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Wednesday
Feb212018

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"What am I?"

That's been coming up a lot lately. The answer is never satisfying. The answer is never what I want it to be. I was asked if I was a good person. I hesitated. Before I could figure out how to answer the person no longer wanted to hear it. 'Ask yourself that and when you have the answer tell it to yourself.' That stung. I didn't say 'ouch' though. The person has no idea how much it sucks to be right all the time. So much so that even when you call yourself anything but, you're still it. Right. It's laughable. No. It's just sad. It's sad and I still don't understand how to relate to humans in a manner that is acceptable for both parties. I wonder if that's the nicer way to answer the question. I am unrelatable.

For what seems like the longest time now I've found myself wondering if there was something wrong with me or the world. Should be a no-brainer but whenever I speak to the crisis hotline or therapists they imply that perhaps it isn't. Me that is. So I've been putting it to the test. My life is full of setbacks. Every life is. Instinctively I attribute the blame to me and my shortcomings. The implication is that depression makes one less objective. So, I try to leave myself open to the possibility that I'm just catastrophizing. Recently though things expanded outward into all aspects of my life. I lost every friend I once had. "Lost" would be a lie. I distanced myself from them. The reasoning is convoluted but what it amounts to is the fact that I didn't feel like they were true friends anymore. Now, just over half a decade later, trying to make a friend again I find that I was short-sided in my previous understanding. I've found that it wasn't that they weren't true friends. It's just that I didn't know what a friend was. Something, I think I finally understand now. And, like so many other things in this life, I am what's wrong with the equation.

A friend isn't supposed to be their for you. A friend isn't supposed to accept you for who or what you are. A friend isn't supposed to allow you to vent your frustrations or release your pain and sorrow. A friend is supposed to tell you your happiness is a lie or wrong and that you should find it elsewhere. A friend is supposed to tell you you're not mentally okay and that there's something wrong with you. A friend is supposed to set limits on what you can say or express. A friend is supposed to tell you that you being honest and open makes them feel bad and unhappy. A friend is supposed to tell you that they don't want to hear about your day, your interests, your dreams. A friend is the person you have to warp and contort yourself to make happy because no one else wants anything to do with you. A friend reminds you that deep down inside, you're worth more dead than you ever were alive.

"What am I?"

I am better in smaller doses. I am better faceless. I am better when I don't speak. I am better when I'm filling a void in someone else's life until they get what they were missing and can move on. I am unremarkable. I am undesirable. I am alone. I am in the dark. I am alone. I am where I've always been. I am alone. I am the only place I'm allowed to be. I am better in smaller doses.

Okay, so the last few weeks have been depressing as all hell. Fortunately for any readers, you'll be safe in knowing I'm not going to kill myself. At least not deliberately. For some reason I seem to have the capacity to contain all this sorrow and pain. Maybe because the self-hate runs just that deep. Either way, welcome to the empty lamb. And would you look at that. The worthless sacrifice. Seems fitting. But no, that's me projecting myself on this. I'm not emptylamb.

"emptylamb.com"

The vessel I fill with my love, my pain, my joy, my sorrow, my rage, my compassion, my mind, my soul, my all to sacrifice for that which resides beyond. I guess I lied. I am going to kill myself. But it's okay. It was always going to end that way. I've been trying so hard to figure this out but I already had the answer the whole time. It can't be the whole world that's wrong so it has to be me. I'm what's wrong. So I'm what must go.