Someone close to me, an avid reader of my blog, basically told me a few nights back that my writing is shallow. That rather than diving into any real thought, I play it safe and only write about the surface of my life- my daily happenings. He was offering nothing more than a bit of constructive criticism, but I haven’t been able to get my mind off of what he said. Here is the first entry where you journey into my head……
I am the most destructive person I know.
Self destructive is a more appropriate term.
As soon as I allow myself to get close to anything resembling a normal genuine happiness, I behave in a way that ruptures it from my life. Tearing it away from me with force. And those closest to me? You sink to the bottom of the pool by my side. I can’t seem to allow anything to unfold in a regular manner. I’ve never been able to allow stability into my life. As much as I crave a sort of permanence, I push it away the minute it’s obtainable. I can’t seem to hold onto anything. Half the time the things and people in my life that I care about don’t require a holding onto. It’s just a matter of not purposely rocking the boat until my world capsizes. If you think about it, it’s actually rediculously easy not to ruin something, yet when I reflect on my actions it’s as if I went out of my way to destroy what I know. Throughout my life, those who have loved me the most have been the most severely injured. I slap those in the face who only want to kiss me. I build a wall between myself and others who care, and countless times I have given myself to those who could care less about me. Flung myself at strangers. The worst part is, is that I am not unaware of this. For as long as I can remember my whole life has been me on the outside watching what is unraveling around me. I always am conscious of my behavior. I always know the consequences that lay ahead… But it doesn’t change a thing. With me, nothing is ever an accident. I know when I am hurting someone, and I know when I am hurting myself, and yet, my actions persist.
I can’t remember just when this void within me began, but its been there and sometimes it feels as if it’s growing. I have hobbies, I have passions, I am more or less a happy person who enjoys life, but there is a void. A part of me is empty. I don’t know if it’s up to me to fill or if I’m waiting to find that person who will fill it, be it a loved one or a friend. And that void results in a recklessness. An impulsiveness. An air of irresponsibility and selfishness. And I can’t seem to change, or maybe I don’t give it any effort. I am weak when presented with temptation, be it any aspect of my life.
But more than anything I am terrified of relationships. Romantic relationships. As much as I want t be in one that is successful and happy and smooth I can’t seem to make a solid commitment. I have no idea why commitment freaks me out. It makes me question everything in my life and what I’m doing and why and for who and for how long and for what??? The minute I know that someone loves me and wants to be with me I break down. I shove him away. I withdraw to a place where he can no longer reach me. And the whole time I know that I love this person, that I would love to be with him. That he loves me more than anyone else has or is going to. And his love is constantly validated through his forgiveness. Other than loving me beyond words I can not imagine why I have been given a second chance, a third, a forth…. and so on. But multiple guys in different relationships I have. It’s as if they want to see if I’ll be different the next time around. I’ve always distanced myself from the one person who wants nothing more than to be close to me. I must drive people crazy who care. I must drive boys crazy who are trying to hold on. Trying to make me see. Trying to make me want…
End of thought