Waging Wars

Jeez, emotions suck. As in really. I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired before and its still not over. The waves still come crashing. For fucks sakes. Fucking insecurity and fear driving me insane. I’ve been crying, I’ve been talking, I’ve been writing and I’ve been praying. But almost anything sets me off. Fuck man. REJECTION. Where the fuck does that come from? Who the hell did something so terrible to me at one stage of my life that I cannot function now? I’m actually considering giving up everything. I sat on the edge of my bed last night and said out loud that I need a drink, but that’s not what I need. I don’t know what will make this better or make this go away. I really don’t. Today I was considering giving up the program and just not going to meetings anymore. That’s like cutting off my own nose to spite my face, but my insides do not say that. I want nothing to do with people. I literally want to stop existing when I feel like this. I want to die, but I’m not willing to kill myself. Too fucking sober to do it. I hate myself. I really do, and I cannot blame anyone for not wanting to spend any time with me, for if they see me as I see me they would hate me too. I’m screwed. Doomed to be for fucking ever by myself while the rest of the world goes merrily on its way. Fucking social skills of a rock. And same goes for the looks department. Fucking pity the doctor saved my life when I was born and none of the damn suicide attempts worked. Now I remember why it happened. My biggest fear was that people would look at me and see right through me and see what a horrible person I am. I guess they do. They see now what I see when I look at myself. Makes me want to throw up and kill it. Stab out the eyes, cut out the heart. Live no more to take up space and cause trouble and havoc and be a nuisance to others. Black hatred filled heart. I do not deserve to be here. I do not deserve to live and get anything in this life. The rejection I get is a mirror of what I deserve. That is what people see. They see my black soul. They see my doubts and my fears and the fact that I cannot talk to people and I cannot show people what goes on or even tell them. No one has ever taught me how to do it. And I am afraid that now it might be too late and all the chances that I had on the life that I might have lived are gone. Am I going to drink tonight? I doubt it. It’s not really what I want to do. I really just want to rip my heart out. And sleep for a lifetime. But that is not meant to be.