I woke up crying again and I still have that shortness of breath. I know it’s just anxiety, but I feel like I’m having a heart attack. I no longer know how to help myself. I’m asking for help, but there’s no help out there. I know what they do in the hospital because I’ve been there. They just give you more pills. It doesn’t solve the loneliness. It doesn’t solve the fact that I know no one in Baltimore, Maryland, except my sister. So, I could go to the hospital, but I’ll just be back where I am this time next week. They won’t keep me that long, even, because I’m not crazy enough. Then I’ll just have one more black mark against me. Every time I read about how we need to lock up crazy people so they don’t kill anyone, I know they’re talking about me. I don’t ever think about killing anyone other than myself. I’m sad. I’m lonely. I want a friend. I want a lover. I used to have friends and lovers. I’m in a downward spiral. It’s hard to meet people when you feel bad about yourself. Then you feel worse about yourself because you have no friends. One thing feeds into another. I’ve been trying to break this cycle since long before I started writing about it on my blog. My mother and sister know how I feel.
We live in a harsh, competitive society where the losers are just left by the wayside.
If I go to the hospital, they’ll ask if I have a plan. I don’t have a plan. I don’t want to kill myself, I just want the pain to stop. You can scream in pain and they don’t care if you’re not a threat to yourself or others, and I’m not and they know that, so they ignore me and my pain.
I wrote the man I was with yesterday evening an accusatory text. I really feel screwed over by him. Really. I wrote that I wanted company. I made it pretty clear that I felt shitty about myself and that I was desperately lonely. I didn’t expect more than one night. I try to not expect things from men. I never push for a relationship. I know how men hate that. I never ask for anything. I don’t ask them to go to the movies with me, I don’t ask them for dinner, I don’t ask them for any of the things they say they hate. I just want to spend a little time with them and maybe have sex.
I’m self-effacing to the point of being pathological. I don’t know how I could be any less demanding as a girlfriend. Well, apparently I know now.
Don’t ask for a kiss.