“The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven..”
I think it should be said. I was half in love with Superman.
My heart hurts. My mind is racing. There’s a war being waged.
I try so hard to be good, to be nice. To be wanted. But in the end, who am I hurting? Myself. My inner child never received closure. She will never go away. She will always be lurking at the back of my mind, waiting for her rescuer, her Prince Charming, her father that was never there, her grandfather that abandoned her when she needed him the most.
I tire of hurting, tire of being at conflict with myself. Who sees the real me? No one. Because who could want someone so broken, so insecure, so unstable, so unreliable, selfish, self-centered, untrustworthy. Not the father that wasn’t there nor the grandfather that left or the mother who kept her love just out of reach.
I don’t know what to write. I don’t want to write.
I can never shut off my mind and like a vulture circling for prey, it always comes back to me. An easy meal, no doubt. Why is it that our mind always wander to the past at late night hours when everyone else is asleep? Why does it dredge up what hurts us the most, what we want to think about the least?
My 21st birthday is less than 24 hours away.
I’m scared. I can’t see this ending well.
I’m no good at “moving on”, “getting over” people, or “forgive and forget”. I don’t think I could ever forget Batman or Superman. I’m not sure what the existent of my relationship will be with Batman after my birthday celebration has ended. I can’t get over him with him in my life but not having him in my life hurts too much. We can’t get back together because we’ve tried to make it work, multiple times. I just get hurt more and more each time.
I miss my grandfather. I have a unhealthy and complicated relationship with my older brother and my dad was absent for most of my childhood. Safe to say, I don’t have a good relationship with any male in my life. I guess that’s bled into my sex life as well.
I always thought that some Prince Charming would come riding along on his white horse to rescue me from my demons. I thought that he was Batman. It turns out that Batman just kept them at bay, like a talisman. They’ve been waiting, waiting to consume, overwhelm, and devour.
Some part of me realizes that I’m unwell. That I’ve never quite managed to cope with my abuse. That I use this blog and my relationships to self-medicate. That’s the rational side that’s been losing ground more and more of late. I need to get help before I enter into any future relationships. I know that. But this. . . . need to be like everyone else, to not draw attention, cause conflict, or make a scene will overwhelm and convince me to not seek help.
How do you get over that? How do you get over being. . . . abused and betrayed by someone you trusted and looked up to as a father? How does that not influence your relationship with every male that cross your path? It does. I flinch when Batman raise his voice, panic when he shows any sign of being displeased with me, and seek his advice and instruction often. He often calls me a child and the truth is, I am. I am still a child. A part of me never grew up, its still stuck in the past reliving that hell. It’s still bitter with its mother and yet craves her acceptance and love. It still hungers for a positive male influence in its life. It still waits to be rescued. It is still in hell being tormented by it’s demons.
“Hell is empty and all the devils are here.”
― William Shakespeare