Anastasia's Closet

Tuesday, March 28, 2006

The nature of the human mind is fascinating - the way we selectively remember certain events, and the way that time has the capacity to change the way we remember how something happened, or more importantly, how something or someone made us feel . . . it is quite intriguing.
I am pondering this because I was about to type something relating to how I used to be this strong, self- confident woman, but truly, I do not think I ever was. I look back at different times in my life and think, "I was happy then," or "I was proud of myself then," or "I was handling everything so well." Reality? Memory and reality are not one and the same. Reality is that I was never strong - not when it came to myself. Reality would tell you that I have never been able to be proud of myself or feel self-confident. Reality is that in the last 7 years, or more, I have not changed very much. I have remained the same fatalistic, irritable bitch who has no patience..... I have persevered with this sense of being not good enough - I have continued to exist in this state of flux between being situationally happy but feeling the effects of the past and my mental state..... and being in general despair. Right now, thank God, it is the former state that I am in.... that state of being where I am grateful for the wonderful people/things in my life, but also very aware of the turmoil inside of me and my anger and frustration and dislike for so many other people and things in this world.
I want to get rid of the anger. I want to get rid of the sadness and the pain. I want to be a whole person and not feel like such a damn freak - what kind of person is afraid to share her emotions with the person she loves the most in the world? What kind of person thinks, at times, that her feelings are subordinate to everything else that is going on? Are they? maybe they are. maybe they aren't. Maybe I can't even think straight anymore.
I suppose that I am just so damn sick of myself that I can't imagine why anybody would want to put up with listening to all of it. do i hate myself that much? no - no. hate is such a strong word. i surely don't love myself, though. i am not sure i even like myself, and quite frankly, as I write this- i am pretty convinced that none of it makes a damn bit of difference. i am pretty sure that it does not fucking matter. ah, there it is - the fatalism. i know, i need to get over it, right? to an extent, yes, it is that easy. i shouldn't feel such anger. sometimes, i can't help it, and i need to recognize that it is there and give life to it, or it will just tear me up inside. and i start to wonder if it is me or the world that is really fucked up. both, yes- both. "ay, there's the rub...."
i can't fix the world, and i'm wondering how in the hell to fix me. . . "all the king's horses and all the king's men..... "