Hecatoncheires

I can appreciate it when someone is exceptionally competent at something even when, or especially if it’s something that is to my own detriment. If you can lay a trap and I never even suspected it, I’d be spending my time falling into a pit admiring your handy work, truly.

I feel the same way about the rhetoric or circumstances of my situation.

“I really need help, I need to talk to someone”

“Talking really doesn’t solve anything, I can’t be helped”

It’s suffocating. I’m so exasperated with this constant 24/7 anguish. Equally distressing, is knowing that even if I did talk to someone about it, or get on certain meds, or whatever other solution could be attempted, it would bring equal or greater issues.

“It was helpful to talk to them, now they have to go do something else and I’m by myself again, I can’t keep bothering them, I can’t keep complaining about the same things.”

Yknow this sort of thing.

No matter where I turn, no matter where I go or who I talk to, there it is, and there it’s been, for years and years and years.

A lot of it is my fault, a lot of it circumstance and bad luck. Okay, some of it is my fault and a lot of it is circumstance and bad luck. Either way, no matter the reasoning, I am still met with this suffocation.

And then watching the effects that has on me, my life, my relationships, my hobbies, my dreams goals and aspirations is another layer of distress added on to it all.

Wow. It’s just hitting me now that I have no way out.

A perfect trap, constant punishment that perpetuates, replenishes and intensifies itself.

A hydra with ten thousands arms.

The horrors of the world around me and those my mind conjures up.

I wish I could create things that make people happy, laugh and smile. Sometimes I do, I think.

Sometimes.

I can’t beat it wow.

I lose, whether now or a year from now or ten or twenty.

Wow, I can’t believe it.

I actually lost.

I can’t beat it.

That’s amazing, my fate was always sealed.

How magnificent!

“you just have to accept that you’re always going to feel like shit.”

One of the punishments was being made to kneel in the corner of the room. Hard tile, concrete, I’m hearing talk of kneeling on rice too.

I think my parents didn’t want me. Not really, I think they were forced into it because of societal operations, expectations, ways of being etc. I think deep down inside, the young people they were are angry about having to give up their lives and dreams and so on and so forth. I think they took that anger out on me. I want to say that they didn’t love me, it certainly feels that way when I look back at the way things were. If they hated me, were angry at me, didn’t love me it would explain everything and everything would make sense. I could take some solace in that. It doesn’t feel true or correct to say they didn’t love me though, even if it does feel that way.