An Unceasing Wound

The unintentional, unnoticed rejection of loved ones is a heart-breaking affair. I get this way sometimes. I get so fucking lonely. And so fucking sad. Why the fuck am I this way? I have so much. I'm so ungrateful. And yet, I whine about not feeling good, yet I neglect to reflect on the times when life is wonderful. I wallow in the sadness, refusing to pull myself up. Everyone feels sadness. I have it great.

Is that enough self degradation so that I can now not feel guilty about feeling this way? Hope so. Because for now, all I can see is myself when I feel like this.

I'm so alone. I reach out to people, but somehow, I always break or break something. It's this sinking feeling in my chest, like its about to cave in on itself. It's pressure behind my eyes, they're about to cry, but can't seem to do it. It an invisible weight on my head, pushing it down. I'm feeling the intense pressure of my body and soul being compacted in on itself, where the pain snaps my head to the side and cranks my eyes tightly shut. This feeling is the absence of the feeling of love, of belonging, of importance. This feeling is the intense void that crushes me.

Don't you dare condescend. Don't you dare belittle my feelings. I can't take it anymore. I understand people have it worse than me, but I'm fucking tired of sucking it up in the name of those less fortunate. I'm fucking selfish, you say. Okay, well fuck me, cuz I can deal with that. I can't deal with not being real anymore. I'm hurting. I hurt sometimes. It's been less frequent lately, but tonight shows me that time doesn't heal all wounds. This wound is as fresh now as it was in October. It's worse, because I was under the false impression that it wouldn't hurt this badly anymore. But it hurts because I was mistaken. I assumed that I felt lonely only because this one person I loved rejected me. But now I know I feel lonely when anyone I love rejects me.

I just discovered that the language through which I give and receive love is verbal communication. That's when it's real to me. When the people I want to love me tell me they love me, I can think of no greater source of happiness for myself. But right now, I feel so alone because I can't remember the last time someone said they loved me and I believed them. It has to be verbal-text message or letter or email won't do. I have to audibly hear the other person speaking those words, I have to visually see them with my eyes. My "love language" is the spoken word.