Sometimes I wish that everything I owned would still fit into a backpack, and I could simply throw it all into one, and toss it into my car, and just *go*. Run away, and just keep going. Not that I know where I'd go, exactly. Or what I'd do when I go to wherever there ended up being.
But there are days lately where all I really want to do is *go*. Run. Escape. Not deal with anything, or anyone, for any reason.
I managed to split myself into two separate parts, to get through some problems that I was having. To help a friend, I divided myself. And now I'm stuck, because I can't quite seem to put myself back together. If I say how I feel, that I'm hurt and angry and broken...where does that leave me? I don't want to be hurt or angry or broken. I just want to wipe it all away and forget it. In fact, I'm trying very hard to do just that. And I succeed most of the time. But every now and then, it just creeps out, and it smacks me out of nowhere, and I break. For no apparent reason, with no provocation. I just slip, and seemingly from the great beyond, I collapse. And it has to be frustrating, because it seems as though there's nothing wrong.
And I hate myself. And I blame myself. And I cry, when there's no one to see me. I've cried oceans of tears, so many that I wonder that there are any left. I sob until I'm empty, and then I put the cork back into the bottle, pick up the pieces, and start over again, going through the motions, because I don't know what else to do.
And I'm not even angry *at* anyone. I'm simply angry, because I hurt. And I feel lost, and I don't know how to make it stop. I am unfamiliar with this feeling. My normal course of action is to simply cut out the pain and walk away, and I didn't do that. Cut and cauterize the wound. That's always been my solution in these types of situations. If it hurts, cut it off, burn it, and then it will be over, and I can move on. It will hurt like hell, but after a while, it will get better.
I've done that before. Burned it off so completely I can't even remember parts of it. I don't want to do that again. Cutting out a part of yourself seems to not be as a good of an idea now as it was when I was younger, but that doesn't leave me with a great set of solutions for what to actually *do* now.
So I sit. And I think. And my mind runs around in circles, and I slowly drive myself crazy. And it builds up like a slow shake on a glass bottle of carbonated water, which will explode after a while, because of the pressure. Which I guess is essentially what keeps happening. I keep exploding. And then the bubbles have popped out. And I put the cap back on, put the bottle away, and wait for another day, when it's a slow shake up again.
And I don't know what to do, or what to think. And I'm so tired. And it hurts so much. And I'm so tired of crying quietly alone.
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