Some introspection that probably should have been kept private

I lied.

I lied in my last post about feeling better.

I lied a couple posts back about not talking about it anymore.

I have no one to talk with about these things, so I have to talk about it here. You know that. We all know that. And when something is plaguing my mind, I can't keep it in there. I mean, I can. I'm really fucking good at bottling things up, but I'm not going to do that this time. I'm going to be vague as always, but maybe I'll feel better.

I'm just going to vent about what has been on my mind lately. I've written several incomplete drafts about these things and it's best I didn't keep them hidden... or perhaps I should keep them private. Fuck it.

It's just that I feel this weird clock ticking inside of me. Before you jump to any conclusions: it's not the maternal clock. It's some sort of pining. I don't feel like myself.

All these people want to see me. I have unread messages on Facebook that I just won't open because they are invitations requesting my presence. I don't want to give it to them. I've been trying to avoid Facebook because knowing those messages are in there makes me feel anxious. And they all know I'm actively ignoring them because fucking Facebook shows that "last active x minutes ago" feature. I know this and I know they know this... I mean, I should be thankful that people want me, but I'm not. Because I've told these people how I feel and that I want to be left alone, yet they persist.

This doesn't count for everybody. This only pertains to those few who I have told no. I try to be nice and continue to speak with them, but they always have to turn it sexual. It's not cute, and I'm not smiling.

Furthermore, I'm bitter about the body I've been given. It has always been a curse. Go back and count the amount of times on this blog that I have said I was cursed over the years. This manifested at a young age and has never let up. The recurring metaphorical themes in my life are wolves and blessings that are curses.

For artists, they say to make a list of 100 things. The 100 things are the things that tend to be recurring themes in your art as far as imagery goes. I'm not really going to get into it because I doubt anyone who reads this cares as much about art history as I do, but those are among my 100 things: wolves and curses. Just one curse though... myself.

I always say I was cursed by a witch as a child. You know I was super interested in witchcraft as a kid? I didn't believe it was real, but it provided some sort of fantasy, some sort of escape. I feel weird talking about it now. I still like it casually. It was the closest thing to spirituality I ever had. But, I digress... this entire post is one digression after another.

My body is the enemy.

I love that song so much for obvious reasons.

I haven't been sleeping at night and it's pissing me off. Typically, I'd self-medicate, but I have nothing in this house with which to do that.

I haven't left this house in days, and I know that's bad for my health.

I have people reeling over me, and I don't know what to do. I feel like I can't fix it. I don't want to get in the way. They need to fix themselves. (This is the curse by the way). The ones who I have directly ended it with. The ones who I have directly told I don't want to carry on with them... can't move on. Why can't they move on? Because of the fucking curse!

Another recurring theme: head ghosts. You've seen where I've mentioned it before, and I'll most definitely mention it again. My ghost has crawled inside their heads. This means they can't stop thinking about me (usu. romantically). I'm always in their head. The ghost is a parasite that latches onto your brain, and there is no known cure for it yet. It just doesn't go away... It's something that happens involuntarily, not intentionally. I never wanted this. When I get involved with someone, I hold back. I hold back as much as I can for as long as I can (even with Jack, I never let go... I held back the entire time) because I don't want to infect them... they get infected anyway. And addicted. I feel like such a piece of shit talking about this. I hate talking about this because I'm not conceited (I'm actually really fucking insecure). I just think about it so much and need to get some of it out...

I'd like to let go eventually. I'd like to fully release my potential...? Is there a better way to word that? Look, I will go to my grave saying I don't need someone else to make me happy; I really, truly don't. But I'd like to meet someone who I'm comfortable taking on. Who I trust to take me on fully. I've never trusted anyone that much. I've never been confident enough that the receiving end deserved that. I've never been able to be that open with anyone.

I may have been that open with Max. We were together for a long time, but my memory and I don't speak much, and so much of that relationship is already lost on me. He remembers so much more than I do, and I mostly only remember the bad stuff.

There are other things I'd like to write down just to get it out, but I can't. Not unless I changed my URL... I could, but there's a tiny sense of security knowing this will get read... but most it's a huge sense on insecurity.

A false sense of security?

I've had this overwhelming urge to delete all of my social media profiles lately, so don't be surpised if that happens out of the blue. I haven't done it yet because I don't want to make any rash decisions... After I've slept on it for so long, it won't be rash anymore.

All that being said, there are exceptions. There are certain people who I really would like to see and spend time with. And I do need to get out of this house.