wreck

Remember a couple weeks ago when I said this:

"And yet I am afraid that maybe I will be the one to hurt them- that maybe I have always been the one who has done the hurting. And I can try to blame it all on everyone else, but the reality is that I am the wreck. I'm the one who can't cope...with love."

Well, I was right.

It sucks so much to realize that you've inadvertently punched someone you care about repeatedly in the stomach. It appears that I hurt the people I care about whether I mean to or not. In the course of the last month, I've gone from thinking that I'm a pretty okay person to realizing that I am just pretty awful. I feel as though I spat out a bad taste and the wind flung it back in my face.

I've always been deeply afraid of people, but now I'm starting to fear myself as well. And silence is not golden. Silence is dangerous. I feel like all the time I've spent recently being positive about my life was just me pretending really hard. And if there's anything that infuriates me more, it's pretending. (That and being manipulated.)

Truth is, I don't know how to do this. I don't know what I'm doing. I'm a wreck. And I wreck things. I believe that life is a beautiful thing, but what a mess I tend to make of it. I'm not innocent of wrongdoing. I'm not the victim...I'm the victimizer. I've been blaming people for making me bleed when all along I've been the one holding the knife.