Funny old week. Funny old life, actually, and no mistake. I mean, it really brings it home to you, brings you down to earth with a jolt that might even knock some sense into your tired old grey matter, my girl.
It’s all so… Normal, I guess. No, that’s not it. Not what I meant. Close but no cigar, as they say. Whoever “they” might be. Did you ever wonder about “them”, wonder why or even how they say so much and everybody knows what they’ve said, but nobody knows who they are?
I did. I wondered. Sat awake nights thinking about it. About lots of the things people say. I bet most of the ones who’ve said things to me over the years don’t even remember half of what they said. Not half. Probably not even a tenth of the words they casually tossed at me. Like you’d throw scraps to a dog.
But that was better than the ones who aimed sharp words in place of stones. Teasing they called it. Horrible word. Dressing up their malice in bright clothes to make believe it was fun. I think it was fun for them. Fun to point at the odd one, make sure she knew she was on the outside.
“Sticks and stones” is what I got told when I objected. “Words can’t hurt you.” Those words right there hurt me even more because they told me I was alone.
Being alone. It is my normal, I’m used to it. Everybody leaves me in the end. Still, on the bright side if I’m on my own then there’s nobody there to hurt me more. Just me and my past, strolling hand in hand down memory lane.
Yeah, a dead-end street, that. Past the gutted wrecks and garbage, scabrous walls with the remains of graffiti. Don’t look too closely at where you’re treading, avoid the eyes that peer from shadows.
I remember when all this was trees, when the sun shone and I would run around, laughing. But that was before. You know they say you can never go back? Them again, they get about. Never go back. You want to know why I can’t go back? Because I never managed to leave.
The old home town, you wouldn’t recognise it. All that time, all those lives, gone. Dark now.
Yeah, funny old week, like I said. Being close to Death will do that, you know? All those thoughts of mortality, all that pent-up grief, all the weight of realisation that you don’t deserve to be the one left.
I should ask them why, next time they’re around. Who knows, maybe this time they’ll tell me.
Anyway, I’m doing fine. Thanks for asking. That’s what I’m supposed to say, right?
5 thoughts on “Fear and Self-loathing”
Sometimes, we all just need to scream into the void. I’ve been there, got the tee-shirt, still have the emotional scars. Pretending to the outside world that you’re okay is exhausting, when you can feel your soul scrabbling away inside you, begging to be set free so that it can ask for help.
I’ll always have your back, because I’m never turning mine on you. I can think of two people who love you at least as much (if not more) than I do, and the doors of Tribble Towers are always wide open to you, whenever you need us ❤
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I wrote this piece end to end without a pause or break. I let my mind just offer up the words, one after another, without any conscious thought of where they might take me: this was an exercise in stream of consciousness writing.
That is not to say that this isn’t honest or accurate: this does reflect the drift of my thoughts when I’m afflicted by depression. Which is a lot of the time, although I can usually function well enough.
I was at a funeral on Monday, and it left me thinking a lot about life, loss and grief. We deal with so much in our lives, and it’s kind of remarkable how well we do often cope. Until we don’t, and that’s when friends really count.
I’m not on my own these days, but the legacy of years feeling isolated is hard to move beyond. Thank you for being there ❤
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I know what you mean. I pictured myself alone at 40 (back in my late 20s) – living in a static caravan with a motorbike (or trike, preferably), my guitar and a bottle of good whisky for company. It’s what I actually wanted for myself, but then life intervened and a good time was *not* had. But it eventually led me to where I belong 🙂
Always there for you, you know that xx
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Sending tons of love and empathy Alex, much resonates. Your voice is needed.
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Thank you Sonja. Much love and hugs to you xx