It’s Eating Away At Me

The stress. The insomnia. All of it is meshing and mashing together, causing me to slowly shut down on myself.

Not to worry, this happens to me.

It’s affecting me physically, though. I need to not eat as bad as I have. I have to start working out again. It’ll help clear my system.

Fuck, I haven’t even done homework or called the bank.

I need…well, I need several things to be honest. But at the very top of that list, I have two things. I need school to end. I need a break. And I need someone, besides my mother, to tell me I’ll be okay. That I’m strong enough to handle it and pull through on top. It’s a selfish dependency, but I never vocalize how much I need to hear it.

And the few people who I could desperately use the pep talk from…well, I don’t really wish to bother them with it.

I’m self destructive. I depend on the intensity of the stress. It’s the only thing that will force me to accomplish what I need to. Generally, with results way above sub-par. Sometimes even excellent, if I’m allowed to toot my own horn, there.

Well, have a kicker from 2AM:

Another young man that’s shown interest in me again has popped back onto the scene. I humored him for a bit. Mostly discussing graduation for both of us. Then he continued prying a bit about my mindset on it, and why I wasn’t wetting-my-panties excited (I’m exaggerating here, I apologize here for the crude analogy) about graduation itself. I make him wary. But he finds me to be a pretty face. This was just hours after this new young’un that found my name to be incredibly enthralling. My answer? Well, I’ll be excited when it comes around. But for now…

Well, for now I’m too busy trying to finish, and figure a plan to get me out of here.

I’m a 24 year old woman. And I am beyond tired. In part it’s my own fault. In part, it’s not. I’m giving too much of myself than I’m receiving back, and I’m giving more than I am paying attention to my own needs. In contrast, people utilize me and assume I’m an endless energy at their disposal. In contrast, I live in a state in a country that does not take care of its people. So I’m left as a statistic, a number, for their own personal data. I’m left to pick up everyone else’s pieces.

When the fuck will someone look me straight in the eye, and ask bluntly “What do you want to do?”

Not in a day-by-day scenario here, folks. I’m talking grand scale. What do I want from my life.

It’s never about what I want. It’s what people want for me or from me. Not my own idea. Because somehow, I’m always fucking wrong. Even to the most minute details.

It’s eating me alive. I’m adrift at sea here, and being eaten alive internally.

Yet I keep surviving. I continue to live and thrive and pull through stronger than so many.

I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know where to go.

I don’t need it, but I desperately want someone to me fight me for me. To force me to decide.

I want to be happy. Genuinely, blissfully happy. But how do I go about that?

~ a little white dove


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