Zee Blog

Sunday Blues

I hate when I get depressed. You wouldn't think it with how easily I do get depressed though. It's been a rough couple of weeks and things just seem to grow a bit worse here and there. The sad thing is, it's not even for reasons I should normally become upset.

For instance, my friend Jinx is now beginning to date our mutual friend AJ. I'm incredibly happy for her because AJ is probbaly the only truly nice guy she has been with. Yet, I sit here alone.

I'm honestly not sure if I would even be ready for a relationship right now. The way my last three year relationship ended last year and how things went on between Jinx and I leave me uncertain at best. I feel really worthless is the best way to sum it up.

Marne opened me up pretty well and I've never been able to close the wound. She left me feeling worthless, not even worthwhile. Everything that has happened in the past few days with Sheryl and them just pings against what Marne opened.

I've been so afraid lately. Incredibly afraid, for a very long time. In the past few years everything I considered to be my rock has in one way or the other drifted away from me. A lot of the times it's my inability to openly express how I feel. For instance: I loved Marne to death, more than I could ever put into words, but I feared what I had caused in the past and those that still looked down upon me for it, or who I at least thought looked down upon me for it.

In a lot of my writing, not all of which is here in Writing.com, I seem to be fixated on this idea that inside of me there is this little three year old, shunned and crying quietly, left alone and desiring nothing more than someone to come with a big smile to pick him up and hug him and tell him it's okay. I never got that from my parents. My mom is a raging drunk and my dad is the stereotypical military hard ass.

The few women I've been lucky to have in my life I almost look up to as a mother figure. I often enjoy leaning on them, and eventally I lean too much. I search for that one person to guide me and show me compassion and I'm just at a point in my life where I'll never get that.

I know I'm sitting here on my little soap box pouring out my emotions, the same emotions that probably hundreds, if not millions of people out there have endured so much worse. I think of that and belittle all that has happened, but is it so wrong for me to wish differently for myself?

I'm 22 years old and just the other day I had to sit and tell my mother I wasn't going to talk to her until she got back from her vacation in Chicago. I then had to follow up that discussion with a talk with my dad about our current position and if we want to move out of the house and get an apartment close to school for me. He's been bringing this up to me since I was like five.

I just hurt and ache all the time. It's like that feeling you get when you sob uncontrollably for an hour and the drained beat up aches you have afterwards. The only problem is I haven't even cried.

What I wouldn't give for a hug from someone I felt safe with.