Unlucky in Love or Crazy Bitch?

I wear misery like a jacket these days, it is not a good look on me. I am emotionally exhausted, taking it out on people who can think nothing of me besides the fact that I am a fucking lunatic. This dull mood wears me down and I can feel it eating away at my soul. 

Do I let go? Fuck no, the depression is familiar, it's my security blanket, and the "chase" is what I know. I'd say I'm good at it, but that's bullshit. Chasing what? A fairy tale? I'm infatuated with something I never even believed in. I'm hooked on a feeling (hahaha I never thought I would hear myself use that phrase). 

My mind seems to enjoy manufacturing a romantic story line to convince me that all of this shit is real. I must be nuts. I can see the ways that I sabotage my life. Even just by saying this love thing doesn't exist, while grasping desperately onto an unknowing warrior, and slapping a label on "us" so that I can appear to be "normal". 

When my hostage turns out to be as emotionally unavailable as I truly am, the drama of the situation rises up and my poor little heart is broken again, and again, what do you know... Oh, but now I can say I was right, and my theory appears to be true, there's no such thing as love. At the same time that I cling to the idea of Prince Charming riding in on his white horse and carry me off to happily ever after, I know in my mind, that I'm fucked in the head and that what I envision DOES NOT FUCKING EXIST. My twisted mind will make a prince out of anyone, and like a moth to a flame, I'm on the chase again. Crazy Bitch.

Emotional Paralysis

Isolation: Trapped inside of my own mind, terrified of the light, of the dark, of the outdoors, of death, of people, of expectations, of rejection, of the air, of the water, of reality, of the sun, of the rain, of the truth. Like being imprisoned in a room, bound to a chair, embedded in concrete, looking for my purpose, looking for one good reason not to blow my fucking brains out. It doesn't matter though because my arms are too heavy to raise a gun and my fingers too frozen to pull any trigger.

Trusting no one, as they all have selfish motives. Not wanting to be hurt means no longer making an attempt to be friendly. The last one to do it hurt the most, and it was my own fault for giving another person power in my life. I would never fuck with another human being's feelings, emotions, or life the way people have done to me, I do not wish to be a victim or a martyr, I am so confused and so broken. I cannot comprehend cruelty I do not wish to do so, I struggle with society and the way it tells me I should be. I will never be that person, that woman, that wife, that daughter, that mother. I hurt. My soul is empty, I have no faith, I try to let go, I try to let it in, I cry out for help, for relief, for love. I come up empty.