I honestly don't know what's up with me. It could be depression. In fact, it's probably the most likely thing.
I've been strong for so goddamn long. SO long... years. Forever. I can't remember a time where I didn't have to pretend everything was okay. Fuck. That was NEVER an option. I grew up too fast, I had to mature quickly. Too much shit went down in my childhood. In my entire life. I felt like I was middle-aged when I was a teenager. Now I feel like I'm old enough to just lay down and let the earth take me. But FEEL. I can't even comprehend that word anymore. I don't feel. I am empty, emotionless. There's a black hole in my core and it's sucking everything away. Maybe it has something to do with current life situations, anniversaries of traumatic shit coming up soon, whatever. I just feel so... gone. Fuck I even turned back to my old habits of scratching the fuck out of my arms just so I can FEEL something... anything.
I'm tired of being strong. I'm tired of saying "I'm okay" just because if I'm NOT okay, my entire family will fall apart at the seams. It's been a heavy burden, and I've shouldered it because I can't let that happen to the only two people who have been there for me through everything. And even through all the lack of emotion, something comes through. One thing I never thought I would ever experience because I'm so used to being strong and pushing aside feelings about myself in favor of focusing on other people.
Self-hatred. A revelation. I hate everything I am. I hate how I let myself go and I'm... squishy. I'm nocturnal because the nightmares keep me up in night's darkness and I'm too fucking scared to sleep until the sun comes up. I hate that about myself too. I hate that I have anxiety disorders and I can't get a job because of them. I hate that I feel like I'm a horrible girlfriend for being "trauma-induced asexual" as I call it because I have no idea what the hell else to refer to it as. I hate being stuck in this human body, trapped behind the bars of promises made in order to protect me. Promises not to hurt myself... I hate those promises sometimes, so very much. I hate being me. I want to be someone else... or gone.
I'm exhausted. I've grown weary of this joke of a life. Growing up continually losing everything over and over again. Poor male influences on my life everywhere I turn, from lack of a father to molestation by my best friend. It's a wonder I trust ANYBODY anymore. Why should I? Being homeless repeatedly for the past twelve years. I'm tired. I'm tired of trying. And failing... at every turn. I hate myself for failing so much. But I'd hate myself even more for giving up. I can't win in my own eyes. Maybe I need help. Most certainly it seems so. But insurance is an expensive hellion and I can't afford it. Prozac, my old friend... I miss you. I would give anything just to feel... something but the self-loathing. But it's a cycle of hatred and then utter emptiness. Repeating over and over with no end in sight.
I can't take any severe action against myself... because I made a promise. I keep promises. I'm alone and empty... and I can't help but wonder if the black hole inside me is just going to consume everything or if I'll be able to pull away soon and go back to my ever-cheerful facade. Even faking it is better than being completely... THIS.