I'm all surrounded...

...by the things I thought I'd put away.

There's a pile in the closet; that's where I threw some yesterdays. I thought I heard them say "come out with your hands up - so we can blow you away." And then I walked out the door, to get blown wide open, by the things I put away. I'm all surrounded... (Ian Thornley)


I feel as if I'm snarling, raw, and lashing out from some intangible corner I've found myself backed into, making a sort of futile attempt to rescue the parts of me that were abandoned and left to drift long, long ago. Overall, not an easy thing to do.

At times, I yearn for an understanding word, a knowing, comforting look. Yet I manage to sabotage that. Either in reality or in my head, which is basically the same thing. If a hand reaches for me in friendship, love, anything... I am just as apt to pounce and draw blood as I am to accept it; even moreso, actually. I make my doubts and fears their doubts and fears. At least in my eyes.

I don't know how to fix this. I'm reaching the point in several areas of my life where I've started lashing out and making people undeserving victims of my own dark, uncertain feelings. People I'd never want to hurt. But I can feel it. I push as far as I can and push so hard that they most often get pushed right out of my life. I've learned that in my own twisted little way, it is a coping mechanism, albeit a poor one. If I push them enough, they'll say "That LiVEwIRe is such a bitch; I don't need this...". And they are right. And I've succeeded in hurting them as a safety precaution... if I offend them, they'll leave and in turn, will not have the opportunity to hurt me. Nor I them. I feel that I am actually bestowing a kindness on them by using this 'gentle' method. Saving us both from impending doom. In the end, I'm forcing what I fear.

How fucked is this? I know, I'm not giving them the chance to be who they are, I am judging them on no pertinent basis, I am an idiot. I know all of this. And believe it or not, I am an intelligent, caring person that would do absolutely anything for you. Somewhere along the line, some wires got crossed and I don't have any rewiring skills tucked away anywhere. Or the wiring is obsolete... not sure.

So here I sit, morphing into this fearful, exposed nerve. I show my gratitude to others by resenting the fact that they are showing me the love and kindness I so want; just waiting for the slightest sign (which is in all actuality 'nothing') to slip on the mask of a snarling beast. I've gotten rather good at this with years of practice. Most often I don't see it coming until the weight of it falls completely. No one else sees it coming either. I'm so ashamed of this behavior that I've found a way to hide it until the last possible moment. Then it's all done for anyway.

I am tired of possessing the ability to be so hurtful, even though I know I do it to prevent hurting or being hurt... yes, I know that doesn't make sense. Somewhere though, I must be convinced that it does. I have truthfully come to believe that my harsh control is the equivalent of compassion. This is a small part of me that is typically hidden and rarely surfaces but I feel it looming and it scares the hell out of me.

The last few weeks have been trying in this arena, to say the least. If my chest doesn't either explode or implode from the pressure, I'll be amazed. This is just not the 'me' I usually am. I am usually justifiably happy or sad, I love and cry, I swear at poor drivers and really follow my own lead. I can find something to laugh about just about anywhere and my smile is mere nanoseconds from erupting at any given moment.

But this overwhelming feeling... it's too much. It's become some sort of pathetic self-fulfilling prophecy of sorts and it is exacting too high a toll. I'm tired of being scared and punishing others as a result from my gloomy little corner.

This isn't me. It's a part of me, of that there's no doubt, but it is taking over. That's not what I'd refer to as a 'life'. It's got to stop, soon; somehow.