To My Therapist

I love how you don’t judge me. Hey, maybe you do judge me but you never let me know it, so it’s the same thing.

I love how I can tell you my deepest darkest secrets and you say things like, “Hey, that’s ok, it’s just a kink, everyone has kinks! “

Or, “Well, it’s admirable that you can admit that about yourself, most people can’t”, when I’m really expecting you to throw up in disgust at what I just told you.

I know it’s your job, but thank you. Thank you for being so supportive and non-judgmental. For telling me how amazing I am to have come through what I have and still be on this side of crazy. Thank you for making me feel normal, at least for the hour we spend together.

Fighting tears

 

Several times a day, for no reason at all I feel like I'm going to start crying. It is so frustrating and makes me angry.

For two days my friend hurt my feelings and made me wonder why I try so hard to keep our friendship going.  I complain that I don't have a lot of friends and I feel it is because of me, but I know I have done all I can possibly do to make this friendship work and now I'm at the point of giving up. This is not my shortcomings. For once I know that I have not done anything but my very best.
I kept telling myself she was worth it, but now I'm giving up. I'm pretty much giving up on everyone except Phil and Deborah and DJ. They are the only ones that give anything back emotionally. So I'm done. All my relationships except those three are so shallow and superficial and it's a waste of time.

A thin pane of glass

Sometimes I feel that all there is between me and the crazy is a thin pane of glass.

I'm suppose to talk to the little scared girl inside of me, at least that is what my therapist says...but I don't want to. She is too frightening. I want to forget she ever existed.
She was alone at lot and lonely, left with dark, strange thoughts.
What I remember today. Sitting on the kitchen countercounter,reading one of the poems I had written to my mama while she cooks supper.All my poems were so full of angst. I was emo before the word was invented.

Love Lies Bleeding

I’m bleeding out. You have sliced the veins of my heart open and the blood is draining out of me in torrents.

You have cut me so deeply, I’m not sure the wound will ever heal

You Don’t Know Me

You think you know me, but what you see isn’t real. I won’t show you the inside of me, I know what you will do.

Nothing

There is nothing unique about me, nothing special. I'm  happy with my photography until I see that there is nothing unusual about my pictures. I've always wanted to be special, to be valued. But there is nothing of value in me.  I love to cook and bake and share but, so what?  I hate how ordinary I am.

Self Hate

There are days that I hate myself so much that I don't think I can bear it.
I loathe my existence. 
I know that if others knew the real me, knew the things I have done, there would not be a single person that would speak to me.
I would like to rip myself to pieces and scatter them into the sea.