Are You Happy Now…? (I’m Not.)

More often than not lately, I end up sitting here in my cave, at my desk, what is supposed to be my sanctuary from everyone and everything, in tears.  Crying over things that shouldn’t even fucking matter.  Things easily fixable, and yet to some people they are so broken and fucked up, that unless they beat me down into within an inch of me wanting to strangle myself, there is no way of fixing them.

No answer is good enough. 

I’m damned if I say yes, damned if I say no, and if I say nothing at all?  I’m wrong then too.

I’m always wrong. Always. Always. Always.

I feel as though I’m the personal punching bag for everyone else’s emotions, and if for one second, I lose that vice grip on my own, I’m instantly the villain in everyone else’s story.  I feel like my feelings don’t matter to anyone.  I could be sobbing, on the floor, pouring my heart out and it still wouldn’t fucking matter.  Not the people who matter to me at least.  Instead, I am expected to pretend like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde are not the same people but, they are.  And unless I’m willing to just “drop it” or “let it go” and pretend that nothing happened, again I’m wrong, or there’s something wrong with me and the fight continues.

I just don’t understand, I’m sitting here trying to level with you. I’m not shouting or raising my voice, I’m trying to stay neutral and not get emotional. I’m telling you what’s hurting me, and how it makes me feel, and why.  Isn’t that what people do when there’s a disagreement or an argument and they’re trying to make amends? 

Am I just wrong?  Always wrong.

Do people honestly brush everything under the rug until there is no more room to hide dirty little secreta and meaningless lies, and instead of looking at a tiny speck of dirt, you’re standing there face-to-face with a black hole?  Massive, endless, and impossible to get past?

Cold coffee in the morning isn’t a replacement for an apology.

You can’t just scream in my face or run away and tell me that I don’t have the right to scream back and feel some type of way about it.

Are you happy now?

I’m sitting here alone, again, crying because of you. I’m sitting here alone again, wishing I were somewhere else, anywhere else. Crying. Again.  This is becoming much too frequent.

Are you fucking happy now?

-S.N.L.