Because You Resent Me

You resent me. It could be for many different reasons, but you do.

You hate me. You hate what I don’t bring to the table. What I lack. You hate that I’ve chosen to just try to take the time to fix the things in my life that aren’t right in my own way and in my own time.

You want happiness for me as long as it’s done on a straight forward path. No bumps, no bruises, and no messiness. The truth however is that I’m imperfect. Some could say I’m a disgrace. I’m just something completely unable to put every affair in order.

I have a few things in order, but none make me feel complete or whole on the inside. Time is moving quickly and I feel more behind than ever. I no longer have an identity and maybe the things that make me feel whole are not good long term but they make me feel that way.

From someone who use to have a little bit of everything such a short time ago well, I feel like I have nothing right now and I’m desperately trying to cling to some purpose.

Purpose, feeling useful, not a bother, nor a chore

And lately to the people around me I don’t identify to any of those things.

I’ve lied about how I feel about the process of trying to feel my age. When you continue to ask me, I’ll probably continue to lie. Somewhere along the line I’ve accidentally conditioned myself to say “I’m fine” I mean, haven’t we all? Isn’t vulnerability and the declining state of our mental well-being weak.

It would be wrong to say “I know. I know you don’t agree with this. I know you think I’m a stranger. I know you don’t know me anymore and these things do feel out of control but I need you all to back off so I can figure out what I feel.”

I need you all to know that very little brings me comfort these days and how every single person I encounter has how they feel about the state of my life written all over there face. Whether I address it or ignore it. It’s there. Every single day.

You think the human brain would be able to process that the repetition of the negative won’t cure the disease that’s corrupted my mind, but one mind can’t be responsible nor understand other.

Maybe that’s why I’m writing this all down.

Maybe, I’m just trying to get up and I’d like all of you to cheer for me like I cheer for everyone else.