So what if it hurts?First, I'd like to say that every time I look at you, I look at you with disgust. I look at you with true hate because I've finally come to terms with the fact that you could never be there for me when I was sitting in the depths of my own self-hate and disgust. The time I cried in your bedroom because I thought you would be able to help me with the weight of depression, how you were standoffish and didn't have anything to say, I saw your true colors.
So you wonder why I don't talk to you anymore, or I don't look at you in the eyes. I don't look at you that way because when I see you, I see disgust, and not the person behind it. But then again, I know that the person behind the disgust is nothing different. I'm fine with that because I can walk away from it, but you can not. When you came to me because you were told that you need to be medicated and start seeing a psychiatrist, you expected me to be there just like I expected you to. But I wasn't, I'm not. How do you expect someone to return the favor when you can't give it? You can't.
All the times I was gonna off myself, sticking my head under water the in the bathroom sink, you weren't there. When my head was under water, your head was in the sand. Ostrich Syndrome - if you can't see it, it's not there. But it is there, and you for some reason can't accept it like I have. You don't give me advice or be there to share my tears because you can't put yourself in my shoes. You never will. You weren't there because you don't know what it's like to spend a day in this body, with this heart and this mind. With this pain. You never will. Granted I will never go trough the things you went through in your life, in your childhood with your family and your upbringing. In no way will I ever live that. But the two halves do not equal a whole.
Everyone suffers from things differently, and you're theory of depression and what you've seen from it is not what I am living. What I am being pressed under. That's why you can't be there, because it's not you. Because I'm not you. Because I won't ever be you. In not so many words, you told me to get over it. That this was fake and that I was fine. Do you know that that cuts like a knife? Do you know that by writing that hurtful paragraph on your MySpace, that I knew it was about me and you lied to me about it, was betrayal? How could I forgive that, this and whatever else you've unknowingly done to me?
A friend is not someone like you. A friend is someone who, although they may not know every fine detail about what the counterpart is going through, will still be there. Not someone who stabs you in both back and front, parading around the fact that you lost your counterpart because you were a shitty friend. If you knew this, how would you feel? If I did this to you, how would you feel? You would hurt like I have hurt; you would feel like shit. But you don't understand. You never will. You have been dropped and lost because you can't get your head out of your ass and be there. Now, I can't be there. Do unto others as you would have done unto yourself. But, I wouldn't expect you to grasp that.
You have not lost me to my depression. You have lost me due to your own selfishness. I'm gone because I am above that. I will deal with this without your help, which won't be any different because you weren't there in the first place.
In short - you were never completely there, and now I'm gone and I'm not going back.
I've been thinking about going back to see someone. I've been realizing the past few weeks that I'm sinking a little bit faster, and this time it hurts physically. I've been noticing my lack of sleep, and when I do get sleep, it's so terrible that I wake up with neck and shoulder pains. I've been living with this for a year and a half and self medicating is no longer working. I miss playing the guitar and I miss having the desire to take pictures. I miss having the inspiration to sit and paint.
On the other hand and on a lighter note, Tim is buying me a ticket to see Crime in Stereo at Harper's Ferry on December 28th for Christmas. I'm pretty excited, even though they aren't headlining. Tickets are only 12 dollars which is crazy cool.
I'm excited to be able to buy really awesome Christmas presents for everyone this year. Having a job keeps me grounded, even if it stresses me out and my hours aren't as good as they used to be. It's nice to have something to escape to when the weight of my shoulders is too much.
I feel sick.
That gray matter you're so proud of is like a mirror in an amusement park which transmits to you nothing but distorted signals from a reality
forever beyond your grasp.
