Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Hello, I'm good for nothing, won't you love me just the same?

It’s three-thirty in the morning; the radio was playing some sort of upbeat song before I turned it off.  I need to be asleep.  I have class in a couple hours, but I can’t turn my head off.

I don’t fit.  I know that. 

I also know that I have depression.  I have good times and not so good times.  Then there the times that my demons just gnaw and gnaw and gnaw away at me.

I’m broken.
All I can do is break my child in the same way.
I already broke my child.
It’s useless for me to be around.

I can go on.  But, the thing is, I know that no one wants to be around the real me.  Everyone has this idea that I’m quirky but fine in the long run.  I can see it in their eyes.

I wonder what they see in mine.

The old urge to just run away is so strong.  There’s only one thing that’s keeping me around.  And I’m so afraid that all I’m doing is breaking him in ways that can’t be fixed.

Like I can’t be fixed.

Have you ever seen an old classic movie called ‘FREAKS’?  I feel like I would make those folks seem normal.

I spend every day wearing masks that other people want to see that I often don’t know who I really am.  Except something no one wants to see.

I’m supposed to be the responsible one.  I’m the one that supposed to have some sort of sarcastic quip ready for the right moment.  I’m the one people can turn to.  I’m the one that holds it all together.

But…I’m not.

I try so hard, but I can’t.  But I have to.

I’m left holding pieces that don’t make any sense to me.  I don’t read sheet music and they want me to play something for them. 

Somehow I’m able to fake it.

I’m just tired of it all. 

I mean, I’m thirty something years old and I haven’t done anything remotely considered productive in about four years. 

I keep trying and expecting different results, but the same damned thing keeps happening.  How stupid can I be?
I often feel like some…specimen locked away in a glass box with people going ‘ew’.

I want to believe that it’ll turn out alright.  That I won’t always be some sort of fuck-up.

And in a few hours, I’ll get up and try for something new and just get kicked to trying.

 Yeah, I know what she's singing about.

No comments:

Post a Comment