I feel like I'm the kind of person who would check the forecast after work, know that there's a high chance it's going to rain, decide to walk home anyway instead of taking the train, under the rain, wet, with an umbrella which stays dry in my bag, probably get sick the morning after, and blame the rain anyway.
I did just that today. I don't know if that says anything about me or not.
One bad thing about me is that when things don't go my way, I just automatically villainize the people involved and just simply blame them. It's way easier to redirect everything outwards so I don't have to face the sad truth that I am responsible for it. Deep down I'm probably jealous some people love themselves so much, and are so confident that they don't even have a hesitation to doubt themselves. I adore them and look up to them, but I'm also jealous. And I hate myself for it. So much.
I'm toxic. And I'm so afraid that it would be contagious; I'm pretty much fine living with it as I'm more or less used to it already, but I would never want my toxicity to fester out of me and into the people around me; I don't want to taint them.
I'm a conflicted person; I'm full of paradoxes. I want attention and some sense of caring from the people around me, but I hate being needy. I want someone to be with me and keep my companied, but I also really want to be alone. I want to stop hating myself, yet I still hate myself so much. I want to be able to see senses in things by myself, but I still need to be guided just to see the obvious every time. I want someone to listen to me, but I'm too tired to speak. That's probably why I resort to journaling. It soothes me even just for a while.
Journaling also helps me organizing my feelings and thoughts. I usually am not able to point out why exactly am I miserable; why do I feel a certain way about a certain thing, why do I not feel a certain way about a certain thing. Or worse, why do I not feel anything at all.
I would prefer a vivid, strong feeling than an empty feeling. When it's empty it's just empty and I can't do anything about it. I don't know how to make it stop. I don't even know what it is that I want to stop because there isn't anything in the first place.
It's a tremendous pressure to come to terms that in a way, everything that has ever gone wrong in my life is partly my fault too, and I am responsible for it. It's a tremendous pressure to keep in mind that maybe it's because I keep complaining and do nothing to make my life better so all I can do is to sulk about it. I don't know if I'm capable to carry that weight on my shoulders right now. I want to think that one day I'll be able to, but I really can't say for sure.
I really want to cry, but somehow I just can't.
See, isn't it depressing how I can't even cry myself to sleep.