I’m sick

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Ha. Maybe I do actually. Maybe that’s the problem.

I’m sick, a cold and I’ll be fine in a day or two. It’s not that bad but I had to miss work. Which means I’ve got way too much time to myself.

My mother offered to make me soup earlier. I can confidently say that she has never once offered to make me soup. I declined, I hate soup. A fact that she should probably know but the disappointment of her not knowing is overshadowed by the fact that she offered.

Funny isn’t it? I ignore things all of the time, I let the small things overshadow everything. My boss tells me I’m his best employee and I’ll ignore the fact that i’ve worked a month without a day off. I’ll ignore the fact that my sister only talks when she wants something because she asked how I was. I’ll ignore the fact that my mother doesn’t know me because she made a small gesture of love.

Love’s a funny concept. Does it even exist? I feel like I’ve been chasing the feeling my entire life and I’m scared I’ll never find it. I’ve got enough ex’s for a lifetime and yet they never loved me. I don’t think I loved them either, not in the way you love a partner. I loved my last ex but she didn’t love me.

My mother loves her children but does she love me? No. No she doesn’t. I wasn’t raised in a house of love, it was cold and calloused. I’m the result of a loveless child and I hate it. I hate me.

There’s a saying, maybe a quote ‘How can you love me when you can’t even love yourself?’. I’ve never disagreed with a statement more because I can love. Maybe it’s not deep existential love, maybe it doesn’t explode in my chest, maybe it’s not obvious. But I love easily because I know what it’s like to feel unloved.

I’ve hated myself for so long that I don’t remember when I didn’t. It’s not a surface hatred, it’s imbedded into my skin, something that flows through my veins. It’s easy, simple, a fact.

I don’t know what it’s like to feel loved. Will I ever know?

I’m tired man. Tired in ways that aren’t in a dictionary or on a wiki page. Tired of merely existing in a world that seems to be betting against me at every opportunity.

I’m tired. Tired of failing, tired of drowning in this endless ocean that people call life. Tired of moulding myself to be loveable just to fail, tired of being taken for granted by people who are supposed to care.

I’m tired of running towards things that don’t exist, tired of running away from things that do. I stopped for a while, let myself sink and that just made everything so much worse.

So I’m running again. It’s not obvious, no one notices or *** they do but they just don’t care.

I’m not dying my hair, it’s natural. I haven’t had a new piercing or tattoo in months. My room is a tip, I can’t find the motivation to clean. I’ve got no friends, I don’t go out.

I’m 19. I’m 19 years old and I’ve got nothing. No degree’s, no career’s in sight. No friends, no partner, no decent family. I have hundreds of books that I can’t convince myself to read, a phone filled with poems that’ll never see the light of day.

I’m so lonely that I have a voice note app so I can’t just ramble and not worry about anyone not caring. I ramble and vent on here for a few people to see because some days I can convince myself that someone cares.

They don’t. They’re strangers, we’re miles apart. They don’t know me. They know my vents and rambles but they don’t me. And that’s all it is at the end of the day.

When I was younger, I wanted everyone to know me. I begged for attention because I was starved from it, I was friends with everyone and anyone because I wanted to be seen.

But over the years I’ve built walls too high to be seen over. Walls built out of pain and anguish, it’s only distinguished feature is the fact that my blood stains them.

I’m bleeding out. I have been for years and it doesn’t matter how much pressure I put in the wounds, they’re are just too many to stop. So now what?

I keep doing this, all of this until I pass? Until I give up or my body does?