therapy

I just feel like things keep happening that are out of my control. Do you know what I mean? “I don’t understand.. you’ve done nothing wrong” she replied.

But you see, I can’t possibly begin to comprehend what evil I’ve ever committed to have made my life literally turn out to be nothing more than a bloody series of unfortunate events. An existence in which I am far too often a mere outsider or perhaps passenger, or should I say prisoner, watching my “life” fall to pieces time and time again without any form of control or ability to make bad things stop happening. I’m….trapped. 

"But even when you make wrong decisions, to you right now they seem wrong, but several years down the track, it could be good. People just need to make decisions that they know are wrong in order to experience it and sometimes it’s just fate" she shot back at me.

Otherwise they’ll never know. Right?

If you never try, you’ll never know just what you’re worth (Fix You by Coldplay lyrics).

But that doesn’t explain why things have absolutely gone to shit from the moment I was born. Or rather, from the moment my mother fell pregnant with me. Fell. It was a downward motion that I brought her into, signalling the beginning of my futile existence. I ruin everything and I always have. I don’t mean to, I have no intention to, but I just do. Because I’ve never seemed to meet the right people, or potential love interest, that I truly mix well with. I believe that only one man will ever be able to make me feel as though I’m not a total waste of space, major failure, class a fuck-up. I just wonder how many more times I have to endure being ripped apart by group of people after group of people until I find where I belong. 

I was the odd one out at school. From day one to graduation. When I attended church as a kid, I was on my own mostly. I’m an only child so I played alone, I slept alone, I did everything by myself. In dance classes, I’d be the one who everybody hated. In beauty therapy, all of the stupid girls would eye me off like I was different. And that’s the thing. I am different. I can get along with absolutely anybody but the second they turn on me, well here we go again. So I’m used to it. I don’t even feel like part of my own family. I was the only child in the family who moved to another state. It never felt the same.

Being the outcast of every single social group, family and basically every mass of people I’ve ever known, you know, you kind of fucking get used to it. I won’t be shocked when my own children hate me (but I’d be the greatest mother ever so I doubt that shit). 

So continue talking about me behind my back, as I know you do. Continue calling me names and trying to make yourself feel better. Continue nurturing your so-called “broken” heart when all I ever did was care for you and all you ever did was lie and damage and hurt me. Be my guest. 

Because I don’t belong anywhere. Yet. 

So life,

Because I’m not done with you yet. And everything’s going to be okay. And I’ll find where I belong. And I’ll be happy. We’ll be happy. Because the suffering has to end somewhere and I know that this person.. this person will make me happier than I could have ever imagined. And now, to wait. For this amazing person. (Feel free to show yourself like really soon or now or something).