A Rant to Vent

I don’t appreciate what you fucking did. You think you made me stronger? You think you made me braver?

No, I’ll tell you what you did. You fed my insecurities. You fucked with my emotions and you fucking hurt me in the process.

If there’s one good thing you did to help me, it’s teaching me that I need to listen to my doubts. My doubts are there as some sort of subliminal message that my conscious mind can’t comprehend.

I’m not a social person and guys don’t like me. I should know by now that feelings don’t get returned.

Do not toy with my emotions and do not lift up my hopes only to encourage me to go on and have them shattered. Especially do not ENCOURAGE me to do something that will later hurt me.

It does not make me stronger. It only makes me more insecure.

People scare me. They can hurt me even when I put up a wall of protection. They can especially hurt me when I let them in.

I do not tell people what I think or feel because once it’s out, I can’t take it back. Usually I lose a friend in the process.

That’s exactly what happened again.

So don’t tell me you’ve made me braver. You’ve made me more insecure. You burdened me with this pain. I’m tried of crying.

Sure, tears aren’t a sign of weakness, they’re a sign that you’ve been strong for too long. But maybe I’m tired of being strong, too. I don’t want to deal with you anymore. I don’t want to deal with people. I get criticized and hurt. Rarely do I get anything good out of it.

If I ask you a question, tell me the answer. Don’t tell me that you know the answer, but I need to talk to him to get it. He won’t talk to me now. You think that helps my social problems? My social fears? My social insecurities?

I try not to let them show, but you make it hard to keep them covered up. You made me do something that wasn’t me and you don’t have to suffer for it. I do. I get to see his face turn every time I’m in the room. I get to see how uncomfortable his posture is when he’s even near me. You don’t.

So don’t tell me you’ve made me stronger. I never wanted to be strong. That’s not to say I wanted to be safe, but I should have listened to myself.

I should have known by now that my intuition is pretty damn near right most of the time when it comes to people. I should have known myself better. Peer pressure got to me.

I’m not just hurt, I’m angry. You told me to jump off this bridge, and I listened to your silver tongue.

But you know what? I get angry easily. This I know. But I know more about myself than that. Once I’m angry, I don’t calm down very easily. That anger simmers until I simply explode. That explosion can be physical, it can turn on you, but most likely, it’ll crush me inside until I cry. All night. Non stop.

I don’t go up to other people and cry on their shoulders, either. I don’t burden other people with my pain. My problems. I deal with it by myself. I don’t let people near me. I close up. Until the storm passes over.

I’m tired of being angry. I’m angry all of the time. You just made it worse.

Don’t help me again. Because it doesn’t help, it just hurts.