It’s not an excuse.

I doubt you’ll ever read this, but it makes no difference because you don’t have the respect for me to really listen to what I have to say in the first place. (Sure, you might read the words, but you won’t put in the effort to digest them or consider my point of view.)

So, I know there’s no point in me trying to say it directly anymore; in person, you just manipulate the conversation so that you’re controlling it and everything is about you or about how terrible everyone else in my life is. If it’s through messaging, you won’t take the time to understand what my words are saying before deflecting them, either saying I’m victimizing you because you have a certain mental illness or deflecting them so that they become an attack on someone else.


The thing is, admitting you have an illness doesn’t mean anything if you’re using it as an excuse for being a self-centred asshole while neglecting to take any action or put any effort into treating and/or managing the symptoms you seem to think make you immune to criticism or even differing opinions. You don’t get to say “I’m autistic, I have an overly addictive personality, etc” and receive automatic immunity from literally everyone who disagrees with you or is offended by anything you say.


What is that saying about those of us who work so extremely hard to manage our struggles? What even is the point of admitting you have a problem if you’re showing absolutely no signs of any attempt to get better? Is it just to manipulate everyone into feeling sorry for you, because it sure as hell feels like that’s what you’ve been doing to me for god even knows how long at this point. Then, once I feel sorry for you, I let you get away with things that normally would be utterly repulsive. It’s not constructive, it’s not healthy, it’s straight up toxic.

You’re not doing anything to make yourself better, you’re just tossing me around and making me worse despite my efforts to manage my own mental illness as much as I can.


You encourage my developing alcoholism, using alcohol as an incentive for me to hang out with you at your house. You belittle my struggles because I’m able to manage my symptoms better than you are (no doubt because I put serious effort into identifying my own patterns of behaviour and doing my absolute best to correct the irrational ones before they spiral out of hand). You’ve invaded every group of friends I have and you somehow inevitably manage to create drama and destroy the safe space for everyone. You’ve dug yourself so deeply into my life that I can’t get away, not without giving up such a huge and meaningful part of my life.

I’ve tried so hard to keep my distance, to not interact, but it’s never enough. You always find a way to torment me, to baffle me with frustration and anger and hopelessness until next thing I know I’m sitting alone in a dark room drinking straight from the bottle despite having just gone a significant amount of time without using any kind of mind altering substance as a coping mechanism.

As long as you’re around, I fear I might never actually get better.




Hell, you don’t even let me have a single conversation without taking over the whole thing and changing the topic to YOU.

And I’m honestly at a loss. I’m not willing to give up my passion just because you happen to also be a member of our charity group, I can’t just block you and run away. I’ve tried confronting you and I don’t even know how you guilt me into apologizing for being in the wrong when you’re so clearly the toxic one.

This isn’t the first time I’ve had my mind fucked with by someone like you, but the problem is I don’t know how many times I can survive being around this before I break.


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You Will. You Will? You Will.

All I can hear is the truth in the song right now, as enough weeks went by that I stopped fidgeting over whether you were avoiding me, stopped letting the silence bother me at all, and here you are, finally being the one to talk first… So I guess I waited long enough to know I was right to think that if I mattered you’d eventually come back, but the thing is, I waited long enough to also learn that there are better people out there.


The funny thing is, those weeks of silence pushed me toward them; in a roundabout way I might even have you to thank for the Thanksgiving at the Tavern with friends I haven’t seen in a very long time, although I’m not going to thank you for it. In fact, I’m taking all of the credit for taking the initiative to reach out and mend an old bridge, because I’m the one who did everything to make that happen.

I’m not giving anyone credit for doing nothing and coincidentally causing me to reflect on my thoughts and act in a certain way; I don’t believe that’s a very, well, healthy way of thinking.

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Feels like the past few weeks have been somewhat of a shitshow… Not that there haven’t been good moments; there definitely have been a few of those, but they’re so separated from the big picture that it’s hard to focus on them.

The good times are the ones where I’m too distracted to think about responsibilities, where I’m too busy to fret over homework, where I’m not alone with my thoughts or ruled by anxiety.

They’re not what I need to write about, though; but really, are they ever?

I’ve been drowning, constantly feeling like I’m in over my head with one of my classes; I’ve got no idea what’s going on, like, at all, but even if I wasn’t prevented from asking for help by my pervasive anxiety, I’m still not sure I understand even enough of the material to know where to start with questions… Then, we got a take-home exam that was due today, only I haven’t done a single problem.

Conveniently, the test was assigned maybe 2 days before my grandmother passed away, so the whole week we were supposed to work on it, I was out of town on one of the most surreal trips of my life… I haven’t been in the mindset to put forth the effort to bullshit my way through any portion of the test. I’m not sure I will be for quite a while.

Anyway. I’m going to write something else about Grandma when it feels right, and I don’t think today is that day.

tumblr_ovc447vmVO1vj8ggto2_400While the absurdity of those events processes, I still have my own life to deal with, and I just don’t feel like that’s something I can do on my own (and right now, I feel more alone than I have for a long time). I don’t know what to say to my professor about not being able to do that test; I get that the logical thing is to ask for an extension due to circumstances beyond my control, but I don’t think an extension is what I really need. I’ve been so lost in this class that I’m sure there’s no way that I could possibly catch up at this point, and honestly, I just don’t have the motivation to try.

But then, I don’t know what to write in my statement requesting to withdraw from the class, seeing as I missed the deadline by literally a day because the last day to withdraw from classes happened to be the day of my flight back home. I don’t want to have to ask my professor for a signature of approval to drop the class; I physically can’t bring myself to admit that I’m a failure, which is exactly what asking him to sign that form equates to.

So, I’ve done nothing. I skipped class without saying a word, neglected to attempt to make any progress on either the test or the statement, and spent the day cleaning and preparing for my other classes, trying not to think about how alone I am right now.


Even though I have friends, I can’t really talk to them about any of this… Either I can’t bring myself to burden them, or they simply just don’t get it. In not knowing what to say, they brush me off, make things feel worse. And then, my family isn’t exactly available for obvious reasons.

I shouldn’t need anyone, though. I know what I need to do in theory; just, why can’t I bring myself to do any of it?

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Inexplicable energy

I never talk to you because too much exposure makes me feel sick and uncomfortable.

We get along okay in small doses, but for some reason that one day of getting along well turns into insistence on spending way too much time around me on your part, and I really just have no idea how to handle it.

Continue reading

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Nothing is real;

At least, that’s how life seems right now.

Hurricanes, mass shootings, and a political climate full of turmoil, confusion, and distractions. I want to feel sad, but I’m starting to just feel like I don’t have enough money to donate to all of the causes springing up left and right, and I’m in my own isolated little box where none of it really impacts me directly, anyway. I’m just so tired of seeing it everywhere…


I mean, I’m still stuck in my own head right now. I’m still trying to sort through that chaos… I’m still trying to find a cure for my own pent up feelings of loneliness, spite, self-loathing, and general melancholy.

So when you texted me this morning that it was a bad day because of the shooting, I just put on a face and offered support, once again throwing honesty out the window.

I didn’t care so much that you had thought about going to the show; to be honest, once I read it was a country music concert, it just reminded me about this long standing thing I hate about you. How you’re not anything that I want you to be and yet somehow I’m still here talking to you and leading things along. We can be friends and I’ll be supportive while still silently judging you, but that’s the problem, this isn’t that simple.

In fact, everything about the two of us makes about as much sense as 95% of the things you say, which always basically leave me doing this:


Sometimes I just suspect I’m so bored and lost that I just stick around to play mind games as a form of entertainment, or maybe it’s just as a distraction from all of the things going on in my head that I don’t want to deal with…


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Unspoken thoughts


I want to tell you just how hard I’ve been working to get better; I wish you knew just how incredibly difficult it is for me to accept that you care.

I just don’t know if there’s a way to show you that; I can’t make you experience the same things I have, I can’t make you feel what I go through every time I bite my tongue and hold my breath, using every ounce of willpower not to lash out at you for having good intentions.

Every time I slip up and lash out, I beat myself up for days on end because it feels like all of that effort I’ve put into preventing this from happening was completely in vain. Like I’ll never be good enough for anyone, because no matter how hard I try, there’s too much damage there and I can’t keep it under control…

And nobody sees the effort behind the good days. There’s such a tremendous amount of energy being poured into simply appearing normal every day, and it goes completely unnoticed. (Of course, there’s nothing surprising about this fact, I’m sure there is just as much effort put forth by others that I’m equally unaware of, but regardless, it wears me out.)

What does get noticed, of course, are the intermittent failures. The few times when I’ve worn myself out too much and one little thing happens and I slip back into the habit of lashing out. I let my instinct take over and I begin to push people away, and by the time I can finally get myself together, the damage is already done.

And of course, on the flipside, I’m not completely and intimately aware of what’s going on in your mind; I may not be noticing the vastness of your efforts, either, although I appreciate any opportunity to attempt to understand.

What is clear to me, though, is that there is a very significant meaning to the fact that I’ve been putting in such a tremendous amount of effort to keep someone around where oftentimes I wouldn’t even think of it, or if I did, I’d almost certainly let my fear prevent me from actually doing anything.

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just words.

Imagine the sound of crackling flames, burning toward the sky as they manifest;

The destructive burning of a broken soul crawling through rigged tunnels

Where each cut hurts but never quite in the same way and never quite for the same reason,

Yet somehow they bear identical resemblance.

Every sorrow a devastation and every victory an impulse of pure passion lighting up the world until it runs out, leaving in its place a small burn

Painful to the touch but reminiscent of the heat of the moments where moderation can never exist

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Relative shifts

tumblr_okyurrrPwT1vlci76o2_400Everything gets lost in a fog of clarity.

You tell me things because you want help and I make you feel better.

This works because I don’t do the same.

I hide things because I don’t want to be bothered.

I don’t want you to make it worse.

I don’t even know how long you’ll be around;

“Always” and “Forever” are just words to fill space.

Filling space unless, of course, describing the relative time I will spend, in some sense, completely alone.

You say I’ll always have you, but I only ever really needed alcohol.

I only ever really need something to numb this existential angst and lack of purpose sitting in wait to strike again at any moment.

I only ever really need to forget that existence is, well, real.

To stop living in my own head as an outsider on the fringe of it.

Such was true before I met you, and it’s true now, and it’ll be true tomorrow.

I would never expect you to understand what I see, how I feel, or my habit of trying to analyze as much as possible that which has no logic behind it.

No, this would never work if I did.

It only works, truly, because I’m not worse off with you here.

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It’s “training week” this week, as if somehow what we do this week prepares us for teaching classes. (Maybe it would, if we didn’t have literally 3 hours of constantly being lectured and not moving, but I sure can’t retain much information when presented that way.)


Then, to make things better, nearly everyone I had gotten to know over the past year is gone; they’ve graduated, transferred, or simply dropped out. And with all of the new students coming in, the dynamic of the department has completely shifted around…

Now, I’m the only graduate student in the department who is not a cisgendered male; maybe it won’t be that weird, but right now, it definitely makes things feel a tad uncomfortable.

Not to mention I’m way behind on the stuff I was supposed to do to prepare to actually graduate and my social anxiety is really bad and preventing me from even talking to the people who are supposed to help me out with that. Granted, I’m okay with not graduating, but adopting that attitude doesn’t do much for relieving pressure…

tumblr_n9opsl8LdN1qgg1x6o2_500 So, there’s some inevitable anxiety creeping in the back of my mind right now, and it’s probably not going anywhere any time soon… (If anything, it’ll just shift to the constant anxiety about due dates and time that comes with classwork.) Then, on top of that anxiety, there’s this constant feeling of unease about not being in control, not understanding why this morning I just want to lash out and cry and push everyone away when yesterday I felt okay, even optimistic about having someone around.

Queue the unrelated anxiety:

The thought of being close sounded nice yesterday evening and today it’s taking so much willpower not to lash out and just yell “Don’t fucking touch me!” instead. Maybe it makes sense right now when it’s a naturally chaotic time, but this part isn’t exactly new. It’s just the same pattern I’ve been fighting, amplified with some other stress from other places. It piles on to the mess in my head doing nothing but reminding me of a few unfortunate truths…

Acting out of deliberation seldom manifests when I tell myself I’m going to do something, because it’s acting out of raw, emotional impulse that happens naturally. Even if plans serve as guidelines the core actions are never premeditated; I simply lack the consistency of mental states for that to be possible.

I can’t be a reliable source of support for anyone because I just get tired easy and turn on them… I can put so much effort into trying to convince them it’ll be okay, try so hard to help in any way I can (very often at the sacrifice of my own feelings), and one day I’ll just break. I turn cold, I stop caring, and I just want them to shut the hell up so badly that I don’t even care if it takes death to make it happen. And then, after some amount of time, I flip back, eager to help and caring about them more than anything else in the world, and the cycle continues until someone just leaves.

tumblr_mrcfme9k4q1s8hnhko1_500The whole point is, I just can’t have things the way normal people can. And for a long time it wasn’t an immediate problem because I had gotten so used to being alone, but now that I’m not, all of my symptoms have become so clear. Everything is coming back up to the surface and I’m really afraid of what I’m going to do this time; after all, it’s impossible to really predict the nature or severity of much when constantly acting on nothing but impulse.

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We all have stories, we’ve all struggled with something, we’ve all made choices.

And in one way or another, we are shaped by what we do. What we experience. What we choose to work on.


I’m trying to be open about myself, I’m trying to trust people (the right people) and create the possibility of mutual support. It’s a risk but as I press on I see more and more that it’s a risk worth taking.

Yes, sometimes I trust the wrong person and they try to twist my life around to their own benefit, and every instance of betrayal and deceit and abuse causes more damage, but you know the thing about damaged people? We survived.

No, we’ll never be quite the same, but in the process of recovering we can become stronger. We know we can survive.

And that’s why I’m trying not to let myself run away from a potentially good thing; because it’s worth the risk.

Eventually, there will be someone ready to share their burden, there’ll be someone who will see your struggles and react not with anger or manipulation but with caring. Someone who cares, understands at least enough, someone willing to take your hand and face these struggles together.


And to say we’re perfect would be delusional, but we’re good for each other. You see my damage for what it is, you don’t try to fix what’s beyond your control, you just try to understand. You offer a shoulder to lean on and a safe space.

And then I care, I listen and I try to understand and show nothing but compassion. No pity, no judgment, just reassurance that you do matter to someone; that you really aren’t alone.

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