Herein lies a lot of pain, frustration, and ill will.

This disconnect I have is really making itself felt lately.

I don't trust anybody.

For every good friend, for every relative, for every love, I can only see how they can hurt me, how they do hurt me, how they might hurt me, and I feel it so much that I just want to break away from them. I've created this disconnect myself, in trying not to be hurt.
A part of me still wants to hurt, though. It's familiar. It makes me think. It makes me feel something. I hate to think that I crave drama.

I don't trust them. I don't trust you. Everybody makes me hurt, if only by what they may think. It's not just hurt, though...it's this driving, searing pain that wrenches me in an unreachable place, leaves me feeling exhausted and heartbroken and utterly alone.
I'm not even satisfied in the solitude. I need these people I don't trust.
What the fuck is wrong with me?

It's all becoming overwhelming. My head's feeling heavy and my eyes are starting to swim again. I feel like something will snap.
I just want to go to sleep in a very dark room. I want to go to sleep quickly so I don't have time to think about things. I don't want to dream about anything. But then, I always have to wake up.

It drives me crazy that my problems only matter to me.
How much of myself and my time and my heart and my energy have I devoted to these others I seek comfort from?

The problem isn't them, though, I know it's not. It's me.
For all the people in the world who'd do what I think I want them to do, what I think I need, it would never be enough. I'll never trust that completely. I'll never completely connect with somebody.
Of course, that's me for you. All or nothing. All of the time, or it never meant a thing.

I always play the game, but it's always their game. They always win.
What would my game be if I could play it? I'd wrench their heart out too, and not even care. In fact, I'd get pleasure from their pain. It would be horrible, excrutiating, devastating for them, but that's what they'd get...and be happy to have tried.

I'm not a good person.
I hate when they just brush that feeling aside. I tell them, I confess, the truth, and it's nothing to them.
"It's fine."
"You're fine."
"You're just being too hard on yourself."
"I don't expect you to be perfect."
Those things feel good for a second, and then they hurt. Why do I expect myself to be perfect? Who am I trying to be perfect for? Certainly not you, who can't care enough about what's making me sad to not sweep it under the rug and pretend it's not there.
I'm sad. I feel like every time I try to get close to somebody, there are open wounds on me...and the wounds hurt...and I try to show them the wounds...and they say those things and they pat my head and tell me I'm overreacting...but...this is my life. This has been my life. This is me...this is what makes me...how can you just toss it aside like an unimportant detail? How can you not care what I feel about myself, how I see myself because of how everyone else sees me?


I don't want to care. But that's the problem. I do care.
I care about having people around me. I care about being involved in peoples' lives. I care about being more than an object, taking up universal space.

Dr. Phil would blame my weight.
I would blame the world that blames my weight.

How can they laugh at the plight of my gender? To my face? Easily, of course. It doesn't hurt their feelings.

I keep forgetting that fantasies don't come true.
I keep wishing that I was more than I am.

I wish that I deserved what I have.
I wish that I wasn't being settled for.
I wish that I felt some kind of worth.
I wish that I could be thankful for what I have because I should be.

I've turned off comments on this post.
This was just about being fucked up.
Thanks anyway.