Levels

As she peeled away

Skin, thought and reason

She was taken over

By the stunning, glorious realization

that

no one could ever hurt her

as long as she hurt herself first.

A Birthday Present

My eldest brother paid for my first tattoo. It was a birthday gift for when I turned 19. I had gotten the word "In all our imperfections, we found ourselves" tattooed on my wrist as a reminder to not be so hard on myself. I am my own worst critic – I believe I am all the viruses of the world trapped in the body of a post-adolescent girl.

But the long, drawn out meaning behind my tattoo isn't the point of this post. My brother is.

About a month ago, we got into a huge argument. I had snapped at my younger brother for being an ungrateful brat. I don't deny that I may have been unnecessarily harsh on him (though I maintain that he was behaving like an ungrateful brat) but I was in a very bad headspace at the time. I'm not making excuses, physical force/abuse is unacceptable, but that was what kicked off my lapse of judgment.

My eldest brother confronted me about it. I would rather not divulge the words we exchanged but it was anything but civil and derogatory slurs were uttered/screamed.

After retreating into my room, and hearing my eldest brother tip over the contents of a shelve outside, I decided to cut myself.

It wasn't the first time I had done so; I started cutting in high school and picked it up again about two months before this incident. I went for my wrist. My tattoo tried to work its magic as it always has before; it seemed bolder than usual. It spoke to me "Don't do it. You're only human."

I sat for long moments crying and completely indecisive. Finally, in a moment of vulnerability, the turmoil in my head just piqued and I drew the blade in a diagonal stroke just below my tattoo. It was bleeding quite badly and I had a show to perform in 4 hours so I bandaged up and got ready to leave for the theater.

A month from the incident and the gash is still there. In fact, it is the most noticeable of all my self harm scars.

When I meet new people and they learn that I have a tattoo, I can never show them. When they ask, I tell them what it reads and I say to them "Yes, it was a birthday gift from my brother." While the scars were still fresh and red, I even made the conscious effort to wear something long-sleeved every time I went out.

My dad and eldest brother have noticed the scars but I never told them the specific reason behind them. Whenever I get into minor arguments with my eldest brother nowadays, I back away as soon as possible.

But sometimes I wonder how he would react if he knew that the worst scar I have, the scar that could have with slightly more pressure landed me in the hospital, is a result of the things we said that day. I'm not saying the scar is his fault. My mind is tragically not my own and it gives me bad thoughts.

I'm looking at my wrist now and I don't think the tattoo says as much about me as the scar does.

So. Here's one more flaw to add to the growing list of my imperfections.

A Race to Nowhere

It was coming for him and no matter how hard he told himself to wait for it, to embrace it, he found himself running. Running as far and as fast as he could. Not me, he thought. After all I’ve done, not me. He tried to outrun this force but he knew he would eventually tire. Still, he ran...

Until he didn’t. He was spent. He stopped, turned around, ready to accept his fate like all the others. To his surprise, it was gone. His pursuer was nowhere to be found. The realization that he had beaten the ultimate test, however, did not come with elation.

He had been prepared to celebrate, to bask in his glory. After all, a whole new world of possibilities was now open to him. But, shockingly, none of them seemed that spectacular anymore. He found himself without purpose. He was prepared for anything but this. All he felt now was loneliness. An infinite degree of isolation and un-being.

His triumph, if he chose to call it that, had outdid him and suddenly he became immensely aware of how insignificant he was in the grand scheme of things.

And then finally, he understood. Life is nothing without death and immortality is the ultimate curse. He had not won; he was being penalized.

With this in mind, he tightened his laces and started walking back, searching for the one thing he had been trying so hard to escape.

He no longer feared mortality; he craved it.

Give it time.

So. What are you going to do, Belinda?

Are you going to continue pretending or are you going to come clean? Coming clean seems like the best option but right now I can't see much good out of doing anything. People will say the same things and as much as you don't want to care, you know you will. It will affect you. You will feel weak. You will feel like a loser, a child. You don't want to feel like that, do you?

The question remains. What to do next?

You cannot deny that you've been feeling a bit better. It's easier and simpler now for you to get lost in laughter and cheer. You haven't forgotten though because when you're alone, your mind still brings you back to where you left off. But around people now, you can be somewhat happy okay.

It's unfortunate then that what matters most is you being comfortable all by yourself and you are not there yet, Belinda. Not yet.

Throwing in the towel.

I have defeated myself in so many ways.

My fight is gone. You must never give up on yourself. But I am not who I am anymore.

Whose life it this? It can't be mine.

fatigue.

Don't make imagine that I am not trying. I try. But these voices are not easily suppressed.

I'm very tired.

I realise that is what I've been the past 2 months. I  continuously say I'm tired. I don't know why I feel this way, if I did, it would all make sense.

I am a mess. I am tired.

You get what you need.

"Bottom line, couples that are truly right for each other wade through the same crap as everybody else but the big difference is they don't let it take them down. One of those two people will stand up and fight for that relationship every time. If it's right and they're real lucky, one of them will say something." – Dr Cox

Scrubs, the TV show of life lessons. I cried once or twice or a few times. Comedic characters always have the saddest stories to tell. What was it? Comedy is humor masking pain? Perhaps.

Anyway, I don't know if I agree with everything Dr Cox said. 'truly right for each other' and all that. I'm not sure if I believe a hundred percent in this true love concept. It is a possibility but unlike most people who rejoice at the idea of 'the one', it worries me.

I wrote a very long rant about true love versus hard work just now but I realise after reading it through that it's all beating around the bush and this is actually what I was trying to say;

I'm (partly) terrified that there isn't someone out there who is just right for me. And if that's the case, no amount of work I put into a relationship will make a difference because with true, everlasting love, comes also the notion of true, eternal loneliness.

Long due epiphany

I'm a fool for wanting things with someone who doesn't feel the same way.

I'm a fool for still wanting things with someone who very obviously isn't interested.

I've only ever wanted to be good enough for someone. I would like to be loved as I love. I want a relationship, a something, whatever, that will make me feel worth it. For once, I'd like to feel equally important, equally beautiful and equally lovable.

A life without love is a life not worth living.

ugh.

I hate it when you make a decision, and you know it's the right one, but still you regret it. I hate it when the right decisions are the hardest to make.

I had to make a decision. And this is decision is the best for now. But please, please, please… don't write it off as absolute. And please continue to work and get better. I wouldn't have made this decision if it wasn't in your best interest.

It's hard to accept this change though. I still catch myself in denial at times because I still feel it all. Don't tell me it's unhealthy; I will learn in time.

Blocked.

There was a reason I had crap relationships. And the reason is me.

Yes, my exes were douches. I can't say I'm too proud of the relationships I've had. But when I think back, were they not better towards me at the beginning?

Maybe they were feigning. Maybe there were only nice to me until they knew for certain that they had me on a leash and let's face it, I'm the kind of girl who falls hard. I'm pretty pathetic.

So maybe… maybe I was played.

Or maybe I deserved everything I got from them. All of them. Even the first. The very first.

I asked to be treated that way. I was willing to sell myself so low that it only made sense for them to treat me the way they did. I tempted them. I asked for it.

I turned them into the things I now hate.

There must be something about me that is toxic. Or maybe not. Maybe it's just the way I am. I am bad for relationships. I am bad for people. There hasn't been one relationship that I haven't screwed up. I'm a shit girlfriend. I'm needy, I'm controlling, I'm clingy, I'm disgusting, I'm manipulative.

I'm everything… I'm everything love should not be.

So maybe I don't know love. Maybe I think what I have is love, but maybe all I'm offering is chaos.

I don't have the right to blame anyone for leaving.

I understand now that they all leave not because they're unreasonable but because I push them away. Because no one could ever love someone as vile as I am. The things I do, the things I say. And it is all my own fucking fault. I'm unlovable because I refuse to reform.

I shouldn't even bother. They say love is sometimes around the corner. But I live in a state that love just cannot survive in.

I'll stop playing the victim. The previous guys in my life weren't terrible people; they just made the mistake of hanging around me too much.

Actually, no. I said I wouldn't blame them. They didn't make a mistake. I forced myself upon them.

I infected them. And if you don't leave me soon, I'm afraid you're just going to end up hating me even more. I'm sorry