Consider Me Gone.

I won't come around again.

You depress me with your silence.

You break my heart with your lack of concern or consideration.

I feel like an idiot for spending the weekend wondering what I did to you. You've got no further interest in me and my life -- your silence and distance tells the truth, even when you're unwilling.

I feel stupid for nearly texting you over the night when I was suffering all that pain. It's obvious that you don't care. I promise you won't be receiving anymore updates about my health in the future. Even if I wind up going to the emergency room, dying on the floor... there will be no more updates. I'll stop wasting your time and my money with an unnecessary effort.

I'm the world's biggest idiot because I let myself become convinced everything is my fault and that I'm the one to blame. Well, goddamnit, I'm not falling for the crap anymore. Everything is NOT my fault, and I'm NOT to blame for everything. I'm tired of apologizing for stuff I shouldn't have to apologize for, and I'm tired of licking and kissing the toes of someone who doesn't give a damn about me and my life.

I'm the world's biggest idiot because I let myself believe you actually cared for me. I see it now -- you don't. The past four days have solidified my fear and given it credibility. If you don't want to care about my life, I won't be around for you to not care about. It's as simple as that. I'll shift my attention towards the people who actually DO care about me; the people who actually DO want me around. People who actually DO worry about my health and well-being. People I DON'T have to apologize to every other day. People who DON'T consider me abusive and nasty.

Fuck it. I'm not letting my heart get stepped on again. Go find yourself another stupid person to emotionally ruin and destroy, because you aren't ruining me ever again.

Consider me gone.

Have a nice life.

For the Last Time.

Sometimes you can't hold onto things forever.

Especially when your holding on hurts someone else, repeatedly and relentlessly.

It's past the time for me to stop thinking about myself and start thinking about the other people around me. I've been far too selfish for far too long, and it's caused me to cause a massive amount of misery, pain, turmoil, and grief to someone who doesn't deserve it. Well, I've decided that I'm not going to do it anymore. Again. Ever.

I've been immature, thoughtless, cold, abrasive, selfish, and wrong. About everything. And it's all simply because things weren't going my way.

And, to be honest, they probably never will.

As it turns out, I'm the solitary reason that the daily fights ensued. I was always the one starting things, because I just couldn't simply be happy. No, I had to always find something to complain about. Something to be stupidly angry over. Even if I had to pull something out from a day, week, or month ago. I just couldn't be happy. I just couldn't keep my mouth shut. I just couldn't be a good partner.

I couldn't find hobbies that were acceptable. I couldn't make friends that were acceptable. My activities and friends were the source of multitudes of arguments. And then I turned around and couldn't be accepting of his hobbies and friends, and his were better than mine. I let my jealousy and lack of ability to make anything decent out of myself overtake my common sense, and I became hostile and cruel.

I know now that there's a reason he told me that he had more fun with his friends than he did with me... and it's because anyone would be more fun than a selfish, self-centered brat like me. I used to be angry at the statement, but now I see its truthfulness and validity staring me square in the face. And I can't be angry at honesty.

The whole thing boils down to me being in the wrong no matter which way I turned. I was always slamming things in his face, rubbing his nose in mistakes he never made, shoving statements and accusations down his throat. Everything I said I wouldn't do to someone. It's a wonder to me that he didn't just tell me to fuck off and die in a fire, because I would've told someone abusing me so harshly to do just that. And deep down I know I should do just that. Go fuck off and die in a fire.

I sometimes wish I could do just that. Lay in my room and be engulfed in flames. God knows I'd deserve every ounce of pain that I felt. Or maybe I should force myself to face my fear of drowning. I'd deserve every bit of fear that rushed through my body. I should be beaten within an inch of my life, so that maybe I'd suffer enough brain damage that I'd never be able to think clearly enough to start a fight ever again. So that all I could do was lay in a bed, wasting space like the horrible failure I truly am. Wasting away in a hospital somewhere, locked away from the world so that I can't cause anymore grief. If only I could.

The fact of the matter is, I am incapable of love. I'm incapable of being a good, loving, caring, selfless partner. I'm selfish and refused to give up the source of all the fighting. I allowed my greed to overwhelm me. I thought I could have it all, and now I'm having to see that I can't. And I won't.

So I apologize to him, for all of the turmoil I put him through. All the times I hurt him. All the times I brought him near or to tears. All the times that I verbally assaulted him unprovoked and just because I felt like it. I apologize to him that I was so jealous and greedy for his time that I couldn't make myself like a single thing he did that didn't or couldn't involve me. I knew that if I ever were to produce an ultimatum: pick your hobbies or pick me... I wouldn't be chosen. Well now I'm going to make it so that he doesn't have to choose. He can keep his hobbies, his friends, and his life. He deserves to. He deserves to be happy.

He'll never have to worry about me starting another fight with him for no reason. He'll never have to fear me again. He'll never have to waste his time, energy, and life on me ever again. He can have all the fun he wants and rightfully deserves, and he'll never have to be burdened with the thought that I'm lurking in the shadows, waiting to ruin his day. Because that's all I ever did. His friends won't have to hear about the constant abuse he suffered at the hands of the person who was supposed to protect and respect him. They won't have to hate me -- they can laugh about how stupid I was instead. They can all celebrate my exit from the picture.

I've ruined his life for the last time.

Another Post That'll Go Unread.

Here I go again, writing up something that won't be read by anyone but me. Oh well, at least I'm getting it off my chest.

Today I get to debut my makeover to my family. And while there's a slight bit of excitement brewing in me, there's also a bit of resentment boiling about as well. It's a very crushing blow to one's ego when you get excited about showing somebody something and they either (1) tell you they care and then really don't, (2) get your hopes up that they're as pleased about it as you are and then crash you down, or (3) continuously create reasons as to not bother seeing it. Self-esteem gets knocked down another level, yay.

I did invest a lot of time, money, and energy in this entire thing... and it's been a big upset that my enthusiasm was so squashed. I guess this is why I should never get excited about anything... lesson learned.

Another thing I need to do is take a permanent vow of silence, and just never speak again. Apparently I can't say anything without upsetting somebody, and I'm tired of all the drama that comes with me opening my face. I seriously need to surgically detach my foot and shove it down my throat and sew my mouth shut, because that's all I ever seem to do.

I also need to learn to let things go. It's difficult to hold a conversation with someone the morning after a fight for me. Mainly because I'm selfish and mean and want that person to suffer for hurting or upsetting me. I want them to know that I've been wounded and that I'm angry over it. I've learned to stop waiting for apologies because they never come and it winds up becoming another disappointment on an ever-expanding list. Then again, maybe I don't deserve the respect of an apology... I apparently don't deserve the respect of a mature, adult conversation that settles the dispute and closes the case, so to speak, so why should I think I deserve any apologies, either? If I'd get a conversation (that I DON'T have to instigate myself) or an apology, I'd be more willing to let go of grudges and move on. But since I never get either, I hold on to every petty thing. I guess I'm a true female after all.

But here's something that I don't understand. (And probably never will.) I wind up being left behind. A lot. And apparently I'm not meant to have someone to go to when I begin to get lonely. Apparently I'm meant to be deserted and meant to tolerate the isolation and loneliness on my own, and then sit there and listen to all the great, fun times that I miss out on. And apparently I'm meant to smile and enjoy every minute of it.

Instead, I have broken the rule. I have a best friend that I spend a lot of time with. A best friend who calls me every single day, without me ever having to ask, beg, or otherwise plead. A best friend who, while he annoys the living crap out of me, genuinely cares about me and genuinely wants to spend time with me. A best friend who actually enjoys some of the same hobbies that I do (video games and idiotic YouTube videos). A best friend who has a lot of inside jokes with me because of all the amounts of time we spend together. A best friend who actually notices when I'm not around, and misses me (and isn't ashamed to tell me so!). A best friend who actually makes me feel like I'm worth something.

Yes, I am very close to him -- we were a "couple" for a while at one point in time. Yes, I love him dearly and would hate it if anything were to happen to him. Yes, I don't know what I'd do with myself if I ever lost him. Yes, I talk about him a lot -- but not anywhere near as much as I could. Why do I talk about him so much? Because he and I spend time together. Quality time together where we both are paying equal attention to each other rather than me being drowned out in thirty-thousand other conversations and activities. I talk a lot about anyone who I spend a ton of time with... it's just how I am. Is it sad that I talk more about my best friend than my own boyfriend? Yes, it really is. But you know what... there's nothing I can do about it.

I'm sorry that I naturally gravitate towards people who actually want to give me time and attention.

...

Actually, no. I'm not sorry about it. I shouldn't have to apologize for finding another outlet to fulfill a need of mine that would otherwise go neglected if I didn't. So no. I'm not going to apologize about it.

As sad (and harsh) as it sounds, if I had to choose between the two, I would probably choose my best friend. Not because I feel a romantic attraction to him (I consider him as a brother), but because I know that if I chose against him, I'd spend a lot of time alone... and I'm not a solitary person. I would rather be single and have a best friend who loves to spend time with me than ever be in a relationship where I was constantly left behind and then forced to listen to retellings of "amazingly awesome and fun!" things that I'm not a part of. If I didn't have my best friend, I'd lose my mind.

I'm tired of feeling like the bad guy for spending my time with someone who actually cares and wants to spend time with me. I really am.

I love it when people show their true colors. Especially when it opens my eyes and shows that I've been falling for a lie.

I also love it when people turn into fucking cowards and run away. How pathetic, can't even man up and hold a conversation? Instead you gotta run away and hide under your silly little covers like that's going to make it all go away? Lemme tell you something, little kid: It don't fucking work that way with me.

I fucking hate the Ostrich Theory. "Oh, if I stick my head up my ass and ignore the whole situation, then it'll go away." Uh, no. It doesn't fucking work that way. You wanna stick your head in the sand and ignore me because what I have to say isn't what you want to hear at the time, yet you expect me to give you all the attention in the world when something's bothering you? Let me break this to you, too, because apparently you're wearing some seriously rose-tinted glasses: The. World. Does. NOT. Revolve. Around. You.

And if you're expecting me to cater to a selfish little child, think the fuck again. I'm looking for an equal partnership, I'm not looking to babysit an immature, selfish, tempermental child. If I wanted to babysit a child, I'd go work at a fucking daycare. You know, where little children are supposed to be. You think you're grown up -- Grown ups don't fucking run away from a discussion. Grown ups don't put their fingers in their ears and scream "Lalalala!" until the other person gets tired of it and gives up trying. Grown ups actually have an actual interest in the lives of their partners... that, or they admit to that person that things are done and they don't give a shit. Which one are you? If you don't give a shit anymore then fucking tell me to my face so I'll back the fuck off and stop wasting my breath revealing my hopes and dreams to a goddamn brick wall. Okay? Thanks.

You know what I have a knack for? Finding selfish workaholics who could honestly care less what I have to say or how I feel at any given time. People who simply want me around when it's convenient for them and wouldn't care less if I fell off the fucking planet the rest of the time. In fact, they'd probably like it if I fell off the face of the earth because then they wouldn't have to sacrifice any of their precious time on me. And what's so fucking hilarious to me is that when I finally get tired of their shit and actually start to grow a spine and decide I want to find something better, they whine and cry and pitch their little baby fits of "Please don't go, I love you!"

...Love? This is how you show love? Wow, I'd hate to see how you show your hatred.

You know what I also have? Staircase Syndrome. I admit it. I let people take advantage of me, emotionally rape the shit out of me on a daily basis, beat me down mentally/emotionally, and otherwise manipulate me into staying trapped in a situation that's ultimate going to destroy my self-esteem, self-respect, and self-confidence. I try so fucking hard to make everyone happy that I'm essentially going to commit emotional suicide. I've already committed mental suicide, having to force myself to "dumb down" for the benefit of people who can't understand my supposedly "advanced" vocabulary and logic... Apparently killing myself emotionally isn't going to be any big loss to anyone, either. I should've guessed that my emotions never meant shit to anyone. I was such an idiot for ever falling for that lie. Nobody's going to care about me except for myself and my family.
But whatever.

What sucks about me is how badly I've let all of this get to me. I relapsed back into getting stoned "recreationally" because it's the only thing that makes me forget about this horrible misery I put up with. I get so angry and/or depressed at the end of each evening, after another stupid round of fighting, that I resort to blasting my brains out with medications so I don't have to feel like shit all night. So I won't cry again. So I won't get tempted to hang myself by the throat with a fucking headset cord. So I won't punch the walls until my knuckles bleed. So I won't scream and sob into a pillow until I suffocate into unconsciousness. I don't go around getting blasted because it's fun... I go around getting blasted because it numbs the heartache and pain I suffer on a daily fucking basis.

Heartache and pain that comes from catering to the whims of someone who probably wouldn't know how to react if he was ever treated the way he treats me. Then again, he'd probably just fucking run away if I ever tried. But what can you do... there isn't any point trying to help a coward who refuses to see that he's wrong.

You know how I see it? You want to go around doing dangerous shit and not care that I don't like it -- fine. I'm going to go around doing dangerous shit and not care that you don't like it as well. Fair is fair... get over it.

And if you can't get over it... you know where the door is. I'm not going to change my ways because it's more than obvious that you aren't going to change yours. Relationships are fucking compromise -- give and take -- and you're NOT willing to play. So I officially refuse to play, too.

All I wanted was for you to actually show an interest in my life. Even if you fucking faked it for my benefit. But nope. You couldn't be assed. It was apparently far too much work for you to bother doing. So instead you shoved another dagger in my heart and twisted it around. I hope that you enjoy twisting those daggers around, I really do. But don't think that you're going to get to get away with it forever... because, whether you've bothered to notice it or not, I'm rapidly getting tired of trying to get through to you. Apparently you don't want anyone to get through to you, and I oughta just give up.

Don't ever expect me to tell you about my dreams ever again. Don't ever expect me to ask for your opinion on any decisions I've been mulling over -- in fact, don't ever expect me to go so far as to even fucking mentioning them ever again. Don't ever expect me to tell you about my day anymore. I'm not going to waste my energy and your precious and valuable time on something so worthless and boring to you. So do yourself a happy little victory dance...

You won! Congratulations! Go out and celebrate with all your friends -- apparently you have more fun with them than you do me, anyway! You even said that yourself, to my face!

(So don't even dare try to deny that you did.)

Go out and spend your time with the people you actually give a shit about, because you sure as hell don't give a shit about me. Actually, no, I take that back -- you give half a shit about me when it's convenient for you. When you're bored and apparently your real friends aren't around... only then am I worth something to you. And even then you can't even part from your precious other hobbies long enough to talk to me.

I really have to ask: Why do you bother keeping me around? You obviously have much better things to do with your life. You obviously don't need me -- and barely seem to want me -- so why bother?

The funny thing is... if I were to disappear tomorrow, it wouldn't affect you. You'd still go out with your friends and have a kickass time doing whatever the fuck it is you and your more-important friends do. You wouldn't even bother wasting the time thinking about me. You like to tell me that it would bother you immensely and tragically depress you... but it wouldn't be immense or tragic enough to ever tear you away from your social affairs. Yeah, that's definitely proving how much I mean to you. But you know what? That's okay. That's absolutely okay. Who am I to tear someone away from their real love? I know I'm just a fake love... it's taken a lot of time to come to grips with that fact, but I finally have. I'm just a fake love. Probably a temporary one, too. But hey... I don't have to be worth anything to anybody. I'm fine being a complete waste of space... I spent my entire teenage life as one... why should I ever think it would change now that I'm 21?

Anyway, enjoy your victory celebration. You finally managed to make me realize I need to shut up about my life -- my hopes, dreams, aspirations, desires, etc. You finally got the bitch to shut her mouth.

Congratulations -- You broke the spirit that I thought was unbreakable. Way to go... you definitely should be patting yourself on the back right now. You managed to do the impossible.

Congratulations on a job well done.