Broken Doll

So I tell you it was extremely hurtful of you to insult me.

And you respond by calling me crazy.

That’s some kind of irony right there.

It wouldn’t have killed you to apologize. Really.

i need to be shoved into a wall thrown to the ground dragged by the hair pinned

beaten

til i’m purple til i’m bleeding til i’m screaming

and then beat me again til everything breaks til there’s nothing left

and then maybe it will stop hurting

just one moment where i realized my therapist is starting to give up on me.

i’ve kept going because she seems to have a much better grasp of what she’s doing than the last one. maybe this one can figure out how to get me there. maybe this one can.

but tonight…

tonight i leave feeling like nothing we do in that room is going to make a damn bit of difference.

I’m watching this happen. It happens all the time and it’s happening now. Someone else gets hit by something big, unexpected, painful, emotionally trying… and his friends rally around him. They offer support, they offer comfort, they try to cheer him up, or try to distract him. They understand and care about what he’s going through.

But not for me. My life falls apart, I reach out, and no one is there.

I have been utterly, absolutely cut out of everyone’s life.

The whole world has decided that I don’t deserve it. That I’m the only one who doesn’t deserve it.

And I can scream and rail about how I deserve better than this and it’s completely fucking useless because I can deserve it til the cows come home but that won’t ever make me have it. It doesn’t matter what I think because I can’t make it happen.

So this is my choice. I can be honest, I can be myself, and spend the rest of my life utterly alone because everyone will abandon me, at the first sign that yes, I do in fact have feelings too. Or I can lie, I can hide, I can pretend to be something I’m not just to keep someone, anyone around.

This is my choice. Die from emotional starvation, or survive knowing that my “friends” don’t, in fact, give a flying fuck about me.

What kind of choice is that??

Not a whisper. Not a phone call. If not for work I’d never leave the house because there sure as hell isn’t anyone inviting me to spend time with them.

You lied to me. All of you. You told me you cared.

…and I’m just tired.

All of my friends — the “real” ones, the ones I very very carefully selected, the ones I was sure of, reserved that title for, loved and esteemed in a category well beyond the acquaintances I chat casually with in a coffee shop — they’re all gone.

I checked my phone logs. The last time someone called me who wasn’t my Mom, a doctor, or a wrong number was Dec. 23.

I spend nights alone now. The TV can’t hold my attention because it can’t crowd out the silence that crushes into me. And it’s a piss-poor substitute for a real human voice.

No one wants me. This has been true since before I was born. It’s still true now. And I still don’t get it. I’ve heard the stupid platitudes. Be yourself. Love yourself. And people will be attracted to that, people will WANT that.

Except that it has never worked. It has never been true. I gave up pretense in the third grade. I have been unapologetically me. And still when I let someone in, when I let them see the genuine me behind all the social conventions, EVERY ONE of them turns around and walks away.

As if feeling is a mortal flaw. As if loving is.

(I stand here watching all of you who swore that you cared about me, that I was important to you, abandon me one by one… how did you expect me to react??)

I give up. I feel nothing but pain; and now, more and more, not even that.

I fall asleep not caring if there will be another day on the other side of the dark.

Since when are problems ever solved by turning your back on them?

What the fuck have I done to any of you to deserve this? The silent treatment isn’t going to mend anything, it’s destroying what little is left!