cynicalshakespearean

[cynicalshakespearean]

I wish you didn't seem to enjoy hurting me. I'm not sending you back anything in response. I am too tender now. I think I am done at this point.

[cynicalshakespearean]

Ow ow ow ow ow god that stings Jesus Christ.

The begining of the end and I should be happy for it. I knew this was the end. I knew this had to stop. I knew that I was never good enough for anyone and I am just annoying. And not worth air or space or whatever. I am trying not to feel hurt but I guess if I start the heartbreak management now then maybe I'll be functional enough down the line to be your friend again, like what I did before.

I feel like a fucking idiot.

That's probably because I am.

My heart hurts, my chest hurts, I hurt. Who cares

Who cares, I deserve it. I deserve to be hurt this way. I don't deserve anything I have. What a waste of existence I continue to be. Pathetic and worthless and fucking sad.

The world would be so much better if I could find it in myself to just erase my existence and god what a sweet release it would be to just leave my body and float in space.

Happiness is fleeting. It always is for people like me. Everyone leaves. Everything falls through. Everything hurts. I am going to go cry until I stop feeling.

Fuck my whole fucking life.

[cynicalshakespearean]

Therapy therapy therapy journal

Since I can't find a realntherapist

And I don't want to sabotage my friendships by saying all of the crazy stuff

So here it goes

The part where you get sick of me and how insecure I am. And you get tired of reassuring me that you don't hate me and I don't know where everyone will. I just assume that whatever you say to me is impermantent. You could adore me one day and it will be gone the next and I won't know what happened.

God I wish I wasn't so fucking awful

[cynicalshakespearean]

Another sad late night post.

Oh weird secret online journal, what the fuck am I doing?

It's nothing yet but it has already wildly ballooned out of control is just one week.

I am very worried.

I know that what I am doing is bad.

But sitting there, arm in arm, breathing in, being in one place felt so...nice. so calm. Like we are two people adrift at sea, clinging to each other for meaning.

I really care about you as a friend and I don't want to put you in this situation. I care about both of you SO MUCH that the thought of me doing this feels horrible.

We need space. We need actual boundaries. We need to stop it before it heads too far and we ruin each others lives and we won't get to hang out any more or talk any more and that breaks my heart more than anything.

And also, I don't think it's me. I'm the latest, but it's not me. It's the feeling, and I understand that better than anyone. But you have to know she knows. She's not stupid, she has to suspect something is happening and nothing HAS happened yet, but she's gotta know that the potential is there.

[cynicalshakespearean]

I'll just keep typing. I'll just keep typing because you won't respond and you don't care. You don't care. You don't care. Nobody cares.

My whole heart is aching. Full of holes. P

Empty.

I am screaming.

I ruin everything. I am poisonous. I am toxic. I am the worst. I am too difficult. I am undeserving of friendship. I will die alone because that's what I deserve.

I am worthless. I deserve to die.

[cynicalshakespearean]

You legitimately don't even care that I've replaced you as a friend.

Was I that much of a burden? That passing me off to someone else was a relief? Your life is so much better without me? Why the fuck did you even bother to be my friend anyway?

I'm sorry I'm such an exhausting horrible mess. I'm sorry I am such a piece of shit who was so horrible to you.

And like that's sarcasm with a hint of actual sorrow.

Am I sorry I hurt you? Of course.

But it still hurts to know that the dissolution of our friendship means nothing to you. I honestly trusted you. And not in like a weird way or a romantic way, but in a genuine friendship way. We were close. I told you everything. And you don't care. And I guess that's what I deserve.

I depending on you too much. I was too much. I am too much.

I am too much for everyone. And I always will be. Everyone I care about will get tired of my weird insecure bullshit.

[cynicalshakespearean]

Another sad secret diary entry.

I know that this is the beginning of the end for me sometimes. I can feel it. The pull. How my heart feels just a little heavier when you are gone. Not a break, but an aching. Not quite a longing bur more than just an itch. A heaviness. The heaviness that doesn't mean as much as it could, but much much more than it should.

It's dangerous sailing, but that's the exciting part.

I am trying to be good. If I was doing my best to be good though, I'd provide space. Pull away context, keep my feelings locked away until they languished and died. It's better that way, it's safer that way, I can continue that way for however long I need to. It's not sustainable, but it is continuity.

The problem with sticking to one single place is that escaping isn't as easy. Leaving when things get rough and escaping is so much easier.

I will not ruin your happiness. Because I see it there, and it's perfect, and it's everything you want. You deserve to be happy. And I will not ruin my own happiness, because even if I ignore it, it's there. My life. So nice, so good, so stable, so healthy. If it were just me and my life there would be nothing to compare it to, no discontent. Because it is, at it's core, wonderful.

But I am greedy. This is what I mean when I say I am a terrible person. I want everything. But I know that cannot happen. It must not happen. It would only bring down a world of trouble. So now I am faced with the choice: do I continue along, keeping everything intact and just hope I have the self control to realize my situation? Or do I create space again, and cut off what friendships I do have to make sure that I stay good? Where is the line inf friendship? How do I keep that firm and show people they mean something to me without having to change context?

Why is my only value what other people see in me romantically?

I wish I felt worthy enough for the world as I am.

[cynicalshakespearean]

All I want to do is talk to my friends all day but 10000% they would get sick of me and I'd lose them as friends so I sit here alone in my house going crazy instead of reaching out.

[cynicalshakespearean]

So I have friends.

I have a lot of friends.

But I get the feeling that not a single one likes me or wants to be around me or even knows who I really am. I have no evidence of this. And they sure are tired of telling me that I am wrong. But it continues.

My brain is a never ending spiral of self hatred and loathing and everyone around me is sick of it. But I just want to be liked. I just want to spend time with them. I just want not to be trapped in a pit of my own creation but that's what it feels like.

My insides feel broken. I feel exhausted. I feel wired. I want to scream until my lungs give out. I want to cry and be held.

I am so tired of being in pain. And it's all self inflicted.

I like to say I'm not suicidal. And I am not most of the time. I've never tried. Like made actionable steps. And I've cut myself, sure, who hasn't when you are dealing with long term depression, you know? But never made an honest to god attempt.

But it crosses my mind more frequently than it did before.

Because objectively I have everything. A house. A job I don't completely abhor. A husband who loves me. Friends who tolerate my existence.

I want for nothing.

My life is perfect.

So why am I not happy?

And if I can't be happy when everything is perfect, will I ever get to be? Or is this all there is for me?

Endlessly subsisting. Continuing to do the same things day after day. Putting on stupid shows and trying to smile and knowing that none of it is of any consequence.

That sounds miserable. That's why I feel miserable.

I just wish I could let myself be happy.

[cynicalshakespearean]

Welcome.

I haven't been on Tumblr for years. I downloaded it just because I need it.

Consider this a public diary of sorts. Anonymous to get things out of my head but not inflict them on other people.

Starting stats (for tracking)

Age: 31

Pronouns: she/her

Sexuality: Not sure

Meds: 150mg Buproprion, 50mg Venelefaxine

I remember doing this kind of thing when I was in college and it kind of helped. I'm older now but somehow more and less sad.

I'll tag it.