One of these days I might just find myself walking in the middle of the street, my head raised up to the sky and mumbling gibberish. I might be flapping my arms as if I was trying to fly. I might be completely unaware of my surroundings. And as you bring me to the sidewalk to ask me what is wrong, you shouldn't tell me I didn't warn you. You shouldn't tell me I was just completely being silly when I was writing this stuff.
Sometimes I cannot sleep. Sometimes my head aches and one time I was so stressed out that I willed my mind to snap and it made me afraid because I really felt that I can lose myself. Sometimes I just want to scream and I don't know... maybe spill blood.
Can't you see that I'm only holding on because I cannot allow myself to be dysfunctional (although I am starting to succumb to that) and let my family starve? I am their only hope, and I am afraid to visit a specialist and be diagnosed with something because I do not know if my family can bear it. I'd rather try dealing with it on my own first and I know that when that moment happens my friends will be the ones around me. So at least, if some of them will be able to read this, they won't be completely at a loss on what has happened.
I am changing, slowly, and I at least still have enough awareness to note that I am not acting like how I used to be. I need help but I am so afraid!
And those people pretending to be my friends - yeah - they will whisper about it - my madness - in corners and they will look at me with pity. Pity! And derision. And my real friends - yeah - they will look at me with helplessness and they will try to blame me. They will try to tell me that I should've fought, should've resisted. And they will not realize that yeah, I was doing that. That was why I was trying to find every scrap of happiness I can in every bottle of alcohol I consume, in body contact, in dating, in every song I listen to and do you know what they do? They only see the act! They do not try to understand WHY I am doing these things in the first place.
Now I begin to understand what Darwin did to me. Somehow, he knew that I cannot be left to myself for too long and that I needed someone to weave my life around with because on my own, I will fall apart. Too bad he couldn't take that responsibility for too long. He didn't love me - that is clear now. He pretended to love me because he only wanted to help.
I don't know what is wrong. What I do know is that if you offer help I will reject it. That is part of whatever it is that is bothering me.
A part of my brain - the working one - is telling me that this is pure arrant blather and that I shouldn't let this be published. But another part tells me that this, maybe, is the first step to getting help. I know things which I can do on my own and I know for certain that this isn't one of them. Always I go back to this state and it becomes more dangerous everytime.
Help! Tell me all these are normal. Tel me you feel like this too sometimes, only you disregard it because it is not something to panic about. Tell me this is another one of my silly pleas to get attention (just the idea makes me want to puke) but I don't know, maybe I am unaware of what I'm doing? I cannot seem to find a lack of means to make a fool of myself do I? Why do I find a certain pleasure in that? Why do I seem to invite bad experiences to happen to me? Why do I want to destroy my image, my authority, my credibility?
Oh, my mind! My mind! Let it subside, I do not want to end my life.
Silly! Crazy! Fucked up!
No more please!
Whatever you feel like doing about this, don't. Just don't!
*Consider this a "work of art" na lang ok? Thanks.
Sometimes I cannot sleep. Sometimes my head aches and one time I was so stressed out that I willed my mind to snap and it made me afraid because I really felt that I can lose myself. Sometimes I just want to scream and I don't know... maybe spill blood.
Can't you see that I'm only holding on because I cannot allow myself to be dysfunctional (although I am starting to succumb to that) and let my family starve? I am their only hope, and I am afraid to visit a specialist and be diagnosed with something because I do not know if my family can bear it. I'd rather try dealing with it on my own first and I know that when that moment happens my friends will be the ones around me. So at least, if some of them will be able to read this, they won't be completely at a loss on what has happened.
I am changing, slowly, and I at least still have enough awareness to note that I am not acting like how I used to be. I need help but I am so afraid!
And those people pretending to be my friends - yeah - they will whisper about it - my madness - in corners and they will look at me with pity. Pity! And derision. And my real friends - yeah - they will look at me with helplessness and they will try to blame me. They will try to tell me that I should've fought, should've resisted. And they will not realize that yeah, I was doing that. That was why I was trying to find every scrap of happiness I can in every bottle of alcohol I consume, in body contact, in dating, in every song I listen to and do you know what they do? They only see the act! They do not try to understand WHY I am doing these things in the first place.
Now I begin to understand what Darwin did to me. Somehow, he knew that I cannot be left to myself for too long and that I needed someone to weave my life around with because on my own, I will fall apart. Too bad he couldn't take that responsibility for too long. He didn't love me - that is clear now. He pretended to love me because he only wanted to help.
I don't know what is wrong. What I do know is that if you offer help I will reject it. That is part of whatever it is that is bothering me.
A part of my brain - the working one - is telling me that this is pure arrant blather and that I shouldn't let this be published. But another part tells me that this, maybe, is the first step to getting help. I know things which I can do on my own and I know for certain that this isn't one of them. Always I go back to this state and it becomes more dangerous everytime.
Help! Tell me all these are normal. Tel me you feel like this too sometimes, only you disregard it because it is not something to panic about. Tell me this is another one of my silly pleas to get attention (just the idea makes me want to puke) but I don't know, maybe I am unaware of what I'm doing? I cannot seem to find a lack of means to make a fool of myself do I? Why do I find a certain pleasure in that? Why do I seem to invite bad experiences to happen to me? Why do I want to destroy my image, my authority, my credibility?
Oh, my mind! My mind! Let it subside, I do not want to end my life.
Silly! Crazy! Fucked up!
No more please!
Whatever you feel like doing about this, don't. Just don't!
*Consider this a "work of art" na lang ok? Thanks.
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