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I've come to discover that of all things, this is my preferred method of coping...
Apathy
we lie best when we lie to ourselves. Have you ever heard that saying before?
After last time, I thought that mad was when I bit my tongue to keep from cussing at my mom to her face. I thought mad was pulling a sliding door off of its tracks just by ripping it open. I thought that mad was punching a piece of solid wood hard enough to bruise my hand to keep from shouting at her.
Now I know different.
Boundaries get pushed further out with every encounter. Now...mad is when I start cursing full out at my mom at the top of my lungs right to her face. Mad is when a red haze begins to cloud the edges of my sight. Mad is when I clench my fists hard enough to almost cut the skin of my palm with my fingernails to keep from punching my mom in the face.
That's mad.
But it's been a few days now and my outright rage has gone down to a high simmer. I can tell myself once more that I don't care; that it doesn't bother me.
I find that of all of the lies that I can tell to myself, of all the ways that I can engage in active denial, apathy is the one that works best. I can tell myself that my mom doesn't bug me, I can tell myself that Lauren no longer gets to me...and the thing is, it becomes true. I swear to you that it becomes perfectly true...that is, until the next time my mom pisses me off...or the next time I have to run into Lauren or mention of her...
I'm living in denial and the funny thing is that I know it. I'm fully aware of it. I know that I give a shit about a lot of things but I go through day to day life believing that it doesn't.
It doesn't work the other way around though...I can't just convince myself to be happy. It's sad, something's probably wrong, I know but I can't. I tried...I tried to make myself happy and force myself to be done with all of the bad feelings inside me by just...pretending that I was. For a time, I acted happy, even though it was really just a lie in order to try and convince myself that I could be.
That fell apart. I'm back where I started...or worse. Too many things are getting me down in rapid succession and I don't know how much longer I can deal with it all before I completely fall apart. I've already snapped...cussing at my mom and wanting SO BAD to punch her in the face? That's a new low for even me isn't it?
To live in the shadow...to live in a world of grey...there would be no lights there, just a few blurred glimmers here and there, some darker, shaded patches but predominantly grey.
There would be no more beautiful sunrises, this is true. No more living in a life where anything and everything is possible, and no more of the achingly clear summer skies of azure blue and silver clouds...but in the same respect, no more of the endless nights...no more lying awake at night wondering why things never go the way I imagined they would...no more feeling like shit over things that I don't understand, no more being hurt and if that's unavoidable, no more of this wallowing in despair.
Living in shadow...
Need to think some more...
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