It’s evenings like these when loneliness and how shit things are hits me hard.
I’m in a hotel. A lovely hotel. Laying on my lovely bed on my own. I rarely feel more lonely than I do at these times. I have tears in the corner of my eyes but they can’t even be bothered to reach my cheeks. I feel useless and a failure. I am destined to spend life alone. I’m not loved, not of value, what I have to offer is worth so little it may as well not even be there. It is these times that despite feeling everything I can’t cope with the emotional feeling, I just want and need a hug, someone to tell me it will all be ok. I just want arms wrapped around me, saying the right things, stroking my hair, holding me tight. Instead I am tempted by the scissors in my wash bag, just a little cut on my arm to make me feel something real. To turn the emotional pain into physical, into something I can cope with and rationalise and understand. I’m resisting so far but it’s so hard, keeping the pain inside, not letting it out. It hurts so much. I hate myself more when I am like this, which does nothing to help me resist self harming. I’ve had the mask on all day again, I’ve tried to be good, nice, kind, clever, professional, funny, silly but it’s never enough. Never ever enough I will never be enough. Not for me. Not for anyone. This is every day. This is life.
3 Comments
D.
6/19/2021 01:47:22 pm
You're not alone mate.
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C
7/6/2021 09:17:40 am
Definitely not alone. Realised I hadn't looked at this for a while - glad I did. Hope you're OK - long since time we had a catch up!
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Andy
7/9/2021 12:55:04 am
I check in to your blog once a month (it's in my diary). I find that I can relate to a lot of the thoughts / comments. Thank you :)
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AuthorMr Paul Wyse Archives
January 2021
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