twicefucked

I don’t know what’s worse – irrational anger or irrational sadness. Or maybe it’s the fact that they, so often, happen in tandem; my psyche like a metronome, clicking from angry to sad to angry to sad in a hellacious rhythm of torture.

What will it take to stop being gang-raped by these demons, my happiness violated repeatedly by these brutish thoughts and emotions. Feelings that are supposed to be therapeutic, cathartic – a form of release – are mutilated and used as a form of punishment. For what, I do not know.

It’s so fucked up because – are you ready for this? – I don’t know if I want it to stop. Sometimes I feel like I’m more myself than ever when I’m caught in this double team – feeling everything so acutely and deeply.

I almost don’t know how to enjoy smiling anymore. I used to feel joy as deeply as sorrow, but each time it returns it’s a little duller and a little less engulfing. The entire time it’s with me, I’m waiting for it to leave. It’s like attachment disorder – I’m scaring it away before it has a chance to leave me on its own.

I guess you already knew I’m fucked up. I’ve never kept that a secret. I wonder if there’s anything that will come as a surprise anymore – to me, or to anyone reading this.

Misery is my fucking security blanket, keeping me safe and warm in my despair. If I can’t beat it, I might as well learn to love it. Or at least try to make sense of these demons clawing at me.

Where’s my safety pin?

There are so many voices in my goddamn head.