Tw gets a bit dark sorry

There are a lot of questions that I don’t have answers too. Shocking I know, I can ramble on for hours about useless topics, topics no one wants to hear about. I fall down many rabbit holes and the information I remember is information that’s not needed.

I can explain to you the difference between bpd and bipolar, I have paragraphs worth of notes yet if you put me back in a year 11 classroom, I’d stare at you blank. If you asked me about details from my childhood, I’d give you meaningless stories but I couldn’t tell you how old I was. Couldn’t tell you the when, the where, couldn’t tell you details.

It’s a trauma response, I know that.

‘What do you want from life’

It’s a simple question, perhaps easy for most. There are dozen other questions like this that make me zone out. My mind goes blank as I try to search for an answer and out comes what you expect to hear.

“To be happy”

But then the question stutters in my mind for hours till I’m in my room, staring up at the ceiling.

‘What do you want from life’

10 years old, I would’ve told you that I wanna help people. I would’ve told you that my dad is mentally ill and that I wanna help people because of that. I would’ve told you that I don’t wanna be alone, that I wanna surround myself with people who care about me because I felt so alone.

‘What do you want from life’

13 years old, I would’ve told you that I want my step-dad to come back because my mom left too. She was there, but she wasn’t. I lost someone I cared about and I was alone with it. I would’ve told you that I wanna be happy because my life was miserable. That wasn’t even the beginning. The beginning was when I was 6 and my mother hit me hard enough to leave a mark. The beginning was when I was born and not wanted. The beginning was when I was conceived in a loveless marriage, when I was conceived during pain and anguish. The beginning was the abortion my mother had before she was stuck with me.

‘What do you want from life’

15 years old, I would’ve told you that I want to be better because I was struggling. I would’ve told you that I want out of the house that was never a home because my mother had made it a landmine. I would’ve told you that I don’t want to be alive because the kind of peace I wanted was death. I would've told you nothing because I had given up on life. Lines covering my wrists and thighs, s**cide constantly on my mind. I was drowning, and I didn’t think I’d make it any further.

‘What do you want from life’

16 years old, I would’ve told you that I want to believe that it gets better. I wanted proof that I wouldn’t be depressed and in pain for the rest of my life. I wanted proof that the work and effort I was putting in actually meant something. I would’ve told you that I wanted to be a lawyer because that’s what my mother wanted me to be. I would’ve told you that I want to have motivation because I didn’t want to keep being a disappointment.

‘What do you want from life’

At 17, I would’ve told you d-ath because the attempt only got me more hurt. I would’ve told you that I wanted to be a hairdresser because I was clambering for anything at that point. I would’ve told you that I wanted people to see me, not pass me. I wanted my mother to love me, to notice me, to care about me.

‘What do you want from life’

At 18, I would’ve told you that I want my now ex girlfriend. I would’ve told you that I want to be loved like I loved her. I would’ve told you that I just want to live a good peaceful life with the love of my life. I could move past the pain and hurt, years of trauma. I wanted to live a life with her, not because of her, but because she made me a better person. She gave me reasons to live and not one of them was because of her. It was the stars in the sky, peace that comes in the loudness, warmth that comes in the cold. I would’ve told you that I wanted to love her for the rest of my life.

‘What do you want from life’.

Now 19, I don’t answer the question. I avoid it, dodge it because I simply don’t have an answer. I can’t even find a lie. I look at colleges, universities, jobs, opportunities and I feel nothing. I try dating and it never works out. I’m still drowning but at least I’m trying.

Yet I’m working the same job that takes advantage. Yet I’m still at that same house that never felt like home. Yet I still can’t figure out what I want for the future because I never made a plan. Never asked myself what I wanted because I knew the only answer was peace. A peace only ever found in death.

So I stare at my ceiling, questioning everything. at 6 I wanted to help people and at 19 I’m my mother’s biggest regret. What do I do with that?

How do I pick up the pieces of a life that has always been splintering. How do I pick up the pieces of a life that was never supposed to exist? I’m aimless. Yet I’m worried that this is it. Work a dead end job, fall in love with someone who see’s me as good enough. Live a life that’s not mine but what people expect because I forgot who I am. Or maybe I never figured it out, maybe it never existed.

I cling to this fantasy in my head of doing what I actually want but I have no clue what I want. I cling to the idea of happiness but I can’t remember the last time I felt it.

I can be good, and kind. I can help and be polite. I can mould myself into what people expect, what they want, I already have done. But then what? What happens when the clay starts to dry and crack? What happens in 30 years when I have a life that’s not mine? What happens in 30 years when I’m just as miserable as I am now?

What do I do when I want to live but no clue how to live?