Rants

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I'm so sick of my face. I'm so sick of my eyes. I'm so sick of my hair. I'm so sick of my skin. I'm so sick of my back. I'm so sick of my belly. I'm so sick of my arse. I'm so sick of my thighs. I'm so sick of my c**t. I'm so sick of my legs. I'm so sick of my feet. I'm so sick of my brain. I'm so sick of my nerves. I'm so sick of my hormones.

I want a full body transplant.

I need someone to love me in a grown-up way. I am horribly messed up. I am very vulnerable. I realise could go my whole sorry life without it happening. I can't do just sex (I'm too traumatised and emotional for that) and friendship isn't enough. I want passion and I want to touch another person's inner being - like their soul if souls even existed.

I should be happy on my own, but I never truly am. It's definitely not about being happy, though. I just have to love and be loved, it's my raison d'etre. It's hard to explain, but it's like every bit of my body and mind is existing for it. One day this flesh machine inhabit will shut down and this vital animating force will fade like a dead star.

I am really all alone and this love affair I crave won't happen. I'm sick of trying to be content and detatched. I can forget about what I feel for a while, or distance myself from it, but it's always there. I guess I just have to keep in mind that none of it matters because I'm going to die, anyway. I can only do what I can. Even hope is too painful. I just have to live blindly.

I could really use having someone help me grow up before it’s much later than it already is.

AaaaaaaAAAAaAaaaaaAAAAaaaRRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrGH!

I'm tired of being hurt for the convenience of others.

People at church, any church, who say they will be there for me when I need them but then don't want to pick me up to go to church. And despite what they say about being there for me they always make some sort of excuse to get out of an obligation they made for themselves, however they expect me to be there for them and get mad at me if I have something to do. Religious people will do anything to increase the attending numbers in thier congregation but when put to the test do not actually act like the people they profess to be.

Some people actually join because they actually do need help, and not the spiritual variety. Perhaps help restoring our faith in humanity which lets us down. And then they wonder why people drop from the role books. Please do not smile sweetly and tell me you will be my friend then never call me simply because I moved to a town just up the road. And hey, just for kicks, when you do call you make sure it is one day after you pass right by my house to a much larger city 45 minutes past my house in the other direction. So much for brotherly love.

I am starting to kind of miss having friends. I have only every had friends once, and only because I had drugs and alcohol there to ease the process. I don't want to subject myself to that abuse in order to have a social life; if that is what it truly takes for me to cobble together the trappings of a normal life, than I don't want it. My husband is very concerned for me, because of my social isolation, but until I got back on Facebook and had to look at all of my old friends' post, I didn't really care. I might not actually care, though. I am never sure how much of these anxieties are really mine, or what I picked up from others.

I'm dealing with two groups of people right now. I dare swear that I don't share any similarity with any them. I suspect that they are all capable of harming other people in order to benefit themselves. (E.g. If adding melamine to milk will increase milk's protein levels, then they will definitely add melamine to milk.) Whenever I hang out with members of Group A, I'm genuinely happy and friendly as I chit-chat with them, joke around with them, listen to their non-stop anecdotes... But you know what? Whenever (when alone) I recall how I always manage to get along so well with them, I feel so disgusted with myself. I'm supposed to hate these people because their principles violate my own principles, yet I manage to derive happiness from socializing with them?! What's wrong with me???! !! I try so hard to please members of Group B not because I hope to reap any benefit by doing so but because I'm so sick of seeing them getting angry and/or upset with me all the time. I understand that they hate me for being so slow and so stupid in various aspects, but hey, since they know that my IQ is below average, they should jolly well acknowledge this fact. They are sooooooooo fake; soooooooooo contradictory. When I tell them things, they tell me to "stop whining and complaining". When I don't tell them anything, they beg me to confide in them, saying that they worry that I might explode one day if I bottle all my issues up. Nothing that I have done is ever right in their eyes. Nothing that I have said is ever pleasing to their ears.

I hate people who tell me to ignore rumors when they are the ones spreading all sorts of rumors about me. I hate people who tell me to "just act dumb" when they are the ones performing all sorts of antics against me. I can't possibly forgive the debts of people who insist that they will never ever forgive my debts. I'm not in the mood to exterminate myself. Since we are trapped in this "either you survive or I survive" situation, can you exterminate yourself instead? To ___________, if you can't practice abstinence, at the very least, can you kindly Google "birth control methods"?

You point out that we are all fighting for limited resources because of our unlimited desires. Can you learn a thing or two from me please? Sometimes I create my own resources or go elsewhere to seek resources instead of fighting with you for certain limited resources. Sometimes I try my best to limit my own unlimited desires. Eh, I know that you love money, but unfortunately, I don't intend to burn any hell money for any of you in the future. On an unrelated note, I'm very proud of myself because I haven't even spent a single cent on my current special interest. (Oops, I did spend some money on trips to the library as well as the museum. Oops.) Yes, I admit that I often make use of other people to fulfill my own agenda. Unlike you, I don't DELIBERATELY make use of other people to fulfill my own agenda, then DELIBERATELY cast them aside once my own agenda is fulfilled. I'm so ashamed of you because you aren't ashamed of yourself at all. People like you make me question what's the use of Civics and Moral Education huh???! !!

I had to go to some stupid appointment before work today. On top of that, I had to put up with f***ing traffic because they are filming a movie there. As a result, I was a half hour late for work today. And the problems don't stop there, either. Halfway home from work, I realized that I LEFT MY F***ING PURSE AT WORK!! ! It's got my ID in there, so I'm scared my identity will be stolen. The purse is in my desk, but it's unlocked, so anyone could get to it. You could imagine how pi**ed I am right now. I can't even get my purse back until tomorrow, and I don't know what will happen if my identity is stolen.

I try not to push too hard or text too much; the weeks, sometimes months, of my lack of communication with you may seem like I do not really care, or that the extent of which I care is not great.

The truth is, though, that I still love you.
I never stopped loving you from the day I realized that I loved you, and I probably came to love you long before then.
I never stopped loving you, even when I pursued my other friend, even when I dated that guy, just in case it was possible for me to love him, but I cannot love him...
...because I love you.

I almost started crying over you today.
I almost cut myself out of my stupidity in losing you.
I almost did these things, but I did not, because I am not allowed to show emotion in this household.
Also, I can't bring myself to cut myself, regardless of how many times I scratch and bite and hit myself.

I almost came out to my parents today, almost told them the real reason that I broke up with the guy that I was, and am, rather fond of...but they sometimes swear at me if I forget to close the cereal box. I want to be honest with them, I really do; I want them to quit talking about a hypothetical husband and hypothetical children; I want them to know for the sake of me not liking to keep secrets. I want to be honest with them, but I can't risk their anger; I can't risk more screaming, more disappointment, a bruise on the face, homelessness; I can't risk their rejection.

It's funny, though, because I thought about straight-up leaving so many times before. I can't tolerate their negative energy, and I can't tolerate the fact that my energy contributes to their negativity. I can't tolerate the fact that I drain them. When I've broken down in front of their eyes, though, multiple times, confessing my suicidal idealizations, and they brushed it off, left me at home alone the first time-- never mind the guns and knives at my house-- and all but ignored it the second time, when it took them two suicidal-confession breakdowns at school over the course of a year for them to get me therapy, when said therapist "highly suggested" I had a certain disorder that they also all but ignored, when they literally laugh at me when I bring up other medical concerns, when they mock my anxiety, when I retreat in a corner at the library, no longer able to take the presence of other people, and they angrily accuse me of attention-seeking (even though I hid to escape attention), when it becomes apparent that their reputation is worth more to them than my well-being...when all of this happens, I begin to lose my trust in them.

And, yet, I can't leave...because I need them.
I need them to provide a roof over my head; I need them to provide food, water, electricity, electronics;
I need them to cling onto; I need to least be able to pretend that I matter to another living creature.

I can't lose them...not yet, at least...
even though our separation would probably be the best for the both of us,

Because, father, if you can deal with my birth at you being fourty-seven years old, if you can deal with my mother leaving you to take care of her daughter, who barely spoke English, and I, if you can deal with me being "emotionally disturbed," with me being probably autistic, with me being suicidal, but you can not deal with my homosexuality,

then perhaps I am not the one with the issues, am I?

I really do love you, father, as scornful as I am right now; I know that you are trying your best; I know that you were hurt in the past multiple times by a multitude of different weapons; I know that you are probably on the Broad Autistic Phenotype yourself, that you are, in many ways, just as lost as I am; I know that you care in the only way that you know how, that you really do love me...
but I'm hurt in ways that I no longer trust you to be able to fix.

Back to you, my love;
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry that I'm so creepy, so obsessive, so...intense.
I'm sorry that I'm literally too weird to love;
I'm sorry that I was too romantic too soon;
I'm sorry that I took your words at face value; I'm sorry that I couldn't see that you were only pretending to reciprocate to be polite;
I'm sorry that the above is such an unfair, brass assumption;
I'm sorry that I hurt our friendship;
I'm sorry that I'm so melodramatic;
I'm sorry that you probably hate it when people say "I'm sorry" over and over.

I still want to cry over you, five hours after I first got on this train of thought, but no tears flow-- at least not on the outside.
I still dream about you a lot.

I'm still here, always here, for whatever you may need me;
as someone to text when you're bored, as someone to text to avoid talking to somebody, as a shoulder to cry on, as a friend, as a best friend, as a sister, as a lover...
as anything, as anybody, as somebody, as nobody...

...for the love of Ra, Serenity, I love you.

Slaving a control system to direct communication of someone who won't talk to you isn't a good idea. I should have the ability to say no. Not that I can't change my mind, just the capability to stop letting it bother me.

And why is talking to someone who will never respond a coping mechanism.

Theory of mind is rather weak for me.

So I disagreed with someone who did not like the movie Man of Steel. Then someone else said that I (as in me) disagreed and I liked it and he was wrong in the voice of Rainman? I never said I was right. He had reasons why he did not like it. That's fine. I just said it did not diminish the fact that I did like it. It was almost like he wanted to convince me not to like it, or I could not understand his point of view. It's not that at all. He articulated why very well. Those things just don't matter to me. They do matter to him. I accept that. The Rainman part was a bit hurtful though, and he is someone I would have considered a friend. This is the guy that though he might be on the spectrum, but wasn't. He was someone I trusted. I'm sure he didn't mean to be hurtful, but it was.

I'll get over it. I always do.

*edit* bit later

I went to the guy who did the Rainman thing, and asked him if I come off as someone that has to be right, and he said no, that he was just having some fun. He apologized which was nice, because I do trust him, and he is one of the few males I know that I actually feel I have a certain amount in common with.

This is getting f*cking ridiculous. If the doctors won't do anything about it, then I will do it by my damn self.

I've tried walking in your shoes, and ended up stumbling on my face. I'm not throwing them out but it's wiser to walk barefoot on uneven terrain. There's no reason for me to break my outside to match the inside.

When will you wake up and realise the consequences of your actions? When will you stop manipulating your so-called friends for your own needs? When will you give me my f*****g money back? What will it take to make you actually realise what a terrible human being you've been in the past and that you need to change?

Today, someone referred to me as an attention wh*re, though not in those exact words. That really offended me, as I did not mean to be one on purpose. What if my boyfriend or my other friends point that out to me? I don't want to get into an argument with them because of some nasty comment. This is really tearing me apart.