Gossamer
Todos estamos untados
- Sep 1, 2022
- 34
I have made a grave mistake, that took its roots ten years ago. My home life was never good, coming from a poor immigrant family, witnessing two people who hated each other crumble down, staying in a broken relationship for the sake of keeping the status quo. As a lot of people have, my childhood was wrecked with violent abuse. I remember keeping a sheet of paper where I would write down the streaks of days where I wasn't beaten by a fist, slammed against a wall, spat on, yelled at, touched against my will, and I remember spending my days in a cramped corridor, trying to ignore the fights between my mother and my father/her relatives as I focused on a book. This, along with being autistic, messed up my social skills. My emotions are not regulated, I would feel intensely and yet come off as cold, bitter, self-centered... It also doesn't help that I'm incredibly paranoid, reading antagonistic intentions everywhere, tensing up from a comma missing in a text, feeling like nowhere is safe and that I am fundamentally deserving of hatred. Ten years ago, I fucked up quite badly with being an asshole to a friend. She was different from me, very sensitive, explosive, and I did not like her actions, to the point where I would be too critical : I'd bitterly point out the flaws I perceived, thinking I was the mature one, until she broke down and couldn't stand the berating any longer. To this day, I regret it and can't function without guilt. My main aim in life has been to improve, to be caring, compassionate, to take accountability, while knowing that I could never, ever be a kind person. I am, and always will be, a monster in the eyes of the people who spent time with me. This has been emphasized with how my ex, a wonderful girl with a lot of talent, has been suffering from our relationship. She finally broke yesterday after I accused her of hurting me (and she did, we were codependent and atrocious for one another, but I am the worst of the two, she is healthier when she is away), and sent me a long letter detailing my bad actions, how I've ruined her life, destroyed her, made her scared of me, of herself. I drank heavily to stomach this relationship, and it got out of hand. I slept in the streets, got into fights, lost connections, was sexually abused after I drank to the point of being blind drunk.
I am fortunate enough to have a caring boyfriend, a man who is brilliant, mature, kind, and who firmly holds me responsible when I've messed up. He does not shy away from pointing my flaws and errors. I also have a close friend, who is like a brother. To remember the person I am hurts too much, and I can only see myself poison their lives from how damaged I am. My alcoholism has destroyed what was left of my soul, and my hamartia was having let a former relationship fester, and to never, ever, have been brave, adult enough to face the music. This is the end for me. I no longer have dreams of being a writer, an artist, of helping people, of being a kind person. No matter what happens, this is the person I am, and no amount of accountability, no amount of mortification will change it, nor make it right. It's a bloody canvas with too many strokes dirtying it. I am, more than I've ever been, sure about catching the bus. My only buffer is to tidy everything up, give away my books, my belongings, make amends with people if I can, expose my crimes to the world, let my loved ones find a safe space as our relationship fades, and to have my pet rabbits go to a beautiful home, where they'll be treated nicely. It may not happen today, nor this week, but it will happen in the future, and nothing can make it budge. I am a monster, and I admit defeat. This is not the time for compassion, nor is it the time to continue being a parasite on this Earth. My death is how I will repay the pain I've caused, and it will be a service.
Right now, I am on a fast, and smoking cigs after cigs while drinking coffee to prevent myself from self-harming, and to focus on my shift at my desk job. I do not wish to eat, and will not. There is no exit but this one, and there is no future I contemplate. I have squandered my chances one too many times.
Forgive me.
I am fortunate enough to have a caring boyfriend, a man who is brilliant, mature, kind, and who firmly holds me responsible when I've messed up. He does not shy away from pointing my flaws and errors. I also have a close friend, who is like a brother. To remember the person I am hurts too much, and I can only see myself poison their lives from how damaged I am. My alcoholism has destroyed what was left of my soul, and my hamartia was having let a former relationship fester, and to never, ever, have been brave, adult enough to face the music. This is the end for me. I no longer have dreams of being a writer, an artist, of helping people, of being a kind person. No matter what happens, this is the person I am, and no amount of accountability, no amount of mortification will change it, nor make it right. It's a bloody canvas with too many strokes dirtying it. I am, more than I've ever been, sure about catching the bus. My only buffer is to tidy everything up, give away my books, my belongings, make amends with people if I can, expose my crimes to the world, let my loved ones find a safe space as our relationship fades, and to have my pet rabbits go to a beautiful home, where they'll be treated nicely. It may not happen today, nor this week, but it will happen in the future, and nothing can make it budge. I am a monster, and I admit defeat. This is not the time for compassion, nor is it the time to continue being a parasite on this Earth. My death is how I will repay the pain I've caused, and it will be a service.
Right now, I am on a fast, and smoking cigs after cigs while drinking coffee to prevent myself from self-harming, and to focus on my shift at my desk job. I do not wish to eat, and will not. There is no exit but this one, and there is no future I contemplate. I have squandered my chances one too many times.
Forgive me.
