The Lost and Lonely Little Girl...

I so wish I knew what I was doing with myself right now. Everything seems like such a mess... Including my face. It looks like it's been torn off a really bad corpse and stuck on my head. Life would be so much better with a different body... And mind. 

I can't get my head around what it is to be me anymore. I've labelled myself up to the hilt - and god knows how many of those are based on lies, or at least misconceptions. Outside of the labels I don't know what the fek is going on.  I'm not even that certain there even is a "me" under it all. I'm so used to being a scared little victim... A nothing, a nobody, a "problem" - just plane fucked-up, really. I don't think straight, I prefer to be in my own head and converse via keyboard to computer than go anywhere near an actual person. Probably because after everything, I know computers are predictable, can't hurt you (barring throwing one at your head), don't talk or argue, and don't say things or do things to you that makes you want to go and throw yourself under the next express train that flies past.  Frankly, computers don't make you want to go splat. People do. Especially ones you care about, and those who pretend to care about you. Because when you find out they really don't - and would rather cause you unbearable pain and agonising heartache than be actually nice to you - splat can often seem like the better option than getting screwed over and over again and again throughout decades and decades of your life. 

Even after all this time there's pain in my heart for what happened. Rejection isn't something children take well, and their hearts get colder and more dehumanised each time it happens to them. By the time you're an adult, you can throw the social rule-book out of the window. It's why so many turn to drug-based "relaxation" (that's alcohol, illegal and prescription drugs) - because it turns that terrifying fear of victimisation off in your head and it allows you to at least look human, and enjoy yourself. OK, I've taken myself down to just relying on caffeine now, but it's still neccessary on occasion to require something that makes me not care about the world; something to make me feel ... well, something. Something other than heart-broken and miserable. 

I wonder if there's any way to fix or fill that part of me that's gone. The part of me that feels human. The part of me that is in constant agonising emptiness and misery, knowing that I'm "weird" and "different", and that I most definitely do not compute the world in quite the same way as others do. Wounds are still raw after all this time, and still they refuse to heal. Still they bleed. Still I need to cry. Still I know, I will never be the same agin, and still I feel grief for the life I lost because others refused to leave my innocence be. I'm on guard, overly-introverted, overly-sensitive, too ready to run from the smallest possible negativity towards me. I still feel like a child - yet I'm 27... 28. And I still react like one. And I still prefer to hide from the world than be a part of it. Because then, just maybe, it can't hurt me anymore...