Feeling hurts, but not feeling might hurt more

I’ve started to wonder if feeling is worth it. I’ve started to wonder if caring is worth it. It was so much easier when I didn’t feel anything. When everything just happened and I took it. And nothing mattered because I just didn’t care. But it took me almost four years to get out of that, do I really want to go back there? It would be so easy to…but so hard. I don’t want to give up the real feelings that I’ve finally had. But…they’re slowly killing me on the inside, bit by bit, every weekend. Every nasty look, every bad comment. I’m not good enough, I can’t please them, I don’t do things right, I start fights…I start fights when I’m not even there. I’m almost afraid to go back this weekend…

I try. I really do. I want things to be ok. I want us all to get along. But nothings working. And continually I wonder if I’m the problem because things seem to go just fine when I’m not there. And Claire’s still not happy that I’m not living at the house. She brings it up all the time. But she didn’t even want me at the house. They don’t have room for me there. If I was there, I’d be spending the same amount on transport anyway even though she thinks I wouldn’t. And I’d be so much farther from everyone and wouldn’t ever be able to do anything with people.

I feel trapped. If I was in America, if I had the Sable, I’d get in and just leave. Drive two or three hours out, and then come back, like the night I went to Redmond. I wish I had a car just for that. I don’t even care about taking the bus to school or walking places or anything. Just if I could leave anytime I wanted to. That’s it.
I’ve been freaking out and worrying and I know I shouldn’t be :/ I really should start reading my bible again, but I don’t have it. I think it’s still in Dublin…I don’t want to get a new one, because I’ve been through a lot with that one. It was from my mom when I was 11. It’s been through periods of intense study, periods of intense loathing, been thrown against walls in anger, been placed under my pillow for safekeeping. I know it’s just a book and getting another really shouldn’t be that big of a deal and I really shouldn’t be that attached… :/ but I don’t know. There’s also a note from my dad in there that he wrote when I graduated from high school. I think it was the first time that I really believed he was proud of me, because it took a lot more than it should have to get me to graduate. It’s my only copy of that note.

I’m back to the “I’m not good enough” stage where I was before Encounter. I guess there’s a difference between knowing truth and believing it. I’ll convince myself that I am worth it, that people do care and that I am likeable, and everything’s ok. But then I get treated like I’m not and they act like they don’t care and I know that I’m not liked…and suddenly, I start to question again. And each time it hits me deeper. And each time I have to start convincing myself all over again. And each time it gets harder and harder to do so.




Also, I need to tell somebody this, but I don’t want to actually tell someone. It was seven months. That’s the longest it’s ever been. Now I’m back to zero. Well not really. Probably not according to most people. But to me it counts. And to me it’s starting over.


And I was right. I do feel like a failure.