Normally when I say crying I mean that tears were coming out of my eyes and trickling down my cheeks. But today it was the kind with not only the tears, but those awful noises and the red face and the runny nose and the curling in on myself until I couldn't anymore.
Johnna came over and we talked about stuff. Feelings. You know. And eventually we got to a point that I write about but I never actually talk about to anyone. I'll write about it again today.
I feel like there is something terribly wrong with me. Something everyone else can see and I can't see it. This thing makes it easy for people to just completely stop talking to me and spending time with me and generally caring about me in any way whatsoever. They just disappear. And it's so easy for them because there is something about me that makes me not worth anything. And this thing that is wrong with me is also the reason no one wants to date me. No one. Not one person yet.
And people don't want to hurt my feelings and let me know what this horrible thing is, so they say things like: No, you're a great person Sarah Jo, they are all just stupid. One day it will happen and you'll see it was worth the wait. I don't know what's wrong with the boys, you are amazing and beautiful.
They say nice, nice things.
But experience has taught me the truth. There is something terribly, terribly wrong with me and no one will tell me what it is. I keep trying to fix things. What else can I do? I changed my whole life! I'm a stranger to myself sometimes and I keep working on being better. I want to be the best version of Sarah Jo I can possibly be. But it isn't good enough. I'm missing something. I'm broken. I'm flawed. I'm not worth loving.
Where is this one that is supposed to see the good in me? Where is he that will want me and only me forever? Where is the one that is strong and kind and smart and bold and silly enough to make me happy?
I said all of this with tissues pressed against my eyes, sitting with my legs folded on my bed, trying my best to bend into myself until I disappeared and it stopped hurting so much.
And I think it's ridiculous that I can survive living with drug addicts. I can handle not having electricity or running water. I've heard the violent screaming and things crashing against the walls. I once lived in a motel. I bailed my dad out of jail. I've seen my mother taken away in handcuffs. They steal from me. I got bolt locks on my bedroom door. I was morbidly obese and I lost over a hundred pounds by myself. I've lived with empty cabinets and roaches and mice and lice and trailers with no carpet. I know all the different people my parents can be depending on which drug they are on or what they are going without. I've hidden in my room in fear. I've screamed into my pillows in anger. All of it I did with a real and honest joy for life, everyday. So real that I felt it must seep out my pores in tangible waves and infect other people. So real that it felt like another presence inside my chest nearly lifting me from the ground.
And I think it's ridiculous that after all of that, loneliness is going to be the thing that finally breaks me.
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