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Stop feeling sorry!

How to explain? “Yes, I understand. I do. I just can’t communicate what I understand. In any language.” What a bullshit that is! And I’m so very full of it. I have to move on, have to stop feeling sorry for myself.

The world is not obligated to understand. I’m not supposed to await understanding. What a ridicules expectation!

Knowing I shall not expect – and tricking myself to stop expecting: two different things.

Very different.

I want to create.
And I want to be liked.
= That does not fit.

I can’t be creative on my own. I can’t be creative (and cannot breathe) while being looked at with disregard.

I’m so desperate to join in, and cursed to fail. Include me into a group and it will end in exclusion. You can count on it. Either I’m too alien, or I’m trying too hard.

People I’m fond of don’t greet me back anymore.

And I can’t grasp why. I’m used for this to happen. It’s no new thing. In a way, confusion has become a friend. It’s always there.

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I don’t understand. All the time I don’t. What did they say? Did I answer gibberish?

What to do? How to connect? Sitting still, being silent, and wearing grey – that hasn’t worked for 19 years. I’m trying colors now and I talk and I ask and I try to catch up. What else to do?

How to overcome ones urge to join in? Into a conversation, a seminar, a party… I know right from the beginning that I will not succeed. But I’ll try anyway. I tell myself: At least I find out in what specific way it’ll not work this time. I’m collecting approaches how to do it wrong. They can’t be endless in their numbers. Can’t they?

I love people. And challenges. They get me high. My drugs. Shall I stop taking them?

When I have my big downs, when I lay in bed for 17 hours a day, when I want to kill the telephone, smash it into the wall… when I hate all those people who dare to write me emails… Then I seriously think about getting sober. No people anymore. For good. It’ll be fine.

Of course it will not.

So I get up, put on my artificial face to hide the lines and the colorlessness and the dying skin. And I go outside and pretend to be healthy; I make myself visible. And many times it works. I start feeling, I start wanting, I get hungry for life. Exercise is good, it certainly helps. Until it all falls down again. And I have no power to overcome this cycle. It will come, it will go. No matter the circumstances. I’ll get high, I’ll get down. March is downtime, June is downtime, December is downtime. That’s sums it up.

What will I lose when I start take medications?

Text: Marianne Jaffke, www.originalmaja.de