LustingforNightmares

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2013-10-11 17:23:51 (UTC)

Can't Control It

"In Other Words" by Ben Kweller

Another night slips away
In other words
I should say
There are no words
You should say
There are no words

Friday OCtober 11, 2013 6:24 PM


I know my parents are downstairs talking about me. It's my fault.

No "probably"s this time. I know it is.

I wish I had a way to control my anger. My voice just gets louder as my blood boils hotter. Do you know how it feels, feeling the anger itself injected like poison into your veins? Feeling your hands turn to fists and with every heartbeat, a stronger desire to slam those rolled up bones into a wall?

All they did was ask me to babysit, but I am scared because I can't even talk to people. I can't talk to little kids. I don't know how to reprimand them. It's responsibility for someone else when I can barely keep myself standing.

My mom said she'd do it with me but I didn't want that for some reason.. I can still feel the anger. It feels like a heart attack. It's hiding behind my ribs, making my heart ache.

I got angry. Nothing like before, just lots of yelling and fear. They started saying I was lying to Pat, because Pat tells them everything is fine. Everything IS fine. Jesus. I know the difference between depression and normalness. I feel it. Sure, my baseline mood has been slightly lower than usual, but that's not depression. Look, me and Pat already know I really need to work on facing my fears.

Being social, for one. I can't do it. It makes me cry because I am so afraid.

I don't want to be rejected again.

I don't want to be paranoid that everyone hates me secretly and thinks I'm hideous.

I don't want to be a leader.

Where do I go from here? Do I go downstairs, apologize for being angry, which is what I always do after a fight, or do I just stay up here in the dark?

I think I'm going to apologize. Not because I'm really sorry, but I want them to think I am mature. That I can handle myself. I think I should babysit, too. I am still crying. Why am I so afraid of two kids?

I am weak. I can't stand up for myself. Sometimes I think I'm strong, because I feel like I'm made of steel, but when it comes down to it, I'm just a wet noodle. I don't talk back until I'm ready to explode.

Oh... I just want to sleep.


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