I’ve been writing just random stories lately to help organize my thoughts, and I realized something in them, that I have a lot of trust issues. That I don’t want to let anyone in, because they’ll only hurt me. If I open myself up, they will stab me. How many times… how many times have I been hurt? Been treated as less than… because it’s easy to do that to me, I guess.
I found that I write this stuff a lot…
“You’ll leave me, everyone always does.”
“She wasn’t sure she could do it… get attached to someone else who was going to leave her.”
“Or maybe she was just so desperate for some company, even though she knew he was going to leave her too.”
“But how many times had she opened herself up only to get hurt again?”
“She had no real friends, just those at the festival that she occasionally hung out with. They were hardly ever there when she really needed them, though. She’d been pushing everyone away and living for nothing.”
“If you don’t care for yourself, how can you ever expect to be happy? It’s no wonder people don’t respect you, use you and then leave you.”
“He would leave her too. He was just using her like everyone else did anyway, why should she care if he left too?”
“I’ve just come to accept that everyone is just going to use me and leave me.”
Abandonment issues I guess? At least my family won’t abandon me. I have known so many people in my life and the ones I get closest to seem to leave me. Some at least just fade away, we grow apart, and that’s ok. But then there are others who use me. I love helping people, I love doing things for people, but I do not like being used. They take, and take, and take, and never give back, and I can only give so much before I can’t anymore.
I keep thinking that there are probably quite a few people out there who could be great friends if I only give them a chance… but I can’t. It took me a long time before I gave that group of women I talked about a chance… and I got hurt. I still hurt from that even though it was back in August. I stayed ‘friends’ with some of them on facebook and messaged them for New Years, and ended up having conversations with a few of them. Which would have been nice had I not been used again… Do I just have “therapist” written on my forehead that everyone needs to unload their problems onto me and then ditch me when I need to talk?
I’m exhausted, emotionally. I’m lonely. I have my family, my art, my stories. I have a few people I talk to online, and a couple of them I have opened up to, because they don’t use me, but I’m still afraid of losing them too.
I can’t say no. If someone needs me to listen, I will. I give and I give, and I feel like they’re starting to take my soul because they won’t give back. My characters in my stories are depressing. They’re tragic. And I can’t make them funny or happy-go-lucky, because they’re essentially the embodiment of myself and I’m trapped in this pit of depression and I can’t get out.
“She wasn’t trying to make up for anything, she was just… trying to prove she was worth something. Show the world that she wasn’t worthless, that she could be useful.”
“The last time I tried to talk to someone about this stuff… She got angry with me. She was my best friend and she got angry that I was depressed. That was years ago… I haven’t had anyone to talk to since, or at least I haven’t tried. There are only so many times one can get shot down before they simply stop trying, you know? I’m afraid to open myself up to that kind of pain again.”
“Why should I complain? Why should I have told you how much pain I was in on the road? What would that have accomplished? Why should I tell people how upset I am, how twisted up my emotions are inside? What good would it do but to bring others down? I need to figure this out on my own, let others live their own lives and be happy.”
“I keep pushing myself. I want to make sure I’m not a burden, that I make sure I’m useful and don’t need to… don’t need to be shoved to the side, ignored… but… That seems to happen anyway.”