Such a peculiar feeling really, to see day by day, people coming into the place I work, in such unity. I have felt like that only a handful of times. I see everyone laughing and smiling, without a care in the world, those who have never known such evil and cruelty exists in the world, or perhaps they do but they care not for it, because it has never touched them.

How I long for the feeling, to be a part of something, anything. I feel so out of touch, out of reach. I feel my soul has drifted into this vastly dark place and I fear there may be no way of retrieving it. It’s as if I see a part of me sinking down into the water, further and further falling from my grasp, as I desperately try to reach for it. I see myself looking up, hopeless. Will I ever feel like a part of something, a family? I am afraid it may never happen.

I came into this world alone and I will die alone but in the innocence of my youth I never thought that I would have to continue to feel alone throughout. I try too hard to seek connection and I push people away. I don’t need them, I just want something. If someone doesn’t see me for the beautifully complicated soul that I harbor then, why would I keep trying? It’s like I’m reliving this endless cycle of what I’ve always known. Must I continue to only seek connection with those that clearly do not wish for the same things as I do? It’s an illness, I think.

Where do I go from here then? I could erase the numbers, block the “friends” and be left with the same thing that kept Cody and I in this vicious whirlpool of despair, constantly pushing and pulling as if we were simply rowing our own boats into further solitude and despair. I feel like he felt, I believe. I feel like nothing I ever do is truly going to make me happy. The only difference between him and I is that I will continue this plight until the day that I die naturally, though I do toy with the idea of getting into dangerous things so that I might cut short this miserable life that I lead. Nothing changes it, no matter how hard I try. When I stop trying then worse things happen that make me fight for my life. Maybe one day I’ll just stop fighting; I’m tired of fighting. I’ve fought my whole life for life in general, for independence, for love, and all I have is myself and my dog. What a meager existence.
Even when I’m doing well for myself I feel disconnected. I have all of this wealth that is not monetary and no one to share it with; it’s the most frustrating thing in the world. I will not settle though; I will die before I say that good enough is good enough for me. So where do all these standards leave me? They leave me with integrity and if I take anything with me in this life, it is that I lived with it even to my own detriment. I lived as an honest, loving, deeply wounded, and flawed person. Why should anyone choose me? Why would anyone NOT choose me? If only someone would see what I am worth. I say my own self-worth does not lie in the approval nor in the disapproval of any one person yet do I really mean that? My daughter doesn’t talk to me. I have never had a serious relationship, one where a man cared so deeply for me that I knew it every day.

I am feeling like it may be the point where I honestly start becoming cold. I have tried to show people that I have qualities that almost every man would want in a woman but it still feels like it’s not enough. I still feel like I’m not enough. Part of that is my own high standards for myself. Perhaps when I achieve the goals that I set out to achieve, then I will be content in my solitude. I need to find what makes me feel connected. I want art; I want music, laughter, and a sense of community. I’m looking for it. I want someone to see the beauty that I see in all things but I don’t know how to share it. How do I share it when I’m all alone? Maybe that’s the point though. Maybe I’m supposed to come to the realization that that is enough, that I see all this beauty and I’m the only one lucky enough to take it all in. Maybe that’s my real community, the energy around me.

The families together, it all seems so fake to me. I feel resentment and anger, and in them, a general sense of pompousness.  Is that really what success looks like? If it does then I don’t really want it. I don’t ever want to live a day where I think I’m better than anyone or that I’ve earned the right to treat another human being as if they were not good enough to be in my servitude. What a horrible way to live out your days, by alienating others around you. The more I look at people, the more I wonder if my sense of disconnect is that I don’t think there’s anyone else like me out there. I feel like all these people are garbage and lack a real, whole spirit. I feel like I don’t belong because my heart is different and the fact that those around me don’t have a heart like mine, makes me think that it’s all just futile.

What is the end supposed to look like? I have no idea; I’ve always been here, in the dark, alone.

Author: jessicaambateman

I am a survivor of childhood abuse on the verge of speaking out. I have waited my whole life to have the luxury of spilling my guts and blogging is going to become part of that journey.

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