Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Defense Mechanism

We are gathered here today cause we really have nothing better to do...I mean me, and my multiple personalities.
I'm not the best at feeling the worst. I usually just restrain every little feeling of despair and try to use my time for something better. Say...ride a bike, read a book, write a blog...
Now I only seem to be going in a straight line towards feeling crappy.
As if the ring leader in the circus in my head had decided to lead everyone through a dramatic, melancholy filled, tear shedding heartbreaking show.
I'm not sad about my current...say emotional situation. I'm sad about having been the one who brought me into the emotional situation.
I'd rather be damaged than damaging.
It is definitely annoying, knowing that I would feel a lot better if only my heart had been trampled on instead. Which is kinda ridiculous.
But what can I do?
Continue with a life of lies and deception only to feel like I'm doing good to someone? Only to keep myself form hurting someone?
No...I can't do that.
A broken heart heals...trust me, I've been there. And usually after two days or so instead of trying to get the person back you start throwing shit against them, burning pictures, telling them they were wrong, and what they're gonna miss, and how you do not agree with anything and how he/she is a pathetic piece of shit and if they don't change they'll end up alone, and I am way better without him/her, and they can throw themselves off a bridge, cause, really, as alone as they'll end up noone will care.
But you were in love before though.
So all this bantering is simply a defense mechanism.
To make yourself believe you're stronger, and that you can get by. And it usually works.
Been there, done that, gone through that...only never from the other side.
I've never been the heartbreaker, always the heartbroken...
So now....I'm stepping into a new side of the stage. Pulling my hat off my head...stepping forward...and saying...

I wish someday you'll understand...this was never about you.

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