I’m not great at starting new ventures. Changes are not my favorite thing.
Especially after the year I had. Since last August, I have been rolling down a hill. This is a metaphor for depression, bad luck, shitty experiences. Etc. Etc.
I have been ashamed, chosen second, lied to and so much of my identity compromised that I felt the need to keep everything close to my chest. I don’t feel like opening up anymore. I don’t even feel like being myself which is incredibly sweet and open hearted. I tried to say sorry enough to fix everything but sometimes it doesn’t work. I know that from experience.
I know that after I was raped, sorries never worked. After abuse, sorries were bullshit. After pain and heartbreak, cheating and scandal, sorry is the last thing you want to hear. I wanted to prove that I have changed but as soon as I went on my path to recovery, the people I said sorry to, closed the door behind me. It was hurtful. Like kicking a dog you no longer want. No matter how much it wants you or loves you, because it bit you back, you still threw it out.
I wanted to change. Not for them anymore but for myself. Not for people to break me so down. I never wanted to be in that position of shame ever again.
I decided to expect nothing from people anymore. I used to think highly of everyone I meet. Fuck that noise. I am going to just move on from that quiet kindness and say, “Fuck off more often.”
I couldn’t believe how much I wanted to close off the world. Truth be told, I wanted to do worse things. Drink too much, eat too much, or swallow enough pills. It was depression trying to push me off a ledge.
Actual clinical depression. Not some tumblr phobia we think of when life gets at us. Anxiety and depression rule my fucking life. Especially this last year. They were running the controls.
It was either him running the controls whereas disgust, joy, or anger would be quiet for now since I couldn’t be angry for too long or disgusted for too long or joyful for too long. Anxiety and fear ran the place and when those moments lasted for days and months, anxiety called its one true friend.
I cried almost every day. I could be making food. Then, tears would flow. I couldn’t stop feeling these things. I couldn’t stop it. No matter how much I tried. No matter how much I begged her to be strong.
So I decided that fuck off is my favorite phrase. Let rage come in but not fiery Lewis Black but cynic rage.
- doesn’t believe in people
- expect the least out of people
- protect me first and always
- be honest and true even in pain.
- who the fuck gives a crap if people don’t stay
- fuck off. I don’t give a shit.