No, I'm not okay, it's not okay, nothing is okay.....but that's okay

The pain is rooting into me, spreading like a cancer. Every part of me tied into it and being dragged down. It's hard to keep pretending I'm not falling apart or poetically spinning it to make it sound okay. Sadness is killing me. Be it literal or metaphoric, the destruction of my existence is in full progression and there's nobody left to turn to. Having tried multiple versions of myself, submissive, confident, big, small, an abundance of hair colors and clothing styles, social, antisocial, loving and withdrawn. I hate them all. There is no work to be done here, there is no exercise or therapeutic activity that can save me from this place I've fallen. And its so fucking lonely. I can't decipher reality anymore. Am I sad because you've shut me out, grown bored with me, and shoved me to the side? Is it the constant swing of being handed ALL of the love in overwhelming and illuminating abundance to being just another face in the room, invoking nothing inside of you. Or has my sadness, my pain, my loss of light to shine caused all of the love to give up on me. Searching over and over, cycling in and out only finding myself deeper and darker and sadder than i was the time before. Contemplating things we dare not speak aloud. Not for fear of being taken seriously but for fear of being laughed at. I want to reach out. I want to say "I'm not okay this time, this is not a drill", but the more I reach the further you pull away. The tighter I need held the looser your grip becomes. concerned and loving words from friends feel empty and forced, therapists aren't there when the cloud really moves in. Answers do not exist and my mind is on repeat SCREAMING over and over, "I'm so fucking sad it hurts, I'm so fucking sad it hurts!". Crying inside and spilling over to the outside at any moment I'm afforded the luxury of falling apart without inconveniencing anyone else. I just want to be held, like an inconsolable crying baby, but I can't ask to be held...because I would in fact feel like a needy, whiny, inconsolable, crying baby. Depression is lonely and anxiety is debilitating. But they're just words, diagnoses, categories to classify your pain. Naming it doesn't take it away, treating it doesn't leave you whole. Maybe some of us weren't meant to be "okay".

I wouldn't love me either

Redundant phrases and familiar fears fill me as i slip into a vortex of sadness and rage. Searching for an unrecognized scapegoat for the pain only to find myself alone in the room. my body vibrates with the electric frustration of life itself. Cold and uncomfortable I find no solace in anything that typically fills the void. I poured the wine but can't bring myself to drink, sat by the keyboard but struggled over the pointlessness of each word. Satiated only by flashes of something i repeatedly snuff out. I lash out like a child, helpless to express it all at once any other way. Frustrated and exhausted with the same old shit but still waiting longingly for the spark of perfection. There seems to be a solid reason why love is so frequently compared to a drug. What is often overlooked is the pain and withdraw when it's not available to you. The "off days" aren't just dull, they stab through every beautiful moment, tarnishing what previously shined. So tired and weak, I can barely see the point anymore. Scrutinizing over every tiny thing I do just knowing it's always wrong.  Maybe this is the end of my road. I've done all that I can do. every step I take from here on out will only lead the rest of them to the same disappointment. Where do you go when you've worn out every path. When you tried to be more fun, care about less, love better, look nicer....and in the end still feel like you've failed at them all. There is no road for me. Nobody left to turn to, nothing left to say. So tired but unable to sleep. It's these moments that seem to never end where i wish I could close my eyes and go back to a perfect moment that I just couldn't hold onto and stay. A place where i wouldn't disappoint anyone, not even myself. A place where that love isn't tarnished or bruised. Somewhere I feel alive, seen and needed. But my eyes always open and the truth is right there like a film coating them. As if filtering the whole world with a caption that says "why bother".