- November 4th, 2011
Hi Livejournal; you're my only friend now, I guess.
Damn, it seems every time I have something going for me, my life is getting to some point of okay-ness, I'm happy with myself, my situation...something just HAS to happen to fuck it up. I don't even know how it all happened; it really made no sense. But now I haven't a single friend. Again. I've lost count now of all the people who want me dead, who think I'm a horrible, good-for-nothing, mean, worthless piece of trash. I just don't understand. All I've ever done is try to be there for people. Try to be a good friend. I've taken a lot of shit for people over the years. Standing up for my friends has earned me some horrible abuse. People should be in jail for some of the shit they've done to me just for telling them to shut the fuck up about my friends. But I'm not going to get into that. Anything that had been wrong with me, I've fixed. I've changed completely. Over and over. But people always just have new complaints about me, now just ridiculous things. Just having emotion now is bad, I guess. Even when I do EVERYTHING for someone (pay bills, clean their house, feed and clothe them, drive them everywhere, buy them everything they need), I'm awful and they don't have enough, and their life is hell and I need to do more. I'm supposed to have a backbone, while at the same time never defending myself and just lying down and taking random insults and slander thrown at me. I'm not allowed to speak of anything negative, yet I'm also too happy. I'm too demanding for expecting promises made to me to be kept. I'm awful for venting on sites like this to try to let off some damn steam and clear my head, yet no one will provide a listening ear. I just have never been able to bottle it all up for long. It's sad that they think I should. Well, they've all abandoned me now anyway, so why not say all this? Why should I care about their opinion anymore? Why hold back? Everyone's gone. And I'm apparently the biggest damn idiot in the world because apparently everyone who said they were my friend, significant other, or anything was just lying and leading me on for months, or even years in some cases. Well, they were good liars; I can give them that. I believed them. Oh, but they'd also yell at me for thinking poorly of myself. After doing all that to me. I've apparently never been anything other than a disposable backup friend, a chore, a punching bag, or a Saturday night booty call to anyone. But I'm supposed to feel great about myself after learning that...? The funny thing is, I DID feel pretty good about myself before all this went down. It's a shame, really. I was really proud of how far I'd come in life since high school, how I'd overcome all the obstacles thrown at me since. I tried to share my accomplishments with my friends, but no one would even acknowledge them. They'd just come down on me for the things they saw wrong with me. It's only all this drama that's made me feel like real shit. Tonight is the first time in a LONG time I've just broken down and cried my eyes out. I feel like a damn school kid again, hiding in the bathroom so no one sees me just lose my composure. I don't even know what I feel. There's just so much I can't even put a finger on any emotion. I'm just mentally exhausted.
And it's taking a massive toll on my physical health. Which, of course, I get hell for. I have lupus. I got the shitty end of the genetic stick. How the hell is that my fault? I get yelled at for not getting treatment, for even daring to tell anyone I'm sick. Well, I can't afford treatment. Plain and simple. My financial situation is far from ideal. I can't touch the poverty line with a ten foot pole. I'm making bills and rent, but that's it. The job market SUCKS. I'm doing the best I can, but no one believes that. I know full well what treatment is available, how much it's going to run me, and what it will do to me. It honestly would make me even more miserable. There is no bloody cure. They just chuck steroids at you, and when that fails, switch to immunosuppressants. You end up spending more time in the hospital than out. And you eventually die from it anyway, usually pretty quickly. I don't understand why people want me to lie about that. I'd rather know it now than find out when I've only got a week left. And in all of this yelling at me about how I NEED to put myself through these painful, miserable treatments, did a single person ever offer to help? Nope, not one. Wouldn't even offer so much as moral support. I hate hospitals. They scare me. The thought of lying in one for months, people throwing experimental treatments at me like a damn lab rat, being sicker than fuck is not a thought I relish. But the thought of being totally alone during it makes it unbearable. I won't put myself through that. And as I said, lupus has a shitty outlook whatever way you turn it. There is no cure. There are just ways to postpone the inevitable, but eventually, you end up with mass organ failure or contract an infection and die because of the immunosuppressants killing off your immune system. I'm already pretty goddamn sick, and the kidneys are starting to go. If I were going to prolong my suffering for any reason, it had better be a damn good one. The way things are right now, I don't see a point. Everyone thinks that makes me suicidal, but I'm not. I'm not going to kill myself. I don't want to die. I just don't want to needlessly suffer, either. Damn, if I had even one friend, it would be worth it. I know that, because when I did, when things started going alright again, my health skyrocketed. I started eating again, got my energy back, actually was able to be up and about and do things. I accomplished a lot of shit, and actually was liking life. I got my birds, trained them up, worked on art and modeling, and got my own apartment, among other things. I felt great. I wanted to be alive, even if physical pain on my part was necessary. That's nothing compared to how nice it felt just to know that someone out there cared about me. Or...at least I thought they did. Apparently they didn't. Had me fooled, though. I sometimes try to trick myself...force myself to think "oh yeah, I'm sure they don't REALLY hate me. Yeah, I've still got friends. They'll come back!" But it just seems stupid to try to lie to myself like that after all these people make it clear that they don't care one way or the other whether I live or die. Some have gone to the point of saying they hope I do, and soon. I need to just kick all these delusional thoughts that anyone will come back, that anyone is still there. Those thoughts just consume me 24/7 now, I guess as my mind struggles to hold itself together. It works sometimes; sometimes I feel nice for a fleeting moment. Hell, every time the phone rings, I get the crazy thought that maybe it's a friend. I keep thinking, by their erratic behavior, that maybe this is just some issue with them. Maybe they do care? I can't tell. I'm afraid to think of it. But lying won't help. I can't listen to that idiotically hopeful voice in my head this time. I need to just force myself to face the truth: I'm alone.
All I've ever wanted in life is a decent friend. They can say what they want about me, call me wimpy and pathetic, I don't care. That's just part of who I am. It's honestly a big part of what it is to be human. Relationships are crucial to happiness and health. I have no fucking idea what I want to do for a career or any of that. I just want to actually matter to someone. I obviously don't. No one wants anything to do with me. Why should I put myself through painful medical testing and treatment and hell from bill collectors, effectively ruining what little is left of my life, just to cater to the whims of people to whom I'm already dead? Seems pretty pointless to me. And anyway, I have no choice now. This stress is worsening my disease, whether I want it to or not. As unfair as it is, my wellbeing depends on how people decide to treat me. If anyone really cared if I lived, I made it clear that what I needed was a friend. If they can't offer that, then, well...they must not care all that much, eh?
Usually, I'd think there's a lesson to be learned, but...what am I supposed to learn from this? That no matter what I do, it'll never be good enough for anyone? That my purpose in life is to be just the target of someone's rage, a servant, or someone's personal piece of ass? That to have a voice is to be terrible? That it's stupid to believe that anyone is my friend, even if they tell me they are? That I can get away with murder, but to have love for someone is an atrocious crime? That last one really irks me. Hell, I've broken real written laws and gotten away with a slap on the wrist, but those three certain little words bought me a lifetime of hell. I guess I'm such a disgusting person that no one can stand to hear that from me. God damn, not like I chose my feelings. But not to worry, no one believes me when I say it, anyway. I'm just treated like I don't know what I'm talking about, like I don't have the capacity to really care about someone. This really upsets me, since that's the one thing I've always been sure of through all this turmoil. It took a lot of guts to come out about it. And it's one thing to not have the feelings returned. That I can deal with. But to be told I'm can't even have these feelings? Wow, I must be more unbearable than I realize.
So overall...I just feel like the shittiest shit in shitville right now. I wish I didn't have to just randomly rant to dead cyberspace, but I needed to voice this, and there's no one who will be kind and listen anymore. I'm going to go and sleep or something. I really don't feel like being conscious. I sometimes have some really nice dreams. It's a shame I have to wake up some mornings.