The ones you love already left
Say your piece and moving on
When morning wakes you I'll be gone"
-Innerpartysystem
Being someone with such low self-esteem, I really have a hard time believing that I’m more than an erected mass of flesh. It doesn’t help that my parents have never been the most supportive in the world. And I always hate to bash my parents but I do tend to gravitate toward them in regards to who might be responsible for how I turned out. But I don’t think I necessarily blame them and even if I do, I don’t blame them for all of it. I claim responsibility for my part. Maybe they’ve played a role in how I’ve come to be but I know it wasn’t intentional. I feel bad because I know they love me, even if they don’t show it. So, I don’t want to say bad things about them and I’m not really saying anything bad, just merely pointing out that this is what happened and my parents are probably involved to some degree. And I wonder what kids do when they don’t feel appreciated and validated. Most of them turn to friends, no? I think friendships are important because sometimes they can mend holes that parents might have missed or even created. Friends can sometimes take on the role of a parental figure. We expect our friends to take care of us when we are in need. We expect them to make us feel better, to support us when we venture into unknown territory. They give great advice and are just there when we need to vent. But what happens when you don’t have those kinds of friends? Even worse, what happens when the friends that used to do that don’t anymore? Where do you turn? What are you to do?
I used to be really depressed and really down on myself. It was the friends I made that helped pull me out of my depression. When I would draw, I’d find positivity. People thought I was good and told me how jealous they were. Immediately, I felt like I was worth something. Someone thought I was good enough to actually stir up an emotion within them. I wasn’t just vapor. It felt good. And when I began writing, I found all this support once again. I love getting notes and comments on my poetry and daily rants. It makes me feel worthy, like I am worth knowing and being cared for because most of the time, I don’t feel that way. No one knows me fully and there’s a part of me that likes it that way and there’s a part of me that doesn’t. The part of me that likes it does so because I know if someone knew the real me, they’d be disgusted. I am incredibly selfish and uncaring sometimes. I’m easily jealous and can hold grudges forever. My spirit is sour and if anyone were ever to catch a whiff they’d no longer want to be around me. But the part of me that doesn’t like people not knowing the real me feels that way because I feel like I’m fake. I put on these heirs of goodness and virtue but sometimes I don’t always practice what I preach and it just makes me dislike myself even more than I already do. I feel I can’t be as open as I want to be, that I keep people at a distance. As I mentioned, I do it to avoid people turning away but I’m screwed no matter what I do. Either people can see the real me and hate me or I can always hold people back and no one will ever know who I am. Either way, I’m alone. Either way, I’m missing out on something so important, that human connection, that electricity that we all share, that feeling that flows throughout all of our bodies, that link that connects us all together.
And it got to a point where I started to not believe people when they’d compliment me. Oh, they were just being nice. Oh, they didn’t want to hurt my feelings. Oh, they are my friend so of course they are gonna say nice things. I didn’t believe in myself so I relied on others to believe in me. And eventually that wasn’t even enough. I didn’t even believe in them in their praise of me. Yet, I won’t say it wasn’t nice to hear. Although I might not believe someone, that doesn’t mean I don’t want them to compliment me. Although I’m dead, those residual human wants still linger. And all humans want to be complimented, to be praised, and that want hasn't left me, even though my breath has.
It’s nice to be someone’s friend. It’s nice to have a lot of friends. But when you are someone’s number one, that’s an extra special honor. You are the person they want to call when something good happens or when they need a shoulder to cry on. You are the person they want to hang out with because you make them laugh the most and make them examine things they’d normally never think about. You encourage them when they do well and chastise them when they screw up but it’s always coming from a place of love. You want what’s best for them and they want the best for you as well. It’s a beautiful feeling, maybe the closest feeling I’ve ever felt to love. You almost take on a responsibility role, an unwritten rule to take care of this person, to always be there for them because you’re the first person they rely on. You are their superhero, stepping in when they need help, there to talk, there to laugh and take away the pain. You help them sort out their thoughts and become a better person. You get into trouble with them, you get them out of trouble, you take care of them and mend those holes that whoever might have left behind.
And it’s a beautiful experience to be someone’s number one, to be someone’s everything. Out of all the people in the world, or at least out of all the people they know, they trust you, want you, need you. Even if you two aren’t as close as you used to be, even if things cool down, even if uncontrollable events separate you two, it’s nice to know you’ll always have that role of being their number one. It’s nice to know that you left something positive behind, left an impression on them that no one else can fill.
Alternately, it’s the worst feeling when you realize you aren’t that person’s number one anymore. They go away for a long time and come back and you find out there’s been someone else. Someone else has taken your place and not only that, but they’ve filled your role better than you did because they’ve been bumped up to number one. It’s a hollowing experience. It makes you question your role, makes you feel like you didn’t do a good enough job, like you are less than you thought you were. How could someone else sweep in and take over so effortlessly? Was I not good enough? Apparently not. And to be bumped down to number two or three or maybe to not show up on the list at all brings back those insecurities and inadequacies all over again. I’m no longer anyone’s number one. Back where I started. All those years I put into the friendship and it seems like such a waste. Maybe it’s not. Maybe that impression is still there, only it doesn’t resonate like it once used to. Maybe they just forgot how much of an impact you made but it doesn’t matter the circumstances, it still hurts. I feel abandoned. I feel like I’ve been left behind. I feel like I’m not good enough, that same old feeling that creeps back in again because no one was there to force it back. Something has broken.
And all other future praises and positivity will feel empty because I’ve heard it all before. All the talk that was never backed up by action. All the compliments that were nothing more than pretty words. And it feels like no one can say anything anymore to make me believe them because I believed someone else the first time around and was thrown away so how can I believe anyone else? I, someone’s number one, was trashed. If my number one can do that to me, there’s no safety when it comes to anyone else doing it to me. I’ve become an open target and everyone has a weapon. Words, words, words. It’s all just words to me now. Sure, it’s pretty words and I like hearing them but I’d love more to believe them and I just don’t think I can right now. It’s all been said before, those reassurances that they won’t leave, those positive encouragements that I am not like the rest, that they aren't like the rest. But I am like the rest. And so are they. When they look back on me, they’ll just compile me with all the other average guys they’ve encountered. I won’t stand out in any kind of way. I’ll sink into obscurity, which just brings up all my insecurities again. Once again, I feel like I’m just average. Everything about me is mediocre and no one can say anything different because I’ve heard different before but that difference was disconnected when I was dropped.
It’s all silly, really, to be so affected by someone, someone who doesn’t know how greatly they influenced me, who doesn’t have a clue or a care about how much they hurt me. ‘Cause the funny thing is that I wasn’t just her number one. She was mine. And now she’s shown me that she’s just like all the others as well. And it makes me examine what we truly were versus who I thought we were. I have to dig deep to figure out what “us” meant. What were we exactly? More than friends yet less than lovers? Pen pals, good buddies, friends with benefits, star crossed lovers or just two messed up people who understood what it was like to be stuffed with creativity yet stifled by craziness? I don’t know and I feel knowing will determine what we are now. By figuring out our exact situation, I can figure out how I should proceed.
It’s hard for me to determine even how I felt about her because I’ve never really been into the whole social scene of girls and hooking up and pursuing relationships. I’ve been too focused on being fat and gross to develop social skills and even sexual attraction toward girls. I always told myself no one would want me because of how disgusting I was and so I held those kinds of urges at bay until eventually, I think they gave up and stopped happening all together. I know that I liked her a lot. I know that she wasn’t like all the other girls (at least at the time) and that I liked her more than most. I don’t’ know if there was a romantic attraction or if I was just attracted to the fact that she was attracted to me. Maybe I just liked how she made me feel. But isn’t that a big part of liking someone? Don’t you need to like how they make you feel if you want to be around them? I just wonder if it was all selfish and I wonder now if my anger is simply selfishness. She wasn’t there for me when I needed her. As much as I tried to be there for her, I wanted her there for me as well. She wasn’t the only one going through hard times. But she left me to fend for myself. And I guess it doesn’t really matter exactly what I felt for her. All that matters is how much I felt and I felt a great deal and the fact that she couldn’t be bothered to at least let me know she had to go stings. If she left everyone, if she cut off communications with all her friends, shouldn’t she have at least told me her hibernation plans? At least given me a heads up as to her sudden disappearance? It just wasn’t fair to me and I don’t think that’s a selfish thing to say.
And I guess when two people come together who have more than the average issues, it’s going to be a harder relationship to maintain.
And I find myself conflicted, as I always do. There’s a part of me that feels my emotions are justified and there’s another part of me that feels like I’m in the wrong. This is why I have trouble confronting people. I’m incredibly passive aggressive because I feel most of the time I’m wrong when I feel offended or upset with someone. I’ll admit that most of the time no one means to make me angry but it does happen and that’s why I tend to avoid people instead of dealing with my problems with them. I don’t’ want them thinking I’m crazy or that I’m making something out of nothing because they might not want to be around me anymore in fear that they’ll slip up and anger me without meaning to again. I don't want people walking on eggshells around me. And with this person, I know she didn’t mean to hurt me but that doesn’t mean that she didn’t. That doesn’t mean that her actions don’t have consequences but instead of me talking to her about them I’ll just write about it and keep it to myself like I always do. It’s so frustrating because I’m always second guessing myself, always wondering if I’m making the right decision when I do or say something. I’m never sure of myself and it’s hard to deal with. My constant indecisiveness will be the second death of me. This is why I cut people off. It’s easier to run away rather than confront. It’s easier to dispose of the problem instead of properly handling them and I feel that’s why I’ve made such a huge mess of friendships of the past. I’ve just let things dangle until they’ve died and that’s no way to deal with anything.
I’m stuck. I’m conflicted and on the fence and I feel bad about the situation and then make myself feel worse by how I handle it. I’d be more confrontational if it weren’t for my insecurities and lack of faith in myself and my feelings. I guess I’ve just been told throughout my life that everything I have felt has been improper, that my excitement has always been overwrought or that my sadness has been unjustified. And so now, when I feel things, I question them, wonder if it’s an appropriate feeling or if I’m just blowing things out of proportion or coming out of left field with my feelings. It’s too hard to deal with so I simply don’t. And so I’m done with her. I don’t know if there can be any resolution because I’ll always wait for her to do it again. I’ll wait for her to run off and not speak to me for months at a time and then pop up like nothing happened. I can’t be friends with someone like that. I can’t wait for her to deal with her problems and then try to pick up where we left off. I've got my own afterlife to live and my own damage to control and I can't wait for her to help me out anymore 'cause she won't.
Apparently, she came out of her funk a while ago. Some guy pulled her from her darkness and then broke her heart so now she's back to where she started...or even farther down than that and I have a couple of problems with that. Why couldn't I have pulled her out? Why wouldn't she let me be the one...if I was her number one? I wouldn't have broken her heart, wouldn't have put her right back where I found her. And before he left her, if she was doing better, if he was making her feel alive again, why couldn't she be bothered to get in contact with me, to tell me she was doing somewhat better, to acknowledge something, to just reach out to me?
I feel totally thrown away and it's not a feeling I would like to repeat with fervor. I hate to be one of those people, the ones that have given up on love because they've been too hurt. "No one else is worth giving a chance because they'll break my heart just like the other one did." But that's about where I'm at. In my logical mind, I know that's silly. Not all girls are the same. Not all of them will hurt me. I have to believe that because that's what I tell my dumped friends. And I don't just say it to make them feel better. I know it's true. And I guess I should practice what I preach because I'll lose credibility if I don't. Not all girls are the same. Not all guys are the same. But I'm not the same as everyone else, either. So, maybe I should be exempt from my own rules and logic. Yeah, let's go with that.
my heart shrieks out for you
but the wire you chewed through
the blood the bone and the glue
broke the bond that bound us two
like a tortoise you slip inside your shell
thinking scars and guitars will make you well
but you’re only burning in your own private hell
can’t reach out your hand so you pull back to yell
you fall and shiver and scratch and scream
but it doesn’t do any good or mean anything
no one knows why you’re hurt or what it means
sealing out others while you split at the seams
you’re unconcerned with those you hurt
feeling distant and bitter and callous and curt
wallowing and swallowing and eating your own dirt
spreading blood along your hands smearing on your shirt
running and spitting and spinning spineless
vacant stare your victimization is not crimeless
the wake of hurt you left is vast and timeless
spreading and dreading and loose and lineless
so I’ll write myself to sleep and worry myself awake
contemplating the day that we finally break
no more decorations or icing on this cake
wondering how much more of this tearing I can take
no choice but to write passive aggressive poetry
and lament about the times you meant the most to me
and regret how now you’re red to me, dead to me
floating in the sewage of your own entropy
if you’re gonna leave I guess I have to let you go
but before you depart there’s something you ought to know
you picked me up and held my hand so I would follow
but you cut me off shut me down and left me irrevocably hollow
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