#but two loneliness/sexuality relate panic attacks in a week is probably not a good sign

[beholdthesword]

Personal post alert -

Last week I talked to an old friend on the phone and ended up telling her probably more about my sexuality than I had ever really told anyone else which wasn’t a lot because I don’t really talk about it and I think it cracked open the well of loneliness inside of me that I pretend doesn’t exist

A few days later I spent the morning reading tlt fanfic and jerking off, a combination that sometimes has the opposite of the desired effect and instead of enjoying myself I felt like I was just sinking further into feelings I didn’t want to have

i was doing better! i had plans! I was going to go outside and be with my friends in the afternoon but it didn’t matter all that mattered was that I was reading fic that hurts me to read and I couldn’t stop I wanted to know that broken people could find each other and survive but it hurt because it wasn’t true, it wasn’t real, it’s just fic. It’s one thing to read it but it’s another to believe it and i just couldn’t believe that id ever crawl out of this hole where I’m so alone and no one will ever care

In honor of pride month I decided to read a bunch of queer stories as a vehicle to get me out of my book slump. i started with stone butch blues. i was surprised how quickly it pulled me in. I’m almost at the end and in the midst of the pain and confusion there’s a beautiful moment of love. “I can’t believe I finally found you.” i had to put the book down.

I just saw a post with a quote from Nona the ninth and I want to reread it because I remember how I cried. it hurt to read and I still don’t know why but I feel like that again now

there’s so much love and I try (oh my god do I try) to put love out into the world, to do things for my friends for no other reason than I love them and think it will make them happy and I KNOW I get it back but I can’t FEEL it I can’t believe it and I can’t make myself believe that I’m worthy of anything more than I get because this is all I’m left with -

I wanted this to all go away. I started some meds, was feeling better. Waking up isn’t so hard anymore. I can do tasks a little easier. But I just had to stop in the middle of making this post because I was crying so hard I gave myself a panic attack and couldn’t keep it in

Happy pride month to me I guess. I’m not really out - (not that I even know what that looks like when half the time I just pretend I know what’s going on with me (do I want love do I want sex do I just think I want sex do I actually want love? could I even find love? I know I don’t feel the same as everyone else - but what if I do? What if I just don’t recognize it what if I’m just too disconnected from myself to realize it - then what? how do I possibly begin to unpack repressing myself for my whole life, how could I expect anyone to deal with that but how scab I do it alone) as if I’m not constantly beating back fear (that it too late for me to even try, I’m too far removed from sex and intimacy, my inexperience will be a dealbreaker, how could anyone ever want to wait for me to try, I’m fifteen years behind everyone else, what if I’m disappointed, disappointing? how could I ever crawl back to this version of existence after that? how can I live with it now?) - I’m not really proud (the labels just feel like another box I don’t really fit into)

I spend all my time searching for ways to be, as if I can read enough to finally figure out how to exist in this realm of reality where things make sense to me, where I can understand how people form relationships and how they keep them how they navigate the minefield together. as if I can observe enough people so that I can understand how people are supposed to work how I’m supposed to be

I don’t know if I know what love feels like. I don’t know that I could recognize it if I do. I know it must be there but I can’t feel it and it drives me crazy. I cry myself to sleep at night for want of love and I don’t even know how I would recognize it. I surely wouldn’t believe that it’s for me. how could it be when I’ve been alone this whole time? i take care of everyone I know the best way I know how and I don’t know what it’s like to feel cared for and I’m afraid I never will

If I ask for it (help, care, love) how do I know it’s real

sometimes I wish I didn’t have to feel anything at all