Random Thought

Tonight I’ve realized with a sick sort of fascination that I hate caring for other living things. It fills me with anger and resentment, but it also fills me with a sadness that at times is all-consuming to the point where I can’t breathe and my stomach tightens as if my intestines are being squeezed. I’m pretty sure I know where it came from. I’m pretty sure I know the answer, but I’m not entirely sure I want to actually dive into those answers. I’m not keen on dissecting my feelings right now or maybe ever. I’m not quite sure about that either. But I also think that it doesn’t matter what I want because these feelings will eventually lead me to neglect my family, and as much as I hate caring, I hate grief even more… so diving and dissecting is what I will do.

Part of it comes from loss. I’ve experienced too much loss for my taste and I’ve been around people who have experienced too much loss, and I hate it. I hate knowing that the biggest loss in my life is partly because I was neglectful, and it’s been such a hard thing to acknowledge. That I fucked up, that my actions and my inactions were part of the reason someone I loved died. To be fair, the fault lies within this person. I did not force them to do what they did, and what they did, they knew was wrong. While I know I should have done more, I will not allow myself to place any more blame on my shoulders than what is necessary. Either way, regardless of my guilt, I am surrounded by loss and I don’t wish to experience it anymore. I no longer crave attention or love. I know that is a lost cause when it comes to family, but I don’t wish to experience anything else. And yeah, before I forget, grief should make the need and want to care for your loved ones stronger but grief is a strong emotion that weakens the strongest human…taking such an intimate part, an integral part who says that you ever get it back?

I guess the second half comes from a multitude of things. Depression, a personality disorder that I will not be discussing, and an overwhelming desire to immerse myself in a variety of fantasy worlds. It’s funny, I have no appetite, no desire to do anything worthwhile in my life. Right now, I am content to wallow in my self-pity and self-loathing until I hit a breaking point. I am content to read and lose myself in fantasy worlds I can never experience, and to read the words and feel the emotions of people who aren’t alive but aren’t dead because they never existed. It’s odd, I know, and it’s a bit pathetic as well, but quite frankly, I am at a point where I don’t care. I mean, I’m not doing anything truly harmful. I don’t do drugs, I don’t drink, and I no longer physically self-harm myself. Then again, I guess my emotional and mental self-harm is bad enough. I am quite aware I am not mentally or emotionally healthy, but as of right now, I am in no mood or situation to deal with it, and maybe that is where it comes from. I have no desire to take care of myself, so why the fuck do I need to take care of anyone or anything else?

But that doesn’t mean I don’t do it and that is what it boils down to right? What’s that saying…”It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.” I still think that’s a pretty cringy ass statement regardless of the truth that rings through it. I’m incapable of being incapable of love and that’s a pretty shit thing to be stuck with.