Feeling sorry for myself just found out that someone that I keep inviting to come and visit is going to visit somebody else. I don't get a lot of visitors and honestly I'm torn between wanting to have visitors and wanting to be alone. The great paradox.
Trying not to make it into a statement/evidence of my inherent badness aka why would anyone want to visit me? Still, it's my default. Willing myself not to call someone and complain, that is, ask what is so awful about me that I rarely receive visitors. After all, I'm the one who moved so far away, it was my choice. I feel hurt though. This in my bones feeling of unworthiness, of unloved-ness.
Hey write a song about it!
What did I do?
To hurt you?
You say it's not about me
Why don't I believe?
I crawl further into my rancid skin and weep for the sorrow that is me.
Can I look into the void, won't it just show me the reflection?
Won't I be misled?
I don't feel close to fine (thank you I.G.).
Instead am clothed In a dipole, shocks and shards piercing , impaling, swirling within and without.
Little me cries
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