I am honestly so sick and tired of this feeling.
You know the one you get when you miss that person too damn much but you know you have to get over him because he couldn’t give a rat’s ass if you lived or died?
The one that makes you realize that you’re kind of plain, boring and useless because you aren’t empowered by the fact that someone who isn’t a blood relation cares about and admires you. It’s pretty shitty.
You’re just stuck here feeling even lesser than nothing at all. All the things that used to make you happy in the day doesn’t appeal to you anymore; no books or music. You don’t know what’s going to make you feel better. It’s like pasting plasters on skin when you’d broken a bone and you aren’t even pasting them in the right spot. Like screaming but no one hears you; that itch you can’t seem to scratch.
Worst of all, you didn’t feel this way in the day, hell, you felt like you could have conquered the world with your pinky in the blazing sun. But when night falls you can’t sleep because of this stupid feeling you can’t see to name or put your finger on. The one that tells you to think of the person you love then turns around and scolds you for being so clingy and needy. The one that says ‘Love and trust like you never had!’ then whispers into your ear ‘Are you sure?’
This feeling isn’t depression. I would know that feeling best for it is a close friend who sits with me on my park bench while loneliness, frustration and confusion plays ball nearby.
This feeling really is good for nothing. It has dove into the ocean in search for the shards of my broken heart I had scattered overboard and hoped never to see again. It is determined to bring every little piece back to me, not by hand or a dainty handkerchief, but through multiple paper cut-like scratches on my skin.
I thought the initial heartbreak was the worst of the lot. I thought that if I waited it out, I could quietly sweep up what is left that beats for my soul, toss it away and hope to never feel such agony again. They told me I was making progress, that I was getting better. But they didn’t tell me about this.
The fetching mutt of an emotion that exists solely to bring everything back. The driving force that constantly pulls you back to square one; the snake at the ladder.
I’m fighting it but honestly, I’m getting so, so tired.