by anyone other than my family. It just doesn't compute. I can't get my head around what people can actually see in me.
I always say I don't care what people think of me.
In a way, it isn't true. It's more than no one used to think anything of me - and if they did it wasn't in a good way... so I learnt to not think of them either.
I see someone look at me and I turn away with an air of "fuck you" because I assume they're looking at me critically, thinking of something horrible to say.
Call me paranoid, but experience has taught me that in everyone else's opinion I'm a disgusting excuse for a human being, and should be made aware of my own physical unattractiveness as often as possible.
That sounds so melodramatic reading it back... but I'm pretty sure those are words a majority of people have paraphrased through out my life.
Maybe I just grew up around really horrible people...?
I don't know.
But the only time people were nice to me (before University) was if they were setting me up to be the butt of a joke.
It makes you suspicious.
Hell, if people come on to me on nights out I assume it's as a joke among friends.
Yeah... you're probably right about the paranoia thing.
Thing is, I really value my friends opinions.
So, this is me, sitting here, slowly trying to readjust my ideas of who I am.
Trying to work out how to keep up the fight against a world that has stopped fighting me.
Trying to make myself believe all the stuff I've always told everyone else.
And trying to work out why people have hurt me so much if I'm what my friends say I am.
How do you convince yourself that you're worth so much when people have always treated you as worthless and usable?
Hmm... I'm sure there's a way.
Enough emo drivel. Time to crack on with the essay of poetical doom.
Blessed Be xxx
"I didn't mean to"... "it wont happen again"..."I love you"
You're almost in tears. Normally that's my cue to forgive you. To hold you and comfort you...
but the irony is still tugging too hard today.
I wish I could get angry at you for it, but I can't. I've no energy left to even point out the fact that every time you do it you say it wont happen again, let alone shout, or cry, or tell you to go.
I sigh and roll over.
Your hand pulls on my shoulder. You need me to forgive you.
It hurts you so much inside, does it? It hurts you ... wow, just - wow.
Your selfishness is apparently contagious, because I can't be selfless now. I can't cuddle you and say "It's okay"...
I know they say that it's better to ask for forgiveness than to ask permission... but by giving you forgiveness I seem to just be giving you permission to do it again.
You're like a child.
A child who does wrong and is forgiven never learns.
Some how you remind me of those fathers who abuse their children and then cry and beg their forgiveness...
it's pitiful.
A grown man shouldn't cry. Not like this. Not for no good reason.
Women cry for no reason. Even that's deplorable in my opinion.
But for a man to cry over not being forgiven..?
I could understand if it was life changing. Not being forgiven for something big, that they really didn't mean to do - a true accident... that's understandable.
But for you to abuse me, then cry about me not saying it's alright...?
I can see the pain welling up in you, and all I can think is that you deserve it.
Why should you be allowed to live with yourself if I can't live with myself because of you?
Why should you have more right than me to feel whole, and well, and human?
You don't seem to realise how much of me you have ripped away by your constant blows - emotional, physical and mental. You don't seem to care that while you beg my forgiveness I'm still red and bruising from what you've just done.
I used to cry when you did these things to me.
Now I just turn off and hide somewhere deep inside myself.
That way it doesn't hurt so much.
You seem to think that because I'm not crying I'm okay.
I'm not.
I'll never be okay.
Not now.
Thank you... you complete ass hole... for destroying me...
The thoughts of pain and disgust swirl around me, but you're still right behind me as I lay turned away from you. Still persistent. Still crying my name, begging now..
"It's okay." I finally say. The tears start to leak from my own eyes now.
Damn it.
Your arm comes around me and you bury your face in my back in relief.
You either don't notice, or ignore, the stiffness in me.
It's exhausting just laying here with you.
It feels like dying... like suffocating...
I guess the hardest part about my 'depression' is explaining it.
Depression doesn't actually have a real cause. It just pops up. My friend doesn't think it's an excuse for me feeling shit - and to be fair, it isn't... it's just the word to describe the feeling.
"Depression is not an excuse!" he'll say to me when he's frustrated.
and I agree with him... just like I used to forgive him... because it's what I do.
I put me aside and agree to what ever other people want.
Okay, so I do agree that it's not an excuse... it's just that I don't think I use it as one. He seems to think I do.
The thing is, he got over his depression... I just manage to keep my bearable.
I don't know how to get over it.
It's not like a mountain you have to climb over. It's not something you can set a goal and slowly work your way towards. It's not something you can map the progression of.
It's a feeling, and a well of memories. I turn my back on my past, and it just bites me in the bum. It drags me back towards it, clawing me under...
I was feeling rather low the other day, and my flatmate copied out the chorus of P!nk's new song "Fuckin' Perfect" in a note to me.
I was fine till I read that.
Then I broke down into a flood of tears that wouldn't stop. At all.
The thing is, I tell Li all the time that he's perfect... and I really see him that way. I know I shouldn't... but I do. For someone else to say those words to me - even if it was just a quoted song - hit me over the head like a sledgehammer.
"Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel like you're nothing, you're fuckin' perfect to me."
My brain screamed back at those words - you're wrong! I AM nothing.
I spend so much time trying to convince myself that I'm not the best thing in the universe sometimes... yet my gut reaction is always that I'm worthless. Why is that?
How can I think that I'm so great, but if someone says that I'm good I get pushed off my feet and can't understand what they're saying? How come I can't accept that other people might have a good opinion of me?
I got so used to fighting the world, and proving to myself that I had worth without them... it's as if my self worth is supported by their dislike of me. I can somehow stand against people, prove that I'm amazing and good, that I'm worth more than a million of them... but only if they don't see it. The second someone see's me as anything other than useless, rubbish, annoying, disgusting... the moment they recognise something more in me... more than the kids when I was growing up saw... more than a girl to be used under the pretence of love... more than a human punching bag... more than just an annoying hanger on... more than just that weirdo who plays piano... more than an outcast... the second they see me as valuable I fall flat on my face, and can't find my own self worth anywhere.
It's like when Libor said that he looked up to me.
That still just does not compute. And not just because he's taller than me.
The words knocked the breath out of me when I first read them.
I don't know how to be accepted. I don't understand what it means to be loved by anyone other than my family. It just doesn't compute. I can't get my head around what people can actually see in me.
I always say I don't care what people think of me.
In a way, it isn't true. It's more than no one used to think anything of me - and if they did it wasn't in a good way... so I learnt to not think of them either.
I see someone look at me and I turn away with an air of "fuck you" because I assume they're looking at me critically, thinking of something horrible to say.
Call me paranoid, but experience has taught me that in everyone else's opinion I'm a disgusting excuse for a human being, and should be made aware of my own physical unattractiveness as often as possible.
That sounds so melodramatic reading it back... but I'm pretty sure those are words a majority of people have paraphrased through out my life.
Maybe I just grew up around really horrible people...?
I don't know.
But the only time people were nice to me (before University) was if they were setting me up to be the butt of a joke.
It makes you suspicious.
Hell, if people come on to me on nights out I assume it's as a joke among friends.
Yeah... you're probably right about the paranoia thing.
Thing is, I really value my friends opinions.
So, this is me, sitting here, slowly trying to readjust my ideas of who I am.
Trying to work out how to keep up the fight against a world that has stopped fighting me.
Trying to make myself believe all the stuff I've always told everyone else.
And trying to work out why people have hurt me so much if I'm what my friends say I am.
How do you convince yourself that you're worth so much when people have always treated you as worthless and usable?
Hmm... I'm sure there's a way.
Enough emo drivel. Time to crack on with the essay of poetical doom.
Blessed Be xxx
