Nothing wrong with me, you hounds

At times I’d love to take a pause from myself. Darn. It feels like I become an uncontrollable machine, I go berserk. Still I try to control myself, but is that fuckin’ right, or ain’t it? Shouldn’t I just allow myself to let it all flow and get the hell out of me? Florence and The Machine is singing in my ears, volume up and I just want to sing along, but that kind of singing that easily turns into screaming, screaming the hell out of me. I don’t do that, too bad, bad for me I’m afraid. Writing in english is a need. I want it. Even though I have a few sad memories that block me. Cumber me. And then I just have those fucking horrible feelings that run, flow inside me, run on the loose. They melt my brain and all I can feel is shame and pain, I just feel guilty and wrong. But there’s fucking nothing wrong about me. Nothing. I know this for sure. I would enjoy it so much, it would freaking entice me if my heart accepted this too. But it’s the case of those  irrational fears you bury deep down inside yourself, you think that will do, it will be ok. They’ll be forgotten, same as that jumanji game, but then, then. Something happens and the damn box de-freezes and opens. Pandora’s box. And I loose control. Ain’t this just all wrong? I would love to be able to reassure myself, to comfort me, and yet it just feels so tough an enemy, so hard to beat. I’m Sherlock beaten by Irene Adler, and she’s caressing my face with her whip. Know when you’re beaten, you baby girl. I simply refuse, I don’t want to feel this way, to be such an easy prey to people’s crappy behaviour. Again it’s them, not me. It’s not throwing somebody else my own problem, I repeat it, there’s nothing wrong with me. Made exception for all this sensitivity of mine. It should be a blessing, not a curse. It’s supposed to be so. Then why on earth can’t I leave all this awkwardness and sorrow out? I struggle all the time to keep myself afloat, to make my smiles match my state of mind and soul. I fear this is what drains my energy, the reason I keep feeling so worn out, like I’m climbing up on a mountain all day long. I’m young, and yet I feel just old. There’s so much I want to do, and I manage to handle just a third, a third when I’m lucky. But when I’m on a bad day I just get a shock and can’t stop myself, I can’t do anything else. I said it this morning: I want to be happy. If that’s a new year resolution, then how much harder than this should I work on it? Oh this is a tricky issue. I don’t want to talk about the single bits that are making me feeling like this and I hate when people mention it, carelessly. Why on earth should I even take the bother to talk about it more. It’s not the fact itself, what I feel is what matters. What fucking matters. I only care for that, it’s reasonable after all, you can’t ask more from me. No you don’t fucking have to. DON’T. I’m here blabblering about the fact I’m feeling damaged and wounded. I reckon I’m Precious (yes that’s Depeche Mode quote). God, if you helped me make this shit pass, oh I’d be so grateful. Helping me recover, get over it. Using my energies for much better purposes, wouldn’t that be ok?