Is this all it is?
I feel like life ends up being a weirdly periodic cycle of asking for change, receiving the change, and regretting it. I basically begged to change this mindset, even considering electrocuting my brain recently – but now when faced with that possibility I feel horrible.
I was biking back from class, and I was thinking about how I genuinely believe no one reads this and the same about my status on Discord. I wanted so badly for people to acknowledge and read this stuff, but now when faced with the possible reality that people whom I wished for do, I feel bad? I don’t get it. Shouldn’t this be something happy, shouldn’t I go cry in a field and listen to sonder piano? I just don’t get it.
Why is it so comfortable to believe that no one cares about me, while also wishing for that to change? I sit here with a blank, as I don’t know what to just vomit onto this entry – I feel like I could talk about the realistic reasons (childhood, duh) or the romanticization of suicide, but I also don’t want to concern anyone as I am nowhere considering that as an option.
I guess I just don’t know why I feel bad about this. I would normally sit here throwing a pity party all for myself, all while harboring resentment I was too cowardly to bring up. But I still don’t even know if coward is the right word, as I feel like I don’t want to burden people with things I can maybe deal with on my own. It’s weird to think I’ve come full circle to the ‘toxic’ ideology of “bottle it up”.
I guess I could vent about how stupid I feel in hindsight, or I guess more angry regarding thoughts I’ve held. Anxiety would constantly remind me how even with one of the only people I’ve felt comfortable going out of my way to ask, they wouldn’t read this blog. I don’t know if that’s even true anymore, as they said they have read it all. I honestly don’t know how much I believe that, mostly due to the fact I can’t prove it, and how I can also come up with numerous “proofs” on why they’re lying to me, or other hurtful outcomes.
Maybe I am addicted to feeling miserable? Maybe I’ve had the potential to feel loved all this time, I just want to stay the same child trying to cry on the bathroom floor for all these years. What a miserable cycle, that always ends in the same place. God, I’m frustrated; I guess I don’t want a happy life bad enough.