How was I wrong in all of this?

I felt insulted. It wasn't the first time. It is always hidden inside jokes. The subtle. The ones which were snide and ugly on the inside but corporate enough to be harmless looking on the outside.

I called it out. I made it known that I did not appreciate it. The mistake I made was not being staunch enough about it. I was apologetic about it. This was used to my advantage. This was used to pin it back on me. The conclusion that was derived from the discussion was that it was my incorrect assumption and overthinking.

Ya right, bro! I don't have enough of a spine to call it out. But I am not stupid enough to actually believe the manipulation, don't worry. I know what I said. I don't think  I put it incorrectly and with passage of time, I don't regret what I did, just that I didn't stand up enough for myself.

The best poem I have read in a while

 I am Google Maps and I am in therapy by @viplavwrites

"So... how are you feeling today?" 
the therapist asks, 
pen hovering over paper like it's waiting for me to crash again.

"I don't know,"
I say.
"I guess I'm lost. 
Ironic, I know. 
Or just burnt out from always knowing the way."
She nods.
I tell her about the pressure.
How I have to sound confident 
even when I know the road is flooded.
How I reign in my seething rage 
and keep rerouting 
for the ones who don't listen anyway.
How they blame me 
for the traffic, the potholes, the wrong turns.

I tell her
about the couple who broke up 
mid-commute.
I had to keep giving directions 
pretending like nothing happened 
while she cried in the passenger seat 
and he pretended like nothing was wrong.
I tell her about the time
I took someone to a 'Ring shop near me' 
and to the nearest pawn shop shortly after.

I can't find the courage to tell her 
about the guy who missed someone's last breath 
because he trusted my quickest route.
It still haunts me-
The loud smacks on the steering wheel 
and the silence that followed 
while I rambled on, 'your destination is on the left' 
like an insensitive prick.

I feel the weight of lies they tell.
About reaching in 5 
when we are still an hour away.
About heavy traffic
when it's blue all the way.
About knowing shortcuts
when they don't.
About being at the pickup point
when they aren't.

But not all days are bad.
I like it when they share
Live Locations with a loved one at midnight.
I like telling them their loved one is home.
I enjoy being ignored
when they take the longer route
after a date.
I love revisiting cafes, book stores and theatres 
almost ritualistically.

I tell her
I can't remember the last time someone
actually 'reached' a destination.
Everyone's in a rush 
to leave where they are.
No one knows where they're going (clearly).
Sometimes, I wish 
they'd just stay 
somewhere. 
Anywhere.

She writes something down.
Then says, 
"You're not broken. 
You're just exhausted 
from carrying too many people 
who can't carry themselves."
She may be right.
But I don't want to quit.
I just want someone to say
"We have arrived."
And mean it.

Waiting..

Waiting...

But for what?

For those three seconds of euphoria that will help justify every pain that you had to go through?

What happens after those three seconds?
What thoughts and realities strike us?
What responsibilities bound us and remind us of the chain that is tied to our ankles?

Are we ever going to be free?
What really is freedom?
If you bring about anarchy, will you be free or just ignorant of the needs of others?

When you are free, are you letting people down or shrugging off your responsibilities?

Written ages ago and  found while rummaging through my old laptop

I am and will forever remain "NOT GOOD ENOUGH"

You know what struck me today after losing another person that I hoped (but did I?) would turn out to be important...I always look to understand a person (obviously I am not without faults) and the other person always looks to match a checklist.

Sadly, I never quite stack up to their wishlist, quite literally and metaphorically. This is now the third time I wasn't tall enough for them. It is not like I can do something about it. I can understand why nobody would ever want a compromise like me.

I can understand why nobody would ever in their right mind choose me...I am short (since it has been previously used by people), I am weird, my head is a mess and I have a way of functioning that is frowned upon by society, mainly because it doesn't fit in a box.

I know it is all coming from a place of hurt and contrary to what I am writing, deep inside, all I would like anyone to show is even a fraction of care and affection that I show these people who either trivialise it or reject it outright. I long to be cared for the way I care. I long to feel like somebody would actually care for me, check in with me and hold space for me.

When I finished my undergrad, I had the simple excuse that I never tried, but now that I have finished masters, worked for a couple of years and been rejected from all avenues possible and nearly 30 it is a clear sign that I am unwanted and not worthy. Why would anyone bother over baggage that was rejected by everyone else? I wouldn't blame them...It just hurts.

I even think back to SB. I am in the position she was back then. I did show unconditional care back then and was still not good enough. 

Am I not worthy of something conditional even? A morsel? A trinket? Something? Anything? Anyone? Am I that bad a person? 

I guess if the data points to it, then it must be true.

Staring into the abyss and screaming into the void

Back at that dark place

Things have been pretty bad mentally these last few weeks and the shitty part is that I tell myself that I am not allowed to feel this given the insanely privileged position I am in. The weight of it all has been getting to me. People pleasing is draining me out. I am in a very bad headspace and the grind is slowly and surely withering me away.

The same thought whirling around and around: I am not worthy. Nobody could ever want me. I am just a burden. People tolerate me and it has never been the case that I have actively been chosen for what I am...they just happen to be compromising in the rare event that they decide to bother having me.

I am guessing that the heightened insecurity is because the avenues have closed down (online) and that last bit of hope has died. To gnaw at that scab, having a socially extroverted friend is draining and a constant reminder of all my insecurities: I am short, I am ugly, going bald, I am a failure, nobody likes me, I am annoying, I am narcissistic and make everything about me. It is not just a particular thing that is said, although a lot is said about me, but the fact that it is now a proven pattern and has even historical data to back it, going back over a decade.

To be fair, RC was never going to happen and it is my mistake to take attention for anything beyond. Am I that desperate? Should I want this less from another person? Do I not respect myself even 0.1% for me to not accept this morsel? Why do I do this to myself?

Why do I people please to the point where I am bending over backward, unwarrantedly, to the point I am setting expectations of reciprocation that the other person never agreed to or was even aware of? This is definitely my issue. I need to course correct. I need to recharge my soul.

It has been bad before and is bad now, but that doesn't mean that I cannot survive. Over time hopefully it gets better. My head stops being my enemy, but even if it doesn't, I hope I can get used to this feeling and learn to adapt.

Not all of us get what we want. At every juncture, I have never got the things I was originally aiming for. Most of the time eventually, I have been helped by a superior power to get to the place I needed to be. This sucks but I don't think I deserve anything more and am pretty lucky to even have gotten here.