Why Are We So Afraid of Feeling?

I know this is not true for everyone, especially since I am posting this on a site for writers who live off emotions and empathy. Also some people are more emotional than others and are more willing to share this with others; which I admire in a strange way. I am often quite taken aback by this, I wonder how they can be so open with someone who they still deem to be a stranger, yet still are willing to disclose such intimate details of their lives. In contrast to myself who, for the longest time, wasn’t able to share with my closest friends that I couldn’t be around them sometimes because I would rather be at home in solitude, staring at the ceiling as tears ran down my face. Even to this day when I mention these less than amusing events, I laugh it off as a joke. That doesn’t sound healthy but that is how I cope. That is how I don’t fall back into that state because it beats not acknowledging it at all.

The only way I recovered from those times was by talking about it, and even if I talk about it in a lighter tone, it helps. But why was I so scared of talking about it prior to this? Why was I so prideful not to talk about my emotions and prefer to sit in a dark room rather than come to terms with my own emotions?

Did I think I was weak for having these emotions?

Did I think I was strong to not accept these feelings?

Was I worried people would think I was weak?

Why did that matter?

Since when was acting like a human a bad thing?

It seems that basic things such as emotions and empathy are deemed as weaknesses.

And I struggle with this preconception so much.

However I’m learning.

Slowly.

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Being a Middle Child Sucks

I’m not sure if it’s like this in all families but TV and my own personal experience back this up. I have a weird family situation but essentially my mum has just me and my brother. So not the middle child here. However my dad has 4 kids and I happen to be the third. 

I’ve always been insecure that I’m the least favourite. One time my dad read my diary and I said he liked them more than me (as well as reading who I was crushing on, which for a 10 year old was absolutely devastating). All he said was that he liked us all the same. 

He could say that a thousand times but I wouldn’t believe him. That’s not the point either way. I just want to know why the eldest are the most liked because they’re the oldest. If you’re doing it because you’ve known them the longest then why are the youngest not the least favourite. Is it because you feel the need to baby them even though they are adults. 

This was stupid. I’m just trying to do this as way to make myself feel better. But who else needs to read a blog post of complete self pity? 

Can’t Help But Be Mad

So that sadness I constantly felt, well, awesome news: I’ve graduated from that feeling. However, now I have transcended to being angry. I can’t help but be pissed off with everything. If in the past people have thought that I have no have patience for others, then they should see me now. 

I loved university.. for the first 2 years. now nothing makes me happier than the thought of leaving. Maybe it’s not being pissed all the time but having no time for other people’s bullshit. 

Scenario: the person your friend liked who you never liked and you know he acted like a fucking idiot toward her, approaches us. They’re talking they have some flirty vibe and you point blank say, “all the guys in this uni fucking suck.” Then look at him straight in the eye. I actually dont have a problem with men, at all, however i would have confessed to a murder if that would mean he left. Obviously not even my friends appreciated that but I still dont regret saying that to him. 

I’m so angry that it would be easier if people found me stand-offish and would rather walk away from the little ball of hate.

Scenario dos: the person you dealt with for a year but really don’t like becomes to much for you. This girl constantly trying to buddy her way to my friends but is still rude to them. I have had enough and feel like I didn’t need to deal with it for any longer so I stopped. The way when they talk about her I just try to stop it in an obvious way and they say “wow you really hate her.” Most of the time I just say what theyre all thinking yet it blows up in my face. Being honest isn’t enough for people. 

My mum always tells me that being blunt is my problem. “You can say the nicest thing yet if someone says something meaner but with a sweeter attitude they will prefer what the other person said.” 

I cant help but be angry. I don’t know what it is. 

I am always the bad guy. When people say they are the protagonist in their own life, I somehow still turn out to be the villain in mine.

Today Was A Fucking Weird Day

So I felt like absolute shit in the morning and me being stupid and not wanting to speak about it with anyone. Just ignored it. Just before I left my house after feeling absolutely awful, I forced myself to text one of my best friends something hella cryptic. 

It was like, with no hello or any greeting just said, “is it okay if i vent to you about something even if you think its stupid?” Fully knowing she was asleep but it had to be her. 

I went to work where I felt surprisingly okay. Like I felt fine, not anxious or panicky. Eventually when I took a five minute break, I just started breathing really heavily and went to the bathroom. I saw my friends reply too. I thought I was fine so was reluctant to tell her about my brief weak moment. She persisted so I told her how I feel really sad and just wanna cry. The fact I don’t feel like myself. 

I only wanted to text her but said that I’d call her after work because she had something to tell me too. 

When we spoke she told me it was bigger than I thought and that her thing seemed so insignificant in comparison. She wants me to see someone. She told me to speak to my mum. She told me to ask our other best friend. She made me not feel like I was being dumb.

I did get home and had this whole family thing. My cousin was around along with my mum, dad and brother. So we had to do some moving and then when that happened, it was me and my mum. I felt awkward like I should ask her what depression feels like, so I don’t need to ask the internet. So once again today, because I knew I wouldnt get this opportunity again, simply asked, “mum what did depression feel like?”

She asked me, without knowing what my reaction would be, “why do you think you have it?” 

And thats when it happened. I cried so much. Like everything I held back just came out and in front of someone I really do not want to stress. Even those posts about me crying not once did I allow myself to do so. The last time I genuinely cried was when 7 years ago when my grandad died. So I was like a baby in my mums arms. She just spoke to me. But I couldn’t say why I felt like this or anything. She couldn’t pinpoint it just like me. She got my brother and once again I started crying. And, boy, I have never seen my brother so concerned. They are all confused. 

My dad then called and then I cried so much over the phone. And he knows I’m not this kind of person. 

My mum wants me to speak to her whenever I feel bad. She wants me to call a helpline if I can’t.

But it is getting to easy to cry.

Why do I feel so bad with such loving people around me? 

I Wanna Cry For No Reason 

​I just wanna go home and cry. Put on the saddest maybe even angriest songs I can possibly find and just cry. 
Possible candidates:
I Never Cry by Alice Cooper
Bury by Pay Money To My Pain
Tell Me Why by the Penpals
Disenchanted by My Chemical Romance
Dead Memories by Slipknot
What A Catch, Donnie by Fall Out Boy
When I See Your Smile by Bad English

Any other recommendations?

Burning Questions I Can’t Answer For Myself

When is it that laughing stopped being so easy. So genuine. 

When did hanging out with friends become something hard to do. 

When did being happy become a chore. 

Its just getting harder. I don’t know why. I hate myself. My friends probably hate me. I’ve been so short with them lately, I can’t help the fact that everything pisses me off. They don’t know that sometimes I feel like I shouldn’t be there, I provide no use. 

Why do all the things I love to do just mean so little to me? Not like a comparison to the universe being insignificant. But insignificant to me. 

Even small things like replying back to texts have become extremely difficult. I’m always tired. I fall asleep at 8 and awake in the middle of the night not able to sleep. Its never been a problem. Not for me at least. I detest the taste and smell of coffee so that’s really not an option. Even when I sleep, it used to be soundless. A little too soundless to be quite honest. It used to really freak me out how I could never recall my dreams but now the little I do remember are nightmares. It’s sick because I just find them amusing afterwards. 

What does it mean to look at your life as an observer? The idea that you can no longer see what you used to. 

What is it when you have only cried about trivial things such as tv shows and movies for years. The last time i cried for something that affected me was probably when I was 13. But now as i lay down I have found tears running down my face for no reason. What does it mean if I wanna cry right now. 

The only place that seems the same, maybe even better than before is the thought of going home and collapsing in bed. 

Its ironic how i feel so dead but continue to listen to anthrax im alive.

I don’t want to be around anyone right now but im feeling something I’ve never felt before. Loneliness. 

This post was a mess.

Never Be Sad Alone

I think I’m sick of shouting into the void
Only hearing my own echo once again
A lost soul that returns back to a shell which has been destroyed
I guess that’s the end then.

I don’t know why I’ve felt quite down lately but I tried looking into just talking to people. I called some friends but can’t bug them all the time so was looking at people to talk to online.
In the end I feel like my problems mean nothing but it’s hard for people who do need help. So if you’re reading this and you are a poor lost soul then you can talk to me. I don’t know who reads this but I want this to be a safe space. I don’t care if you think your problems aren’t big but if it’s enough to upset you then please drop your email and I’ll reply.

My Love

I waited for him. For so many years, I had dreamed about the perfect man and in a matter of seconds I knew that it was him. The second I saw him it was perfect. His jokes. His smile. Everything. Perfect. Completely compatible. Completely happy. My dear, when our eyes met my life changed and I can’t thank you enough for the love you fill me with.
We met in university and his perfect image never shattered through those years because he truly was perfect. I never thought I could love anyone more. I didn’t expect it to be reciprocated. Perfect.
We officially were bounded together in the summer under the sun, the perfect temperature on the best day. I wore ivory and looked beautiful. He had such a careful expression when he saw me and everyone’s eyes were on me. We said our vows and he even let out tear. Our names were put on the bottom of the paper and it was done.
And for many years I did believe everything was perfect. I loved him. He loved me, I was sure. Everyday since I met him there was never a bad day. Everything was perfect, just as I let myself believe. I couldn’t think otherwise. I never argued with him or fell out, I did everything to please him and achieve my perfection. But somehow on any other day it didn’t feel perfect. It felt gloomy. I refused to believe this omen and was determined that when I got him I would continue to be the perfect wife. That’s what we both wanted.
I went home and couldn’t believe my eyes. I saw him there laying in bed naked with another girl on top of him. They were still making noise and she kept screaming his name. They didn’t notice I was there. It was the most humiliating thing ever. They were so loud. So I let out the biggest bloodcurling scream which would be sure to leave him limp. Or even notice me. Both of them looked at me. There heads snapped back and there I stood in my tracks still screaming. The moisture going down my face I believed to be tears when I touched them they were crimson red. It was blood. My blood. He and the unidentified woman tried to make themselves as decent as possible. He put on his boxers and gave her his shirt. She stood there with fear in her eyes wearing his shirt. He tried talking to me but I couldn’t hear. My ears were ringing. Was I still screaming? My throat hurt. His lips were moving. Did he mention divorce or love. He tried moving me but I can’t let him touch me with hands that touched her. I grabbed the vase with flowers he bought and smashed it over his head. He fell to the floor. Now my hands had his blood too. I could see our crimson red mixing together. The girl ran over to his body. “Don’t touch him bitch,” I said while licking my finger tips. I felt a bit better while she screamed. “Please if you love him then call for help, just let him live.” I laughed as if I was watching a comedy movie. I laughed as she begged and then picked up a shard from the vase to cut that disgusting face of hers. She didn’t scream anymore and her eyes were still. More steadily she said, “do what you want but make sure he lives.” After that, it become boring. She was too composed. And with that it was all a blur.
When I came to. There were flashing lights. Blank. A man in a suit shouting. At me. Blank. A woman in a white coat. Blank. Red pills. White pills. Blank. I still saw his smiling face. Did he visit? These were dreams. I’m sure he saw me when I was blank. I wasn’t me. I didn’t know who I was anymore. Too many blanks too much darkness. I’m confused. I curled in a ball. Seeing the pictures of his face. Then her. The woman. I looked up and saw an old lady staring back at me. She had silver hair which looks like it hadn’t been washed or brushed in years. It was long and covering her face. She wore simple white clothes. Her pale wrinkly face, with her puffed up eyes and sour face. She looked like a horrible lady. I threw something at her and she shattered. She was gone. I lay on the floor.

The next day a newspaper article was published. It was entitled “The Long Life of a Strange Lady”. It told the story of a deranged woman. She started off as a normal young lady. Attended school, very educated, very capable. Until she met a man. Let’s call him Val. Val had never seen this woman before but he caught her looking at him and just seeing her in more places. At first he thought nothing of it but she told everyone that they were dating and she would leave notes and gifts for him. She described herself as being very much in love. Val never spoke to this woman and was already very much in love with his current girlfriend. This put a rather large strain on their relationship. He would avoid this woman even going as far as moving when he believed she was following him. But when he moved into a quiet neighbourhood with his girlfriend who was now his wife, the other woman followed him. He filed a restraining order and began to be a little scared of her. One evening while he and his wife were performing their “marital duties”. She intruded into their house and began to scream and started to hit herself, making herself draw blood. She then proceeded to hit Val over the head where he experienced blunt drama to head. The woman cut his wife and stabbed her in the stomach. The wife was 2 months pregnant. With Val on the floor and the wife bleeding, the woman laid next to Val with her arms entwined in his and that’s how the police found her. Unconscious. Val suffered from a severe concussion and his brain also had psychological problems. He dealt with unbearable headaches until his death. He forgot about that night but would often remember parts of that night in flashes which further strained his mind. Even though he may not have completely remembered about the events that transpired on that night, his wife did not. She was close to dying. Beaten bloody to the point of death. She spent 4 months in a coma and not only lost her child but also lost all feeling on the left side of her body. The pain she felt was unbearable, facing it to be almost alone. This is when she convinced her husband who was already in an unstable state to aid her in the taking her life.
Exactly one year after his wifes death, val he fell to his demise when he jumped of a bridge. Which can only be assumed to be suicide.

The lady who started of this chain of tragedies has died 40 years after his death. She was been put in a psychiatric ward. Not had one visitor or even made any friends. Her funeral, set up by the ward itself out of formality, had the nurses who looked over her attend. They pitied her and felt sorry for her, they knew what she did was wrong. But when everyone they see have done terrible things not even by their own will and still have visitors. She had no family and was by herself until she met him and all they could do was pity her because she was alone. and as the casket closed on her pale lifeless face there were no tears shed. Where everyone saw a lady that drove two people to death by a voice that was not her own. She was a woman to be so desperately lonely still craving her first love.

I Can’t Deal With Unwanted Attention

My blog is by no means a relationship feed or filled with articles about boys. I am no Carrie Bradshaw and have no intention to be.
I think I have made it clear on this site that I am destined to be spinster. Especially seeing as I am terrified of commitment and much rather spend time with my friends discussing cats or fictional characters.
I make my need for a relationship clear in real life. With men and women alike, saying that I don’t see myself in a relationship and can’t stand the effort of other people beyond friendship.
But why oh why do guys think that I am not being serious. Why do they think my insults is flirting? Why must they put me on an awkward situation?

I appreciate men who friendzone me and I friendzone them, being friends and understand the boundaries. But some boys think that if I refer to them as a buddy and thinl that they should flirt anyway. My body is not capable of flirting, my childish face, bad hair and chubby stomach screams unattractive. I’m not trying to not look good but it happens.

The experience that spurred this one was that one “friend” who I haven’t seen in a few months, started to be more awkward than usual. In the past I have spoken about girls that he may like and my views on relationships so it’s pretty clear that I don’t want any unnecessary attention. In general I tend to have awkward reactions to very explicit conversations. Today in particular he singled me out of my friends and sat a little to close to comfort. Asked me about things that I haven’t told him, so clearly seen via snap chat months ago. He chose to spend time sitting with me than with his own friends until I told him that he should go. But not before hearing my friend mention something about my bra size under her breath. To which he continued to pester me about which size I really was. I told him very clear that I wasn’t gonna tell him but he made remarks that he wasn’t gonna quit. He then returned and mentioned about it again. My friends just made jokes that they were right that he wasn’t a friend and just an awkward fuckboy.

I haven’t noticed before but I’ve been told many times that he’s checked me out head to toe when my back is turned. Also the fact that he only greets my group of friends when I’m around. Which he makes an effort to sit next to me even asking me to move my belongings and make space for him. The worst thing is when he tries to touch my feet cos I put my legs on the table (with shoes obviously. But it’s still weird.)

People would probably just say if you were attracted to him it would be different. And to that I would say maybe. I haven’t been attracted to a real person I’ve met since I was 13 and I only fall for people with a personality to match mine and I need to know someone very very well before I get those romantic feelings. And I hate that he thinks he knows me well. The reason I’m not attracted to him is because of him. His face is decent and I can see if people are attracted to him but thinking about his face makes me feel sick.

I wanna be nice but don’t wanna give out the wrong impression. I’m done with the inappropriate comments, kissy faces and the touching.

The main reason I wrote this is because I feel weird but at the same time feel like I’m over exaggerating.
Why do guys flirt with friends? Or am I just being too sensitive?