Trouble finding the words to say regarding the issues I face.

Anxious about creating this list.

World around me consumed by worry and fear.

Every second of every day.

Opposite of normal.

Puzzle pieces don’t fit.

Part of a sub-culture, but excluded by my own will.

Piercings, tattoos with radical points of view.

With a heart of gold and good intentions.

Shut out of it all.

Want to fit in.

Want to have dreams and aspirations.

But, even in wildest dreams I come up empty.

I’m good at nothing.


Deeply seeded fears of loss.

Of losing everyone.

I grasp tightly to the few I love.

My corner’s nearly empty.

Who will fight for me when they’re gone?

Unable to open up.

Invitations to others lost in the mail.

Letters unopened.

Circle remains empty.

No amount of will can prevent life from death.

Worry nonstop of their safety.

Every second of every day.

My loneliness is my security.

I hate being alone.

I hate being surrounded.

I have no thoughts and no stories.

I have no words to share.

I have nothing to tell.

Anxiety quelled by the quiet.

Long and lust after normalcy

I get older every moment.

But with each tick of a clock

I waste away

Such a curious case.

I awake each morning

Determined to make a change.

But then count the hours ’til the eve’

I’d rather see a dreamscape than a sun set.

Do not like the person I am.

I would not be my friend.

Why would they?

Boring.Uneducated.Unoriginal.Banal.No Creativity.Jobless.Aimless.Lacking Ambition or Goals.Awkward.Selfish.Stubborn.Ugly.Unromantic.Asexual.SelfConscious.Preoccupied.Lazy.Negative.Immature.Manipulative.

Self Image is shit.

I shirk away from my reflection.

Lights off. Still too bright. See too much.

No faith in myself. No faith in a god.

Bury myself in the grotesque and macabre.

Self-branded as a bad partner.

Perception becomes reality.

Disappointment is constant.

Past, present and future stigma of failed attempts

The stench of sweat and spilled spirits swirls through the air.

Unrecognizable in such a state.

Buzzed, blitzed and blurry.

Eyes closed and running away from reality.

Pass the time. Pass the wine.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Rinse. Repeat.

Blackout. Pass Out.

Forgive. Forget. Forgive again.

Swear it off. Never do it again.

Stop. Start.

No feet forward. 12 steps back.

Shame is the game.

Rock the Scarlet A.

Embrace it. Past embarrassment.

Blame it on the alcohol.

My biggest accomplishment

My biggest failure.

Alcoholism. Abstinence.

Quieting an addiction

That should have never began

Everyone around is a master at their craft.

I was a master at avoiding life.

A master at being drunk.

A master at being no one.

Everyone lives out their lives

Everyone falls in line

Doing what society dictates


I have the most fun when holed up in the darkness of my house

shades drawn, no light but the glow of the TV.

Volume up to block out the noises in my head.

And the silence of an empty shell.

This is my padded coffin. My living death.

I curl up in my girlfriend’s arms.

I feel her warmth.  Her love.

But, no words shared.

Doing laundry. Throwing a baseball with my Dad.  Walking the dog. Sitting in a waiting room. Paying for groceries.  Refilling a drink at a soda fountain.  Using the phone. Reading emails.  Talking with my sister. Being one on one with anyone–friend, family, stranger.

Almost all too much to bear.

Now I’m thinking of bears.  That also makes me anxious.


I work myself into a frenzy.  Stress strikes swiftly.

Instead of pushing through, I abandon ship.

One of the crazier aspects of my crazy…

Is the focus I place upon death.

Not mine necessarily.

I find myself fascinated by the facts of car wrecks, murders, injuries, illnesses, etc.

It’s not that I am a dark and twisted individual.

No, my purpose behind this is less sinister, but more about my own survival.

I am merely focused on preparing myself for inevitability.

I do not like walking into situations blindly.

If I am in a car wreck.  I want to know details of what will happen.

I want to know what a car wreck victim looks like.

If I am to be murdered.  I want to be comfortable with that.

If I am to be involved in a less than ideal situation.

I need to be able to address it with no element of surprise.

I need comfort.

This doesn’t quell fears.

I do not seek death.  I fear it.

Always afraid:

Slip in the shower.Fall down the stairs.Escalator/Elevator malfunctions.Parasites and Maladies. Never do anything right.Judged by others: cooking, cleaning, don’t like me.Meg will find someone else.Meg won’t come home.Car Wrecks. Random shootings.Natural Disasters.Airplane Crashing into me.Airplane crashing into house.Creatures in the lake. Dead Bodies.Breaking rules. Rats in the grass. Roaches. Germs.Bad news.Doctor results.Criticism.Not learning things fast enough.Judgment.

Do all I can to please people.

Do all I can to make people forgive my flaws and failures.

Desperate for approval.


Aim for Perfection.

Strive for Satisfaction.

Falling short. Falling fast.

Fail to even try.

Deep Depression.

Self conscious about my lack of skill set.

Self conscious about my lack of knowledge in everything.

There isn’t a single area that I’m comfortable with intellectually.

Grammar(!!!), Math (!!!!), Reading, Writing, Creativity, Drawing, Leadership, Test Taking, Politics, Current Events, etc.

Always think I am wrong–even when I’m right.

Always do what others want me to do rather than what I want.

Opinions sway me into submission outwardly and inwardly

In school–I would fear finals on the first day of lecture.

The syllabus alone could lead to a dropped class.

Have never allowed someone to read/edit something “in progress.”

Criticism is my BIGGEST fear.

Disappointing people  has become a full-time job.

Not confident enough to work serving fast food.

Not smart or capable enough to work at all.

Driving with others in the car is enough to drive me up a wall.

Wrought with worry with lives in my hand…

Directions in hand…

Panic stricken.

Wheel held tight.

White knuckles.

Filled with fright.

Rapid breathing.

What if What if What if

I used to be different.

Different, but the same.

I had friends.

I had a future.

Now I have neither.

Lost all of my past through no fault but my own.

Made plans and broke them off.

Never out of malice.

Never out of anger.

Never out of any reason but anxiety.

It’s been 2 years since I had a friend.

I’m disgusted by who I am.

Superficiality at the forefront of my revulsion.

Fat.Out of Shape.Scarred.Mutilated.Pocked. Disproportional.Blemished.

Can’t do anything without extremism.

Black or white.

What is gray?

Eat too much. Home all day. Bored. Unmotivated.

Afraid of the light.

Starve. Sleep all day. Weak. Incapable.

Want to work.  Can’t.

Love clothes.  Can’t wear ‘em.

Live in basketball shorts and t-shirts.

Hoping to be swallowed up and shapeless

Calorie in. Calorie out.

Count count count.

Count the calories.

Each and every one.

The only math I am good at.

Too chubby for fitted shirts.

Jeans just hug my thunder thighs.

My shape keeps me in hiding.

I have missed out on so much.

Because of this.

This body. This lack of control.

Being fat consumes me.

It dictates how I feel.

Who I am.

What I do.

Flab, Jiggle and and Rolls.

Perfection is not what I seek.

I have no option but to starve.


I cannot afford plastic surgery.

Who can?

How else can I reduce my chest?

I want to fit into clothes.

I want to be normal.

I want to be able to run, jump and swim.

I want to feel happy.

Just one aspect of my life to be OK.

I want to fit into a button-down shirt.

I want to fit into a bra.

I just want to not be me.

No insurance. No degree. No job.

No happiness.

I hinder rather than help.

Wanted to assist my parent’s with rental home renovations.

Afraid to mess up. Impatient. Unable to follow directions.

Short term memory fails.

What was I talking about again?

My scars embarrass me.

I forget they exist sometimes.  They’ve become part of me.  In the same way that tattoos are eventually seen as part of ones’ skin.

I go on without a hint of awareness

I think they are invisible to the world around me.

Until they are pointed out.

Until I am questioned.

Until the honest or young latch on and pry.

I’ll never wear a swimsuit again.

Can’t fit in the tops.  Can’t mask the scars.

I miss swimming.

Something so small, but significant.

I wish that I could understand “grown up” issues.

Tasks that are considered imperative to living an adult life baffle me.

I have no experience with dealing with politics, responsibilities, cars, rent, bills, etc.

I’ve relied on others.

I cannot rely on myself.

For any of this.

For all of this.

I want to enjoy life.

I want to enjoy: being outside.going to

I love my girlfriend.

I love my family.

But, sometimes I dread seeing them.


Let me rephrase that.

I long to see them.  I crave it.

I anticipate it so much.

So much that I end up dreading it.

I overanalyze.

I overhype.

And then fret about what to say.

I have no life to discuss.

I rack my brain for topics.

I look ugly.

I look fat.

I seem stupid.

Do they think I’m drunk?

Do they not want me there?

Do they even like me?

Why should they?

Do they just feel sorry for me?

Do they wish I wasn’t here?

I lose myself in the films I watch.

I am jealous of the characters.

I am jealous of their fake lives.

I wish I could be like them.

I want a career.

I want friends.

Too stupid.

Too scared.

Too anti-social.

No ability to tackle or approach situations.

Zero skills.  Zero positive traits.

Well, almost zero.

I can list a few.

-Eye/Hand coordination is above average.

-Nice/Empathetic (to a fault)/Caring

-Love family

-Film knowledge

That’s it.


I have no hobbies.

I have interests, but impediments interfere.

Guilt overwhelms me.

Guilty for living when others die.

Others with fervor and verve.

Nothing more than waste.

Ennui. My mind melts.

Losing sensation.

Losing battle.

Beyond bored.

How can one not contemplate death

When they find it so difficult to grasp life?

And yet–all I want is to live and be.

I want to learn.

How can I learn what cannot be taught?

Other random anxieties I’m just thinking of.  Minor things.  Stupid things.

-Judged by therapists.  I do not feel I am telling them what they want to hear.  I interpret every utterance, every glance, every expression, every movement no matter how subtle… as negative.  I think I’m too crazy or too much of a lost cause for even them to deal with.

-I’m horrible at conveying what I’m thinking or feeling through the spoken word.

-I am completely incapable of telling stories or relaying anecdotes.  I stumble and trip over every syllable.

-I second guess myself even if what I’m saying is a complete stone cold fact.

-I worry that my niece doesn’t like me, won’t remember me, or would be better off without me (negative influence: gay, unemployed, drop-out, cutter, alcoholic, unintelligent, etc.)

-I loathe saying no to people.  I would avoid being around someone completely–just to avoid this.

-Feelings get hurt if I recommend a movie to someone and they don’t like it.

-Get jealous over almost everything–even if it makes absolutely no sense.  It never makes sense.  I have a brain that makes no sense.

If I think of more.  I’ll be sure to make amendments here.

Pockets filled


About littlelostsunny

Lost inside her mind. Inspired to blog because if not the thoughts start to control my life. I needed an outlet.

Posted on November 15, 2012, in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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