Deserve: to merit, be qualified for, or have a claim to (reward, assistance, punishment, etc.) because of actions, qualities, or situation
So was it my actions, my qualities or my situation that let it happen? That let them hurt me? If it's true that what goes around comes around, then I must have sent off some really nasty shit. Or maybe in a past life I force-fed kittens to a bunch of nuns and used them as rolling pins to run over some orphans. They say, "you don't deserve it". They say, "it's not your fault". If we are to accept that our conscience is what guides us along morality, why do I feel so dirty, so culpable, so...caught, if I'm not guilty? What if my conscience is wrong - can I ever trust it otherwise? And if my conscience is right?
"Admit it. Admit you love playing the victim and you can't get over shit." I let you see a part of me against my better judgement, a part of a part of me that was the first step to...some sort of trust. Trust that led to the proverbial "letting people in" they love to insist is integral to growth. They're right, of course, but they've only got one side of the coin. The flip side of it is you've shown them exactly where to stick the knife, how to twist it for maximum effect. And the sad part? You're right. I prove you right every day. And I know it, and something inside me always holds me back from...letting it go. Whatever "it" is. This thing that held me back from you, that holds me back from everyone else, holds me back from happiness. I don't know if I can let it go.
I...well, I don't know if I want to, I think. Because that would mean I can't, as you say, "play the victim" anymore. I wouldn't have the excuse any more. Suddenly the responsibility of my own happiness would fall squarely on my own shoulders. And I don't know if I can handle it. Handle finding out that some form of happiness isn't too hard, that I've been a melodramatic idiot all these years, that cliche of a girl who's been hurt and shuts herself off to any possibility of it happening again. Except, as in the earlier post, hurt is inevitable. So she sucks at life, basically. She's a fucking victim.
The point of writing this is that I feel...out of sync. Out of sync with what's happening around me. Like I'm always a few steps behind, or to the side. I'm reminded of those movies, where the subtitles are a few milliseconds out of sync, and somehow, no matter how many times you increase or decrease the delay, it's never quite right. And somehow it throws the whole movie off, so you disable the subtitles all together.
I sound depressed, and that too the worst kind of depressed, the pretentious kind...but I'm not. Depressed, I mean, because I could very well be pretentious. There is no great sadness in my life at the moment, nothing that's not stereotypical. I can smile, I can laugh, I can text, I can eat, I can work, I can study, I can write, I can obsess over fictional characters...but I can't do it in sync. Fair enough, I guess. I'll just have to keep hitting the X and Z keys, to see if I can hit that millisecond and hold on to it...and at the same time let go.
