they say you don't know what you got 'til it's gone / / they say that your darkest hour comes before your dawn

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Hank Moody;

Hank Moody is like the secret double life I live. That kind of life I don't share with anyone else. It's the one I live inside my head. I think it's about time it joined the real world. It's the me that's mean, prone to abusing my body with alcohol, that's a disappointment and the me that lets people down. The abusive side. I keep that mean son of a bitch in hiding inside my head because... Well, life's just easier that way.

The trouble I have with most of this is that I don't even know who this inside me is. You know it's part of you, but it's not who you see when you look in the mirror. It's that shit-head person that exists when you fuck up. It's the part of yourself that you don't associate with who you are. The part of you that you blame every time something goes wrong. You don't know who they are, you just know they're there. You can't stop their existence, but you don't want to let them run wild. The side of you that's bad. The side of you that you want to change with every once of strength, but never do.

When you're pissed off at your cheating, lying ex-boyfriend, it's that vicious person who surfaces at the right moment, and strikes without mercy. It's the person inside of you who spills all the dirty secrets your now-ex-best-friend told you, and you spill them to everyone they'd hurt without hesitation. It's the you that tells your parents that you hate them because they caught you doing drugs, or drinking alcohol, or because they caught you somewhere you shouldn't have been. The angry and hurtful you that attacks yourself after you've screwed up that one last time. It sits there, waiting, and lets rip when you give it just the slightest bit of an opening.

After all the damage has been delivered, you sit there in a pool of self loathing hatred wondering how the fuck you could have ever done those things. You don't remember what you said or did, it all feels like some messed up dream. Like none of it was real, and that your drink must have been spiked because you normally wouldn't have acted like that. You cry, you scream, you hate yourself, and you take that long deep look into your reflection and you realise that there's something wrong with you.

That's when you notice you're a fucking mess. Everything slowly starts to unfold, and you begin to recall moments in your past where things could have ended like this but didn't. You remember moments where this shit-head person once surfaced before, but you managed to shut them out. Somehow you took control then, but lost it now. And it makes you feel utterly fucking helpless. Everything turns to shit and you feel like a lost soul wandering alone forevermore. You don't want to be alone, but you don't know what else to do. It can go a variety of ways; a) you sort your shit out and get it together; b) you roll with it and destroy every bridge you ever built, or; c) you abuse the fuck out of your body to numb it out.

I've been through all above options. I've been that heartless bitch who didn't give a shit about anyone, including myself. I've had my turn at self destruction. And I thought, until 6 or so months ago, that I had sorted my shit and had it together. I thought, for once and for all, I had got it right, and that everything was going to get better. Too bad the other side of me had other plans. It's not like the other side of me isn't appreciative of all the things I have, because it is, it's just that... Well, sometimes I feel so shit that I don't feel like that's enough to hold me together anymore.

Don't get me wrong, I am 100% content with my life. I fucking love it to death. Everything I've ever wanted, I have. I have a home, a family, a boyfriend, friends, my kitty, independence - everything. It's just, some days I feel like packing up and catching the next flight out of here. I don't want to lose anyone or anything like that. I love every person apart of my life. They're the reason why I refuse to let my depression get the better of me. But... Sometimes I'm not sure that by being here, I'm doing the best I can to make everyone happy. Fuck, that sounds so goddamn wrong, but you know what I mean. Everyone, ev-ery-one, goes through those days where shit's too much to handle.

And I guess at the end of this, all I'm trying to say is this - the side of me that's the epitome of what I said above is not who I want to be. I don't know how I'm supposed to deal with this shit person, but ignoring them and keeping them inside of me only causes me to explode. I don't want to go on a rampage and hurt everyone I love. I don't. I guess... I guess I have to learn to live with it, and hope that everyone who loves me can deal with me at my worst. Because I know if I were them, I'd leave me behind.

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