That’s twice in the last week that I have realised that I have failed something.
I never fail.
I don’t know what’s gotten into me, or left me, in the past week. I don’t know what it is, but it stinks of mediocrity. My new natural scent.
Me. Dee. Oh. Crit. Ee.
Mediocre at the best of times.
My standards have slipped and I appear to be in a downward spiral.
Everything I have touched recently has turned to shit.
None of this would have happened if people actually liked me.
But I have to let people close in order for them to like me. And when I do that, they just hurt me.
I’m sick of being hurt.
But this hurts more than that hurts.
These words were once antonyms and now they’re one in the same.
I can’t do this anymore. I don’t know why I bother putting in effort. It never amounts to anything.
The only time it does amount to something, it’s never appreciated enough to warrant further attempts.
People always appreciate things once they stop receiving them.
Or they appreciate the things that never eventuated.
It’s always the thought, or afterthought that counts.
This isn’t to suggest that I am any different from the rest.
I’m far from different. Which is probably why no one likes me.
Occasionally the fact that nobody likes me will cut deeper than usual.
Most of the time I can just laugh it off as ‘their loss’.
But what about the times that it’s not their loss, but mine? What about the times that people have simply gotten sick of me?
What about the times when I’ve pretended not to care, but on the inside I was breaking because I’ve lost everyone I’ve ever been close to?
What about how broken I am when I realise that if the person I need the most leaves me, I’ll be literally left with absolutely nothing?
I’ve let people slip through my fingers like grains of sand, thinking they’re not important, thinking that it’s okay because I had more important and closer people to deal with.
But did I really?
I can count on two fingers, the amount of people I feel would class me as a friend.
One of them doesn’t count because he’s my boyfriend.
I’ve literally got two people out of the whole world to depend on.
That should be comforting because they’re the two best people I’ve ever met.
But all the previous best people I’ve ever met have moved on, and I talk to none of them anymore. Ever.
The idea of this happening again gives me the shakes. I feel sick.
That’s nothing new. I’ve been living in a permanent state of nausea for the last month.
I’m not feeling very well at the moment.
I should just… Stop.