My demons are the biggest self-loathing, soul-eating maggots on the planet. The thoughts they ingest in my head would make even the most stable person crumble and shake. Yet here I am still and here I still rise.

 

 

Today my maggots are feeding me all kinds of nasty garbage. Of course it centers all on the same theme of “I don’t belong here and I’m a failure”.

 

I don’t belong because people tend not to listen to me very often.  When they do listen to me, they here what they want and not what is actually being said by me. Even when I ask for certain people to perform a small task and it goes by the waste side, I can’t help feeling like I don’t matter and I don’t belong. I know, through the power of mind training, I can’t really be mad at someone for not doing what I ask. I’m not supposed to take it personally. Yet, I still can’t help taking it personally. I tend to think of myself as someone who doesn’t ask for much. However, that could be the problem. Maybe I do ask for too much and I just don’t see it.

 

When the maggots get full off of all the shit they eat and have placed all the pockets of it in my head, another little bug comes around trying to make daisies bloom. “Don’t worry,” says the bug, “they see and hear more then you think and love you even more”. But then the maggots catch wind of that stuff and come chopping all of that away.

 

I’m a failure. I can’t even write the words without tears coming out. It’s because in that statement is so much truth. However, that happy bug tends to remind me there is also great lies in that statement. Another maggot and bug riot occurs and I am left with a bruised head and a shattered soul.

 

In a small way, I want to just cash it all in. I know I can’t say THOSE words, but I just feel like I want to stop fighting. It’s that age-old question, if an emo girl cuts herself in a forrest, do the trees care? I feel like if I am not even a thought in the minds of the ones I care about, then why am I here? You mean to tell me I am supposed to fight for myself?

 

I can’t do that. I wasn’t made that way.

 

I know that the wrong people will read this and all hell will come loose. I almost didn’t want to publish this because of that fear. But then, I will not live my life in fear. I love whom I love and I feel as I feel. If I’m having a shitty day, then I am having one. I’m not in the position of offing myself (I am too damn curious and a bit afraid. My luck the day I off myself will be the day I get that call asking for help.)

 

I’m just having a shitty day brought on by too many maggots and not enough daisy planters.

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