Crazy

3 12 2011

I want to write.

It’s been so long, time has moved so fast that often I wonder if soon everything will be over and there will be no new times to look forward too. So much has happened, so many dreams came to life and I threw them away, so many times of happiness and sadness that I cannot get back and I didn’t write about them – didn’t bring them alive through my words.

I was loved. Truly loved. I made him go away.

A year of life summed up in that sentence. A year of my life that I cannot talk about in more words as I don’t have them to explain. He tried so hard to love the unlovable, he tried so hard to break down my barriers. I couldn’t do it, my craziness took on a new edge as I felt stifled, confused, trapped. My anger took sinister turns as I pushed and pushed and finally made him leave. The coldness of my soul was put before him in all its evil glory.

He used to call me the ‘Queen of words’ because he felt so many of mine were untrue. It always struck me as odd, as my life has always been one big lie and when I tried to tell him the truth that too was judged as a lie. And me, this Queen of words, never found it in herself to write even though I tried so many times.

After he left I sought help, I knew I had needed it for a long time but I made myself gain the courage to ask. I was diagnosed with Pure O – a form of OCD. Some of it fits but not all. The medication started, and it helped me to live normally, it took the edge of life, of my feelings and worries but it also took the edge off me, it killed the thinking that drove me to this late night blog. Pain, happiness and sensitivity were numbed. Everyone told me how good I seemed, how happy I seemed. I made new friends, I started to carve out the career that I had let flounder for so long. I was living, but I was not real.

It’s only now, 18 months on, after a week not taking those little white emotion killers, after an evening drinking red wine and thinking about the new person in my life that I opened up this blank white page and started to fill it with words.

I want to talk, I want to talk so much, but when I talk I want someone to listen, I want someone to try and understand what makes me the way I am – try and understand my past and the mistakes I have made. I want to come clean, I want to talk in the dead of the night and be heard but still loved in the daytime. Please God, I want someone to see and know the truth but accept me anyway. I’m crazy, a little more each day.

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Acceptance

29 09 2008

My blogs lately have been depressing. I have no doubt that people who are reading are sick of hearing me bleat on about the situation I have put myself in … after all it was me that quit my job, its me that found my running shoes early in life and kept on running, and its me that’s running now.

I’ll be packing up the car in the next week and driving the 6 hours or so down to Southern Spain to look for what comes next. With nothing except one months wages, my few possessions and a heavy heart I’ll set off, but I know as the miles pass between here and there I will change, I will bit by bit forget about all that I am leaving and think only of the possibility of the unknown.

My life has changed drastically in three weeks. Nothing I do really surprises me anymore.

Fran paid me a visit last night, as you probably gathered from my last post. Fran doesn’t love me, nor does he know me in any other way apart from sexually. But he keeps me company sometimes and I am grateful for the affection in times of need. He asked me why I was moving and for some reason when I replied the obvious ‘because I have nothing here’ I found my eyes welling up, I fought back the tears and was thankful for the darkness so he couldn’t see. But its true, not having anything has always been a balm to me but it suddenly became such a sad statement to make.

I am 27, I have been lost for a long time and with no hope of ever being found or showed love I am finally admitting that I need to stop looking for change within myself. I am not a good person, my temper is quick, my moods legendry, I am selfish, I make mistakes at every corner. This is how I am, and people like me need to make an alternative life – we need not to put ourselves in situations where we can hurt or upset people.

I need to stop caring when I have done wrong. You see I know I am moody, I know I am over the top in my temper tantrums, my irritability is monstrous but I am always thinking I want to change and each time I do not I beat myself up, and now as I leave and I realise that nobody really cares if I am here or not I do not have many people to say goodbye too, not people who will wave me off and swap fake promises of keeping in touch. So this is it, this is my problem, I need to not keep trying to change who I am, I need to accept that I am always going to be this way that goodness is not something I will possess and find a life in which I can be a solitary being so I can cause the least amount of hurt in this world as possible.