I’m an alcoholic
I’m not sure there’s a space for me to express myself.
I’m not sure there ever was.
I think the guilt follows you around so much that you simply find yourself explaining yourself for everything that you do.
If I could talk to you and tell you the reason I became an alcoholic, I would tell you that I simply became too self sacrificing. I didn’t ask to become a alcoholic or mentally I’ll or whatever you want to call me. I simply became too lost to care.
To be honest, I never had space to be a full on alcoholic anyway. Anything, maybe everything I’ve ever done has been hoisted with a ton of guilt. My personality simply, never, was able to fit into anything. My personality has always been too much, too unable to fit into anything, fully unable to be appreciated by anyone except for a simple “You’re selfish” to counteract the giant amount of guilt for existing.
Perhaps I am too much for some people. Maybe I’m narcissistic or completely unaware of my own self, but the more I’ve tried to sacrifice myself to those who don’t understand me, the more I realized how absolutely fucking stupid I am for trying. Cause, really, who knows the real me? I don’t even know the real me.
I want to feel guilty about it, but I don’t. I don’t feel sorry for myself at all, even though I know I’m one step away from losing my job. Was I ever not? How many more prayers on the altar do I have to give before I come to some kind of self understanding?
I don’t understand jack shit. I don’t understand why I obsess over guys who don’t want me back. I definitely don’t get why I’m so whiny that I scare everyone away. I don’t think a therapist is going to help at all. I don’t even want to self reflect on the issue because, honestly, I’m exactly the same place I was when I was 17 years old.
Honestly the more you try to fight yourself and fit yourself into a tiny box, the more you find yourself unraveling. The more you feel stupid, dumb, and livid for even trying. For sacrificing yourself for feeling. Why the fuck do you feel anything? Why the fuck can’t you feel nothing at all?
I would kill just to feel nothing for 5 minutes. I don’t want to work myself crazy, but I don’t want to be left with my thoughts long enough that I go back to places I don’t want to visit.
I haven’t been able to write anything for an extremely, utterly ridiculous amount of time. I haven’t been able to write because my creativity has been dried up. I find myself giving everything for an idea of myself that doesn’t exist, or does it. Does it matter that I don’t understand what’s becoming of my life, that I’m invisible, undisciplined, low in confidence, and completely aimless?
Even if I found a new direction in life, I’d be lost again. I’d be dragging someone along and carrying guilt of some other family member, some past, some person who wishes I’d disappear.
I’m an alcoholic. Sorry for disappointing you, again.