The truth is… I’ve been hiding again.
The truth is… I don’t know if posting this is a good idea. (Oh, hell, I’m sure it’s not. But apparently, I’m an idiot.)
The truth is… sometimes talking about certain things make me feel worse… so hiding is okay… it’s the answer.
But the truth is… I wish I had someone to hide with. I need to get out of my own head — the really screwed up part. But when I hide, I’m alone. And with no one or nothing to wake the rest of my brain, the screwed up part takes control and does all it can to slay the rest of me. The rest of me… There is far more to me than the screwed up part! I don’t want it crushed. I’m already worried no one sees it.
The truth is… I know I have friends here, but I cannot shake the feeling that no one wants to hear my crap… or have anything to do with me when they read it.
And I understand completely.
The truth is… even when I need to vent, as I always tell my (thick-headed) husband, I’m not looking for answers or solutions (I need to find those on my own). I just need support.
[Although, hey… if someone has a miracle solution, lay it on me.]
Hell, the truth is… often, I don’t even want to vent! I want to forget! But, see above. Being alone, the wrong pieces of my brain take charge… and I can’t forget. I can’t escape. I want to hang out with a friend and have fun. I want to have a nice conversation with someone who cares if I smile. I want to be silly (and sometimes dirty because that’s how I roll). I want to laugh. I want to rip on others (I know, I’m a bitch, but come on, that can be loads of fun. Or I am truly just a bitch). I want a hug when I need it… and when I don’t.
But the sad truth is… I’m pretty sure I’ve already driven friends away with my messed up head. And I really do understand. I blame no one… except me. I’m going through a bit of hell right now. But I’m still me. And the rest of me… the non-fucked-up part… is still pretty fucking cool. I wish the fucked-up part didn’t cancel that out.
The ironic truth is… I have been trying to look on the bright side! Trying to look for the positive. Trying not to let it all get to me. Fake it until it feels real. [Ugh… so many clichés… ugh… gross.]
However, the truth is… that doesn’t work. Mostly, it feels worse. And it feels wrong… because a lot of the time (not all the time), it’s a lie. And I think people see through it… probably contributing to the loss of friends. Which sucks.
Talking about my loneliness makes people run from me… which breeds more loneliness. What’s a girl to do?
But… the truth is… I’ve had a panic attack on 4 of the last 7 days.
How am I doing? Should I start my acting career? Did anyone know?
I hope I’m doing I good job because I’ve been torturing myself trying to hide all of it. From everyone.
Of course, if I was doing a good job, I’m not anymore…