This morning I woke up and I had pulled up my shirt and had my hand on my belly. I fell asleep thinking about babies and watching pictures of tiny humans in the womb.
Every once in a while my hormones drive me crazy and I make a scene about how I deeply wish pregnancy and motherhood even though this goes against my normal wishes of keeping myself away from any single dream of having a baby because I've thought about this enough. My brain always agrees with me saying no but then my feelings get in the middle.
I get so affected by this sudden craving for pregnancy that I'm afraid one day I'll end up having a psychological pregnancy. I better bind my fallopian tubes as soon as possible so I don't make a stupid mistake during one of this baby-pregnancy-mommy complex attacks.
Nothing is half as bad when it actually happens but before the panic and the anxiety make it feel like hell. I am more afraid of feeling pain or fear than I'm afraid of pain and fear themselves. I attempt to be logical about everything and find a reason why I shouldn't do it, know the consequences and show myself it could be a bad idea, but then, as I said, even when I know I am right in saying 'no' after I realized it's not right, feelings get in the way. Fear, love and pain are hard for my thoughts to fight. I leave before I actually have to go because I rather not staying there and make the departure harder since it will happen eventually anyway, like my complex with wanting to kill myself before feeling, after 70 years, like I might as well have time to think about it and suddenly decide I want to live while I'm lying in my hospital bed, a week away from my own death.
I hate getting attached and I know it's wrong because it can't be good but I can't avoid doing it anyway as if I just couldn't listen to my brain. My feelings, those chemical reactions that come from hell aka somewhere inside my skull, control me completely and I hate it but the few times I got to numb them, the psychological emptiness of being a hollow human shell (quite empathetic for a hollow human shell) bores me to death. One way or another I will feel suicidal, either because of the overwhelming feelings or the lack of them. For me there is no healthy spot between feeling nothing and going nuts because of my feelings.
Despite of what other people think about me when they see me, I am quite sensitive. Not in the way you would say 'sensitive' for a dude, in that case you would assume I am talking about a guy who understands others feelings and stuff like that, but I am not a dude. I am sensitive in the way in which your skin is sensitive to external factors after a sunburn. I get affected by anything and I want to cry because of anything but I'm finding it harder to cry day after day. I'm running out of tears. I will immediately and strongly respond to anything unless it's a really bad, out of control thing. In those cases I bottle up my feelings but then they eventually explode inside of me.
I need attention because I don't care about myself and I need to feel like someone else does, even when I know they want other things and their attention goes to my boobs, not me, but, once again, my feelings are in the way and they don't give a shit. I cut, cry and pimp myself for attention like a crack whore does for drugs.
I've been starting to see blurry, I can't focus and my head hurts. I'll probably need glasses eventually before I have time to kill myself aged 30. Hah. Dammit.
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