God, I feel so unsure. It’s like I can’t take control of my life. Maybe I don’t trust myself. That’s it, I don’t trust myself! I don’t trust my feelings. I don’t trust my desires and my urges. I feel that they were put there to mislead me.
My own feelings want to mislead me. That’s horrible! How about my mind? I don’t even know what to think. I want to drink. Get drunk. Pass out. And die, yeah!
This afternoon I took a nap. I fell asleep. I dreamed that I was walking inside a warehouse. Then I must have stepped on something because I was electrocuted. I was being electrocuted and I couldn’t move and I thought: “I’m overpowered and I’m going to die, finally!” And I was happy. Then I woke up.
I wasn’t dead. I never seem to die. Why does death always elude me?
Does my life have something to do with you, cloaked man? I don’t think you can help me. I doubt I can help you. I’m not sure anymore. I don’t trust anything. I feel paralyzed. I should make a move but all I want to do is make a no-move. Just sit here and wait. For someone to come.
But no one will come. I even disconnected the phone. I don’t want to hear it ring. I’m not going to answer anyway. I’m tired of these fake connections. I need the real thing. When I feel like this I don’t want to talk to anyone. I couldn’t talk anyway. My throat is numb. My voice has been disactivated. I’m not even sure I have a breath.
I am lost because the meaning of things was removed today. Does this ever happen to you? Nothing has meaning. Maybe I’m dissociating again. Or derealizating. The environment, the thoughts and the feelings seem unreal. Where’s my reality?
Maybe I’m just lonely. If someone would knock on my door, it would surely bring me back to reality. I need to be touched. Maybe shaken. Maybe slapped in the face or kicked in the stomach.
“What you need is a big strong hand to lift you to your higher ground.”
Now I’m channeling Madonna.
I love my man
He is so naive
I know how to impress him
I’ve done it last eve
When I win he shines
When I win he nods
I have but one talent
It is to beat the odds
I know how to do this
I understand this machine
Put enough coins in it
Eventually it will sing
I have my own bank account
Does not matter how much I spend
Huge amounts are for big gamblers
I’m the mother of all winners
There goes a twenty
There goes another
If I keep inserting money
Jackpot will hit eventually
Just one more dollar
To keep the lights flashing
Keep the wheels spinning
They will stop in my favor
(Two hours later)
“Oh my god, I got it!
Two hundred and something
Honey, come and see this!
I won the bonus thing!”
– How much did you put in?
“Oh, only three tokens”
– Wow, you’re so lucky!
“How can you not love me…”
Here is another wonderful “talking to myself” session. This one will be recorded publicly though. Perhaps to shame myself or to entertain bored readers.
I’m tired of thinking of her. It’s a waste of time. If I could change the way I think of her, that would be great. I should hypnotize myself to make me love her. That might work.
Love her? No thank you. “Like her” maybe. No, not even. Accept her. Yes, I could start there. Accept her current existence in my life. Can I do that?
Well I think I have accepted her already. I let her be, don’t I? I let her affect me too. Maybe this is what I should be working on. I should not let her affect me. Or, I have a better idea. Why not let her affect me and then transform the effect into something good!
Let’s try it. She said this yesterday, after I said to her that she already has everything: “No, I don’t have a husband who loves me.” I did not reply because I knew what it would trigger. So I just kept silent. I absorbed it.
Now the phrase is coming back to me and Oh! I could smash… never mind. There is no use smashing things. She sincerely wishes that I would love her. Why should I let it upset me?
I cannot love her simply because I can’t trust her. And that’s ok, I don’t have to trust the people I don’t trust. There is a reason why I don’t trust her. She is not trustworthy. To me anyway.
I trusted her at the beginning and she took advantage of it. She profited. It was her choice or perhaps not. Maybe she had been programmed by her family. Or she programmed herself in order to survive within her family.
Whatever it is, the issue is hers, not mine. And she refuses to look within herself. That’s why she suffers from anxiety. I can’t help her. Would my hugs help her? Perhaps. Perhaps not. I don’t know. And you know what? I don’t care whether I can help her or not. I’m trying to save myself here. I have spent enough energy for her already. The little I have left I will keep.
Sorry dear. I know you’re drowning but I can’t help you.