My head is throbbing, i’m too hot, now i’m cold. i can’t sleep, i’m exhausted. nothing seems to work, nothing pleases me. my therapist kind of fussed me out Friday and now i’m on a mission to do better. the problem is all the things i need to fix i don’t know really how. i have all these skills i learned inpatient and through out therapy but if they worked so well why the fuck aren’t they working? i’m using them wrong i guess. and so i can’t sleep, and the age old question is what is keeping you up. Why can’t you sleep Krystle? normally i would respond with oh i just don’t sleep. i’m a robot, but my therapist has told me over and over i am indeed not a robot. i have a body, and i am human, with feelings and fucking emotions. and my body has failed me on numerous occasions. like when i sprain an ankle or a wrist or something, which i do an abnormal amount of times a year. my body fails me when i am on a starving mission and my stomach growls and screams at me to feed it. my body fails me in the middle of the night when i have a night mare or a flash back and i find myself curled up in a fetal position either in a ball in my closet or on my bed sobbing hysterically. my body fails me. my human body fails me. it failed me when i was a little girl and i couldn’t stop what was happening to me. when i was to weak to push him off me, to scream no, stop, please, it hurts. and i wanted to be a robot. i wanted to be a machine. i wanted my insides to be hard wiring, i wanted my outside to be made of rubber and metal. i wanted to have no emotions. no feelings. i wanted all the pain i had to endure to mean nothing because the people who caused it treated me like nothing.
When i was a little girl i had a favorite aunt who everyone said was crazy and she was. but i didn’t mind because she was my favorite and i think i was hers. she said “you know you are something special because god doesn’t make junk.” but the truth of the matter is god makes all kinds of shit. humans are junk in a sense. we aren’t anything special, i mean after all we are flawed and damaged and broken. we hurt each other with every ounce of energy we have as soon as we can. we create our weight and 10 times that in garbage throughout our lifetime. God DOES make junk. My dad was a piece of shit, and god made him. And if you are super religious which i am not but those people tend to think being gay is a sin and maybe they think that is junk too. i guess it all depends on what you believe and who you are and what your concept of junk really is. Like people call certain cars pieces of junk, but to me if it gets you from point a to point b it’s fulfilled it’s purpose. how could it be a piece of junk?
Well i would rather be a piece of junk of a robot than the broken human that i am. i’d rather be anything other than what i am. i scare myself sometimes with who i am as a person. i deeply believe i am a good person at hurt, lord knows i try my best anyhow. we all fall short i suppose. and i am working with a lot more than i’ve had in the past so thats a blessing. but i’m still so damaged. i still want to destroy myself. i’m not trying to kill myself, just something inside of me. i can’t explain it. i wish i could. but i can’t. not that i think anyone would really understand anyhow.
i just wish i could be a robot and none of this would matter.