I let my mood dominate me too often. I let it slide around and wrap me up and slip its way into every thought and sentence and glare. I hate you can sometimes drowned out everything I want to be and everything I wanted to say. But here I am and I’m screaming it. Do I want to be alone? It sure is easier that way though isn’t it?
Do I want to let my mood affect the way I love my kids? Do I want it to affect the way I love being a husband and dad? No. But it does. It always does. It inches its way into my fiber and makes me swell with paranoia. “Am I ruining you?” “Are you benefitting from my guidance?” “Am I the right one for you?” Thoughts of “why did you do that?” “why don’t you love me enough?” “why can’t you love me like I love you?” “I have no one except you.” “Love me better. Please.” I will always do that for you. And its never enough. That’s a me problem, nothing -and I do mean nothing- is ever (will ever be) enough for me. I am truly sorry. I’m not normal like the rest of you. I don’t handle it like the rest of you.
I spend my days wishing I had more and wanting less and less and less. Just wanting to disappear over and over so I can’t ever know anyone again. I spend the nights wondering why I didn’t do what I said I was going to do. Why I couldn’t follow through. Why I can’t make myself. Why I can’t motivate myself. You want me to show you just a little bit of my energy, but that energy is long gone on days when the clouds come out but who am I kidding? For me that can be any day. I hope you don’t get this too. I really do.
I don’t know where I’m going, and I wish I could forget where I’ve been but sometimes its so good to know what I could have been and didn’t end up that way. Or did I? When my kids want to play, and my mind is too exhausted to make my brain tell my arms and legs to move. When my wife wants to hold my hand and I hate how it feels to touch another human. The way it burns my skin because I don’t think she loves me equally enough. The way it just burns and stings to feel a person try to love me. I know they’ll let me down. When my three best friends are all under ten and I can’t relate to anyone enough to teach them how to relate enough to make it. The way I want to be honest and hidden all at once. I hate it all. And then sometimes that isn’t enough.
I am no where near where I should be. I am no one near who I should be. I am a blinking cursor on a screen with too much to say.