I swear, if I could afford it, I'd be knocking at a therapist's door. Not that it ever helped much for me, as I spent the entire hour telling a person my psychology theories as to why I am the way I am, instead of busting through the bullshit. All of my real breakthroughs occurred by myself, sudden realizations, sudden breakdowns, the loss of hubris,....I need a friend that will understand me better than I know myself. A person that will listen patiently to my ramblings and not feel they have to fix me. Someone who will see what I'm doing wrong, but not judge me for it. But no such person exists, everyone judges, especially me. And no one can ever know me because I refuse to share parts of myself anymore. But isn't that wrong? And if I'm too afraid to take the risk, then the true friends will never come to me.
What I have left of myself is so precious to me, held tight to. I have lost myself over and over due to traumas, victimization, tragedy. I can't afford to loose anymore. So selfish I am, but the strings I hold now, are so few. The bundle I once had have all been stitched in; they left me. I feel that she has my strings, but she's not in the right place to share. We are not in the right place to help the other. How can it be that we're both falling apart? I'm in a desperate shape, despite my talk, despite what I convey....I'm falling into the black again. I can't find the light, and I'm barely holding on to my partner's hand. Jason is holding me together, he's the only one. He understands the blackness, he sees it fall over my eyes. How can everyone else be so blind? Or if they do see, why do they not care?
I'll shut up now...no one cares anyway....just me, and my record.