framlingem

Don't answer that, because I know what the right answer is... but still.

I have come to the realisation that I just may have royally screwed up one of the best things to ever happen to me. I may be able to fix it, but fixing it is going to hurt like hell. I'm not sure I deserve to have it fixed.

I know I should try... but it's one of those things where it's harder and harder the longer you put it off, because every day compounds the screwup, and I've been putting it off for... three months now, I think.

Sometimes I wish people would just give up on me, because it would be so much easier. If I asked you all to hate me, though, I don't think you would, even if I wanted you to, which I wouldn't really, even if I said I did. It's just.. I hurt people. And sometimes I feel like if I chase someone off and make them angry at me, they'll know that they're better off without me, so they won't be sad when I hurt them. It's better to be angry than sad. Easier, because there's a focus, and there's less guilt involved for them.

I've asked people flat out to stop loving me. My parents used to say they were only upset with me because they loved me, and I could see how much they hated being upset with me, so logically I figured that if they didn't love me, they wouldn't be upset and they wouldn't sad. I begged them to stop loving me. They wouldn't. I'm glad they didn't. But at the same time, it feels selfish, because they've been sad for me since, and they wouldn't have been if they didn't love me.

I'm not an easy person to love. I know that. It's easy enough to like me for a while, but I hurt the people I love. One of the reasons I don't want to have kids is because I'm terrified I'll be the kind of mother who abuses through neglect and anger, and I hate that sort of person. I don't ever want that person to be me. I feel as if people in general would be better off if they don't get close to me, so sometimes I don't act on things. I met a guy this summer that I felt like I'd known forever, who made me smile, who made me tingle... I found myself thinking that if he asked me to marry him, I'd say yes right then and there. I had opportunities to tell him how I felt several times. We went out a couple of times... I even had supper at his place. And I didn't tell him, because my stupid brain told me it wouldn't work out, because I'd do something stupid and screw it up. I wound up riding the bus away from him the last time we saw him, watching him through the window until I couldn't see him anymore, and wishing more than anything else that I'd ignored the little voice in my head and just told him.

That's not the issue I mentioned at the top, because I didn't let myself have anything to screw up. But it's related. I wish I'd said something - even if he hadn't felt the same way, at least I'd have tried. I told myself that I'd be in St. John's for Thanksgiving, and I could tell him then, but there was a combination of a lot to do in Corner Brook and me being a chicken that made me not go.

I hate my damned insecurities. I hate that I never really got over the first thing I learned in school being that I was unloveable (I've since graduated to "I am loveable, but it's tough"). I hate that I'm such a coward. I hate that I overanalyse things. I hate that sometimes I have to turn my headphones up so loud that I can't hear myself think, just because thinking hurts too much and I can't stand it. I hate that I can't forget. I hate that I can't love the way normal people do, freely and happily and completely. I hate that I'm afraid. I hate that I only let myself fall in love with people I know I can't have, because it's safe. I hate that I still can't breathe right every time I think of the guy in St. John's, because damnit my heart should have given up by now. I haven't seen him or spoken with him since August, for crying out loud. I hate that I've hurt someone who loves me like a sister. I hate how easily I get convinced that people hate me who just plain don't. I hate that I deal with difficult things by ignoring them and blocking them out and running away. I hate that sometimes I eat just to make myself feel better, and then I just feel worse about it because I have the guilt that comes from overeating. I hate that I can't make myself do the right thing, even though I want to more than anything. I hate that it's me who won't let myself be happy for too long. I hate how much I need people. I hate how lonely I get. I hate that there are parts of me broken which make my chances of ever having someone to spend a life with slim to none. I hate that every time anyone's ever kissed me or touched me, it's felt like rape no matter how much I wanted them to, because suddenly I'm five again and my classmates are making me kiss Nicky and it hurts because they're pressing our heads together so hard that my nose is flat, and I hate that I can't tell them that when they ask me why I'm not 'involved' in the kiss, even though they tell me I'm a good kisser.

I hate how fucking screwed up I am, and I hate that there's nothing that ever seems to fix me, because I'm lousy at talking about it. Every time I think I've got a handle on life, I'm just ignoring something really well.