You'd think knowing why would help. And I guess it does, in the long term sort of way, but not right now. I shouldn't have picked up that trendwhore rag. I shouldn't have read what you had to say about portland. because I hate the way you talk and it evokes a smell and it makes me hate myself. I don't like hating myself.
I hate talking to people, to anyone, because I hear about their lives and their problems and the answers seem so easy to me. "it's child abuse. you feel shitty because your mom used to yell at you." or "your dad left when you were small, so of course you feel like no one will love you. of course you don't think of it in those terms, because your mom would yell at you when you cried. so you just think, this depression comes from no where. and you never find a girl you can love."
usually I keep my mouth shut because I don't want to be one of those presumptuous people, a self-declared guru or shrink, but really it's because I am afraid of the backlash, of the dismissal, of the scorn in their voices.
sometimes I say something and get in a fight. that's how I lose friends. (and gain stronger ones)
haha, I cheered myself up.
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It's can feel dismissive when people simplify your life down into a simple equation. X + Y = Z. What a lot of people don't realize is X is equal to an insane whirlwind of tiny fragments like glass. Tiny little moments in one's life that chip away at things and form what they become. I think people who haven't experienced abuse do that because they want to help those they love, but can't understand. So they rummage through, try to reduce it down to the simplest answer, hoping this discovery will help heal the people they love. Not so simple.
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