The title asks the questions, and the answers I do not know. There is an expression used a lot in twelve step meetings, 'some are sicker than others,' although often said in jest, I wonder. Could I fall into the 'sicker than others,' lol? Maybe not, but maybe so. Who cares?
Truthfully, I care, which is why I am writing this. Sometimes, it seems like I was born in the wrong place, to the wrong family, and that I am still barking up the wrong trees, in so many ways.
When does the heartache end? When do disappointments from stupid childhood end? When is it ever okay to be who you are? When am I going to be good enough? Never - who knows? Who cares? It gets to the point where you just realize you are sick of trying, trying to be okay in everyone's book, trying to be loved, trying to be understood, hoping people will give you kindness. Perhaps they do their best.
Sometimes a stupid, miserable life is not worth living, and no one really knows you, not even your own family. I feel so spooked by life right now. I think life is spookier than death.
I used to have all this sentimentality about life and nature, animals and people, but I feel that is diminishing, and I find myself caring less and less.
It seems to me sometimes, that I started being ruined the day I was born. I look at a childhood picture, and I think, was I still whole? Was there hope? I look at a picture a little older and wonder the same thing, and all I know is that my soul feels like it is no longer my whole essence, that all the crap in life, just drove it away, and I have nothing left inside. Woundedness is lame and stupid, and I hate it when people come from there, but that is just how I feel.
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