I'm not doing too good. I've just been sick for an entire month, and it's taken a lot out of me, but it's more than that.
I can't even describe how I feel. Wrong? Too influenced? Scared. Definately scared. Out of breath.
My oldest friends who've known me for a decade would understand how I feel about social gatherings right now. They've seen it before. That distance and unease I get from time to time. I remember K nor understanding it, being hurt by it, until H confirmed it. That it wasn't a personal thing, sometimes I just need to be left alone.
The new people in my life do not understand it. That frustrates me. Or rather, being told it's not normal frustrates me. And sort of hurts, too. It makes me feel alienated and wrong. Like I'm not allowed to be like that.
To me, it's not that strange a feeling. I was raised an only child, I spent a lot of time alone. And I learned to like solitude. Not constantly, but from time to time.
Being told it's not okay... It saddens me. Why should that part of me not be accepted? I accept it.
Sharing anything at all these days, whether it be thoughts, feelings or opinions.. I hate it, I absolutely hate it. Everytime I try, I end up hurting someone, or feeling hurt myself. And my ways always seem to be the wrong ones.. Like this is probably also a wrong way. But it's A way, and one I can handle right now. It's my way.
I feel disheartened when it comes to sharing. And I have for quite a while. I don't know how to change it, though.
I miss my friends. I miss going out with the bat. I miss talking to her. I miss feeling like she has time for me. I miss feeling like she listens to me. Or even cares enough to send me a text when I'm seriously ill and could use a shoulder to share my worries. I feel abandoned. And it just doesn't help to be told she's busy when you can read her other friends' blogs about late night beers or parties you can't go to without ruining the mood. Or leaving your boyfriend behind, for that matter.
I probably do need that shrink I'm seeing next month. Though I'm getting a bit sick of the expectations. No, literally, I get nauseated. Cause it sometimes sounds like I'm a dog being sent off to be fixed. And then everything will be good.
And what if I'm just changing, then what? If there's nothing to fix. Or, at least, nothing to fix that'll make it better. Then what? I'm a lost cause?
There's still the fears. The anxiety about talking to someone who doesn't know me. Someone I'm supposed to tell about my crappy childhood, and expect to tell me how I just want my daddy's approval or some other bs. Someone who'll tell me there's no reason to shield up, even if you've been stabbed so much you're all scartissue.
I just want to be me.
