Why I don't care anymore

Love isn't supposed to come easy, especially not when you fall in love with a broken person. You've gotta be careful not to hurt them, to not cause them more pain and confusion cause you're a clumsy idiot who doesn't know at all how to handle other people and delicate situations.

Ugh, love makes me feel sick. But I don't wish I didn't love him, he needs that love, and I need it just to have a reason to stay alive. But it's killing me. It's been slowly killing me for 18 months even though I have gotten used to it by now. I can't even imagine not being in love with him.

It's become such a huge part of who I am now. I have become external reasons. Love, mental instability and headaches. That's what I am, that's what's left of me. No actual personality, just those three components in various doses throughout the day. I wouldn't exist without those three, I would be an empty shell.

I don't know who I am anymore, cause there's nothing left of me to be. I've been consumed, erased, replaced. Now tumblr posts, cigarettes and self destruction shape me throughout the day. I don't know any other way to live. Now I just exist and breathe automatically.

Am I sad? I don't know the answer to that question, but I know that I'm not happy. And I know that I never will be. And for the moment, I'm fine with that. I don't care. I don't think life was supposed to be fun, it was supposed to be a lesson. Something you learn and grow from. And now I know that I can probably survive just about anything.

Is that dangerous? I don't think I'm invincible, hardly, I really don't think I am that anymore. But I know that I can endure a lot. Probably most people can, they just don't think that they can, cause they've never been so close to the edge as I have. And for so many times.

I've learned a lot during 2013 and 2014, that I'm much stronger than I ever thought before. But I don't smile about that, cause I know what that means. It means that more shit will come and keep coming and I will learn new tactics in basic survival that will sooner or later ironically be the ones to kill me before the shit does. Cause my survival tactics are far more dangerous than what I feel threatened by.

I'm not even sure what it is that I feel threatened by. Vague and mysterious feelings and thoughts, mostly. It's all inside my head. Although there have been a few, easily counted, external things that have threatened me in my life up until today, most of it has been and is internal.

There's been some bullying, eviction, sexual assault, money problems. A few things like that but most of it, probably above 99% of everything, can probably be lumped up into the single, vary vague and complicated word: anxiety.

Everything causes anxiety but I don't even know what that word means. I don't even know if it's the right word for it. It's anxiety that is my biggest enemy and I fight it with every weapon that I have, ultimately leading me to nothing but self destruction. I'm destroying myself and my own life, so no matter how or when I die, I believe it will be my my fault either way. Cause I took myself there.

There is no end to self destruction. Maybe the cycle technically can be broken, but I don't believe in the possibility. I don't think I'll ever be ready to even give it a try. I've given up on ever living a decent life. Not because I want to die, but because recovering is too damn hard, requires too much work and I don't care anymore.

I've never known any other way of life. I only still go to see my shrink and other doctors for emotional support, pills to keep me above the surface, someone's figurative hand to hold while I walk through the fire that is my life while I continue to deteriorate.

I don't wish to find other tactics than self destruction, I don't wish to find any better methods, and I certainly don't want to learn how to deal with anxiety without fighting it. I know that now but somehow I've always known it. I wouldn't know who I am without the anxiety, it's such a big part of me. I'm like 90% anxiety and I would even go as far as to say that it scares me to know what I would be without it.

Cause maybe I would be terribly bored and boring? A simple human being without character? I'd rather be a mess than that. Sometimes I even think that I want to be a mess, that I like who I am with the mess included. Of course though, it frustrates me a lot from time to time how incredibly disabled I am thanks to it. There's so much that I can never do. I can't travel how I please, I can't afford anything worthwhile, I'm technically trapped in this apartment with very limited moving abilities.

It's like I'm in an invisible, mental wheelchair. I can walk, take the bus or even jump on a plane if I want to. But it takes a lot of planning, money I personally don't have, and a lot of effort. I don't function very well in any social settings, and you could almost say that my disability is anxiety. It's simple, cause it explains everything and not a daft at the same time. Disabled by anxiety? Yes... it can have quite some crippling effects on you in the long run.

But of course that wouldn't suffice for a full answer. I've got my headaches too, I've got a whole range of mental problems that I don't care to list right now. And I believe that is why I've given up on trying to get better, because all it does is getting worse and more complicated. In new ways that I didn't expect before. And I've become quite laid back about it now. I won't say this out too loud, in case it comes up and bites me in the ass, but I don't think that anything can surprise me anymore.