loneliness in two parts

PART 1

I am scared of a lot of things. I really am a massive baby. Horror movies, snakes, the dark, clowns, loud noises, barnacles, heights, climate change, big dogs, the bottom of the ocean, commitment, ants, car crashes, the woods. I am easily scared. Making me scream is not even a challenge.

I am screaming right now. But you can't hear it. I am screaming on the inside. As loud as I can.

I am terrified of being left alone.

I'm not really alone right now. Not technically. My roommate is sleeping on the other side of the wall. My friend is texting me. I could probably call at least a couple people and they would pick up. It's not the same. No matter how many people I have in my life, how close we are, I am lonely.

I don't think about death as much anymore. I still do. It's just not as bad as before. 

It's an easy habit to pick up, though. Like when I started painting my nails so I wouldn't bite them. It worked. Until it didn't. I ate a lot of nail polish.

People are so replaceable. One person walks out and another walks in. They're different but they fill the same space, the same void, that the other left. I wonder who will replace me when I'm dead. I guess that will depend on when it happens and how isolated I have become. 

What is the point of sticking around when anyone could be me?

PART 2

I went to sleep last night, crying. I did what I am supposed to do. I reached out. No one reached back to catch me. 

That's the part that is the hardest. I am trying. I am trying so damn hard every day to be okay, to be happy, to keep breathing. They say that I am important and that they want me around and that I need to be here but where are they? Where are they when I need them? How many times do I reach out before I fall and can't get back up?

I hate being alone. I am too used to it but I fucking hate it. And it makes me hate myself more. How can I be doing all the right things and end up in the same place? I don't understand what else I can possibly do. Except exit stage left. But I'm not supposed to do that.

I'm stuck in limbo. Weightless. Screaming. Alone.

i'm tired of repeating myself

Pick me. Pick me. Pick me. Pick me. Pick me.

I am screaming at you in my head. I am begging you. Look into my eyes. I can't say the words out loud but please hear me. 

Please pick me for once.

Don't make me feel like an idiot again. Don't make me feel stupid for picking you every time. Please, don't fucking do it.

How can you keep ripping me apart? Is this fun for you? Is it a game? Do you even notice?

Do you even fucking notice?

It is not fair that I trust you, that I put so much time and effort into you, into us. It is not fair that I am constantly fighting for you to even remember I am here. It is not fair that you keep walking all over me and I have no choice but to let you because I don't know how to do anything different. 

Why do you give everyone else your time? Why do I have to crawl on my knees until they are bruised and bloody and I can't even stand anymore before you even glance in my direction?

I don't want to be the victim. I don't want to always be this person because I know I am a fucking good friend and I have a huge heart with a lot of love to give.

Please. For once. Pick me.

love is love

I like boys. A lot. Always have. Probably always will. I'm just a fan. A big, big fan of boys.
But here's the thing: I like girls too. A lot. Like just-as-much-as-boys a lot.
I've spent the last twenty years of my life chasing boys and believing that I was part of the heterosexual majority of the human race. Well, not necessarily "believing". Assuming might be a better word for it. It's taken awhile but I am trying to be honest with myself, about who I really am.
When LGBTQ+ people come out, a lot of the time the question that gets asked frequently is "How long have you known?". I am not too sure how to answer because, to be honest, being anything other than straight has never seemed like an option. So even when I was feeling some kind of way about a girl, I passed it off as loving them as friend because how could I like anything other than boys? When I made out with girls, I only ever did it because I was drunk, right?
The more I think about it, the more I try to deny it, the more I know I was wrong. Denial is a powerful thing, especially when no one is telling you anything different. Any time I said "I'm straight", it always felt fake but what alternative was there?
More than that, though, I already have enough things to deal with like depression, anxiety, wild mood swings, etc., that adding one more thing to the list that would make my life more difficult makes me almost wish I wasn't born like this. I don't think it's wrong to be gay at all - however anyone chooses to live their life is their business - but looking at everything going on in my life, I just don't know what to do.
See, this is the first time I'm even admitting it. To anyone. Not that this really counts considering no one reads this blog except for me. But still, I can't even say the words "I am bisexual" without bursting into tears or feeling nauseous. I know most of my friends would support me and my sisters would have my back. My parents might be a different story, especially since they're more conservative in their faith than I am. And my extended family is full of nice people who are unfortunately so closed-minded that I don't know that I would be accepted anymore.
Two weeks ago, at the dinner table, my dad and my aunt's boyfriend were making jokes about gays and saying things that not only got under my skin, but scared the shit out of me. If they make jokes about people they don't even know, how would they react if I showed up with a girlfriend? Would they mock me too? Or would they just make comments about me behind my back? What if they hate me?
And my Christian friends? So many of them are really genuine, loving people but not all of them support the gay community and some even actively condemn it. I love God and I love going to church and being a Christian because I know God loves me for me. He made me the way I am so why should liking girls and guys be such a big deal?
I just don't know what to do. I feel like I've been living in a daze for so long and now I can see things clearer but I'm all alone. I want to talk about it but I don't know how to. The words just dry up in my mouth and nothing will come out. But I need to force them out, to stop repressing all of these emotions. Because this is my truth. This is who I am. I don't want to hide anymore. I just want to be me. And live my life. And love who I love. I'm scared shitless. But I know this is the right thing to do.

the room of mirrors

You look at yourself and all you can see are problems that you need to fix.
I wrote that in June, leaving that one line in my drafts. It's weird how you can know exactly what you're feeling in the future. Unless you never stop feeling it.
I'm in university now. So far it has simultaneously been the best and worst experience imaginable. I discovered that I have an incredible amount of things to learn but I am on the right track and I think this is where I need to be. Every opportunity I've had here has helped me grow and learn and develop more than I ever would have expected. Three months here has felt like three years; it's hard to imagine that I have so much more time here. However, that thought becomes more terrifying, knowing that I have that much more to go.
All my fears are surfacing constantly, taking turns breaking through the thin walls I've built. If I trusted my instincts, my arms would be bloody again and I would make my bed my permanent sanctuary. You may be perhaps wondering why I feel this way. Or maybe you already know me well enough to know this is not a rare occurrence. Either way, I will explain, if only for the potential catharsis it could bring.
I'm scared. I'm scared of getting bored, of losing my passion. Have you ever listened to a song that you loved so many times that you get annoyed and stopped? I want to love what I love doing. I don't want to stop loving it.
I'm scared that I'll be forgettable. My mark left on this world will be nothing but a shadow, a vague and uninspired brushstroke in the corner of a masterpiece. I want to mean something. I want to have a purpose. I want to be remembered for more than who I was but how I made people feel.
I'm scared of always chasing people who don't need me as much as I need them. It's been years. Years of constant anxiety and insecurity. Years of silent hope and masked disappointment. And here I am. Almost two decades old and I still feel like I'm begging the people in my life to stay, to want to be here. I want the people I love to love me back. I want them to feel that I am the air in their lungs, not just another star in their galaxy. I want someone to choose me first for once.
I am scared. I am terrified. I don't want to fail. I don't want to be lonely. But I'm not seeing any doors leading out of this room I'm trapped in. All I see are mirrors, reflecting back the image of a girl who is grasping at everything and nothing all at once. All I see are cracks in her armour and the crossed out ink of words left unspoken. I see the fear in her eyes and the rapid beating of her heart. I see her. And I don't like what I see.

what's the point?

How many people in their lives at some point or another have asked what's the point of it all? I guarantee a lot of people nowadays would say they have. Because it's easy to get lost. It's easy to lose track of the meaning of everything. It's easy to wonder at the purpose of life. It's easy because there isn't a Point.

What is your answer when someone asks what's the Point? Let me tell you what I've been told. 

The Point is "to find happiness", "to find peace", "to fulfill your life's purpose (whatever the fuck that means)", "to honour God", "to find love", "to make a difference in the world", "to change someone's life", "to live life to the fullest". Or my favourite, "I don't know but I'm trying to figure it out". 

This is what people desperately cling to and believe in. And it's bullshit.

Because who really knows. I sure as hell won't pretend to. In fact, I don't really believe there's a Point. I run through the list in my head over and over, trying to figure out if anything in my life really has a meaning to it that goes beyond the surface, that really has an impact on my life. And I come up blank every time.

It's so easy to lie to ourselves and try to find meaning in every detail of our lives when in reality, nothing really matters. I don't know why I expect to hear something profound or life changing every time I ask. I think I keep holding onto hope that someone will actually have an answer that will satisfy me. But it's a never ending cliffhanger that I subject myself to daily. 

What's the point of working hard? What's the point of chasing after boys? What's the point of going to church? What's the point of praying? What's the point of taking pills to fall asleep at night? What's the point of telling anyone what's wrong? What's the point of eating healthy and exercising? What's the point of buying new clothes? What's the point of getting good grades? What's the point of going to university? What's the point of auditioning for this scholarship? What's the point of working 7 days a week? What's the point of writing all my feelings down? What's the point of feelings? What's the point of any of it? What's the Point?

Hard work pays off in the long run. How will you find your soulmate if you don't try? To praise and worship God. God hears what you have to say. Sleep is important for your overall health. People love you and they want to help. Good health is key for living a long life. You gotta keep up with the latest trends and so people will like you and accept you. Good grades means a good education. University is a great experience socially and academically, and a degree helps get jobs. You need the scholarship because you can't afford university. Like I said, you can't afford university. Because people get annoyed when you complain too much. It means you're still human, you're still alive. Is there a point? No, there isn't one.

I can ask the questions. I can answer them. Sure you can argue with me about my answers but deep down I think we all know the truth otherwise why would we keep asking? Why would we keep seeking reassurance that everything has a meaning, that we have a purpose?

Personally, I don't want to anymore. I don't want to keep asking over and over "What is the Point?". I don't want to have a Point. I don't want to be here. I'm done.

Go ahead. Tell me I'm giving up, that I'm young and naive and I have family and friends and a whole future ahead of me. So what? Until you can tell me what the Point of everything is and give me an answer that isn't bullshit, I don't care.