we're sick for the big sun

welcome

I'm Amy. I'm growing up. And this is my past, present, and future.

I know you'll come in the night like a thief.
But I’ve had some time alone to hone my lying technique.
I know you think that I’m someone you can trust.
But I’m scared I’ll get scared and I swear I’ll try to nail you back up.
So do you think that we could work out a psalm?
So I’ll know it's you and that it's over so I won't even try.
I know you'll come for the people like me.
But we all got wood and nails,
And talk dirt at hating factories.

Thursday, August 17, 2017, 5:28 PM

In the darkness before the dawn

In the swirling of this storm
When I'm rolling with the punches, and hope is gone
Leave a light on....

Here I am again, as I have been for 8 fucking years, typing in this blog because I am depressed. I vent to this blog because no one else gives a damn enough to listen. No one even reads this. The only person who has ever read this blog was Mohammed who doesn't give a fucking shit about me. He just read my blog to have shit to make fun of me for. I've let all these fucking pieces of shit into my life to use me, abuse me, try to change me and overall make me forget who I am. When I finally have people who care about me I doubt them. I am sent overboard by mild inconveniences. I am never confident in what I say. I hate myself. I hate myself for letting this shit get to me. I hate myself for not having control. I hate myself for not being able to be okay on demand. I hate myself for not being able to make people understand. No, I CAN'T control it. No, I DO NOT have the power. No one fucking understands because no one has to deal with this feeling.
Tomorrow doesn't exist. Today doesn't exist. The only moment that exists is right now, and right now, I am anxious. I am anxious and about to have a panic attack. My palms are slightly sweaty and my heart is racing. I start to feel tingly going from my stomach up to my head. Everything else outside of this anxiety does not exist. Rationality is out the window. What did I do wrong? Why are they treating me differently? My heartbeat increases. A more intense tingle shoots up my stomach to my brain. Feels like nausea. My heart is fluttering and I'm picturing everyone I love abandoning me. I'm picturing them talking about me behind my back. I'm picturing myself dying. I'm picturing myself as someone else. I constantly have to keep it at bay. True happiness is something I don't know, and probably won't ever know. Because I'm totally in control. I choose to feel this way, right? I can control this, right? Who the fuck would actually want to feel this way? What a fucking joke. I would never choose this. If I could control this it would never happen. Not even a masochist would want this.
Do you know yourself? I don't. The last time I knew myself I was still a child. I left myself in my middle school counselor's office. An unfinished product. I have just been winging it since then. I don't know how I've managed to accomplish so much while fighting this battle. I don't know how I've managed to maintain relationships and friendships. I don't know how I haven't become an alcoholic or a drug addict. I thought I was getting better. I'm just getting better at suppressing it. It's getting worse. It's getting way worse. I don't even know if it's getting worse. Is it getting worse? I always doubt myself. Like I said, I'm never confident in what I say.
My entire life is a contradiction. Just like now, how I think it's getting worse, but I also don't entirely know for sure. How can I not know? I'm me. I want to tell people about these feelings, but then I hesitate because I sound crazy or feel like a burden. I feel both ways about everything. I am never secure in my feelings. I constantly go back and forth. It's genuinely scary. I say things and then regret it a second later. I make comments online and delete them. I feel like a genuine person but I also feel like a fake person. I trust people but I also don't. I feel like if anyone knows I feel like this they will drop me on a dime. I feel like they will write off everything they know about me completely and reduce me to nothing but a rambling crazy person with daddy issues who doesn't know what the fuck she is talking about and isn't worth the time of day because this is just way too much to handle. My sisters feel this way too. We are all cursed with eternal fear and doubt. Chronic anxiety is so much more than just being a little anxious about something or having a panic attack. I don't want anyone to know. Confidence is the only way people like you. This is the opposite of confidence. But I also want people to know. I want them to care. I want them to think I'm a good person. I don't want them to think I'm crazy. I'm really actually pretty smart, interesting and funny. I like myself. But I also hate myself. I can't take the going back and forth anymore.

When I'm one way, the other is foreign to me. When I am normal, my anxiety makes no sense. As I calm down I have more difficulty describing it. I look back at what I've already written and cringe. I want to delete it. But I can't. I need to see this. I need to type this. Now I think back on the way I acted with ineffable shame. I don't know why I was so upset. I don't know why I wasted my energy. I don't know what I was thinking. All that was in my mind was that I suck and everyone is going to leave me. But I'm fluttering back and forth. Here and there I get a twinge of that feeling. That what I did is not forgivable or redeemable. That my entire persona and character is reduced to this very situation and the way I behaved. That the way I behaved is so inexplicably awful that no amount of happiness I have shared, love I have given, or bonds I have created with anyone surmounts what I did today. Days like this, I feel like someone like me is not worth the hassle. I want people to know I feel this way. But I also don't. What if I tell them and I make them realize I do suck? They read this, and they think, "Wow, she really isn't worth it." The cycle never ends.
I'll be okay tomorrow, most likely, and probably for days to come. But it's always still there. It's just weaker some times than others. There are little battles that I win, here and there. Sometimes it sneaks up on me and I slap it away. Most of the time, really. Most of the time I do a good job of fighting it. But that's the thing, I'm always fighting it. There is never a day of rest. The only time it's completely gone is if I'm drunk, high, or tripping balls. My mind is a dangerous place. And I don't like being in it. I turn into someone I don't recognize. But also, when I'm that person, I don't recognize my normal self. I'm capable of being normal. I am okay most days. But it's always lingering. It's flaring up again. I can't type this anymore. Thanks, mom and dad. I love all this psychological damage you gave me.

"You look like you're going to spend your life having one epiphany after another, always thinking you've finally figured out what's holding you back, and how you can finally be productive and creative and turn you life around. But nothing will ever change. That cycle of mediocrity isn't due to some obstacle. It's who you are. The thing standing in the way of your dreams is that the person having them is you."