Dissapating

I’m stuck inside an imploding volcano where anxiety and obsession cages me from living in the real world. 

I used to resent being this way, as I craved love and belonging.  I must have still had hope that I could feel differently if I only thought about myself differently.  I must have hoped for hope to be possible, but I was always cautiously optimistic.  I learned throughout time, that hope and optimism was like setting myself up too high after disappointment arrived.  Disappointment always arrived, and always will.  I began to realize that if I ever wanted to be ok, then I would have to stop wanting love and belonging.  I would have to adopt a new thing to want; isolation. 

Isolation from Self is both effective and counterproductive.  It provides me with no expectations from my life and from myself.  To completely be safe and secure in it though, I need to take it further and dissasociate completely from reality, and I currently struggle with this possibility because I don’t know if I am really that brave.  Through choice, I can have some form of control, yet to make the weaker choice would be to continue on the defeatist path that I am so familiar with.  Responsibility will go out the window, and I will finally find the final cage of the unfortunate in a facility somewhere…

I stand here at a crossroads while I write on this blog.  My life scares me and I believe if I could just escape this fatigue, then I could have the energy to go on living.  I feel the imploding volcano filing inward taking me with it in tiny incraments.  I feel so ugly.  I fear being outside incase I see people who are attractive.  I always feel I shrink to shorter than an inch tall, while being around them.  It’s not fair to them.  I don’t matter apparently, because I have no self worth anyway.  I am just a waste of space and air.  I have little to offer in some ways, yet I know I am loved by a few. I can’t give up, I am obligated to certain people to be here for them and to not hurt them.  But, the way I feel, helps me view “life” differently.  I see it as an addiction.  Humans strugle along like Salmon swimming upstream.  It’s a compulsion, we are driven by duty (well some of us), and several other aspects of the human condition.  What drives you?…

What has always driven me, has been self improvement.  With BDD, I can never be who I feel I am supposed to be, or want to be.  My desire to look the way I would rather look, compells me to fantasize, waste time and precious moments with loved ones in disconnection due to my own self absorbtion and continual guilt for everything I represent.  Although I understand that I am depressed, I am still able to stand outside of myself while being coldly annalytical, and survey the useless physical “me,” like a science experiment.  I want no part of my body.  I reject it regularly and am unaffected by physical pain.  What used to drive me was dreams of plastic surgery.  Those dreams are slowly fading, as the volcano continues to spin.  One day, I’ll be no more…

Ironically, as long as I have my insights and awarenesses, I have control and responsibility.  Perhaps some day, I will lose this also.  This is window’s view…

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