Inadequacy amongst other things

I was talking with some random person I met while I was gallivanting across the interwebs the other night and it both concerned and disturbed me to see myself in this person. We discussed our experiences at length and the similarities overwhelmed me. Basically, this person is everything I am, or was. They have become deeply disturbed by their life thus far. They are where I was only a couple of years ago. They feel, so intensely, the grief of a perceived lack of care from family and friends and the despair and gravity of their medical problems - both mental and physical and it is utterly destroying them and robbing them of their capacity to live, in any sense of the word. So consumed by their own grief, I was unable to offer any words of comfort.

Even though I knew only too well how they felt. 

They had wandered so far down that dangerous and treacherous path that nothing I said, despite my wealth of knowledge garnered from similar experiences, was able to break through into the monotony of the dread of their thoughts. And I really felt for them. And they dragged me a little way down that path too. They insisted that the pain was too great. And I believed them. They told me that they didn't know what would happen after they died, but they had the sneaking suspicion that it would be a whole lot of nothingness. To this I said that I hoped it would not be a whole bunch of nothingness, else I would be severely disappointed. 

And I got a little bit worked up annoyed thinking about this. It's a horrible thing to think that all this struggling could amount to nothing. I have expressed previously my fear of taking my own life away. I am even more worried now that I realise, properly for the first time (if you can understand what I mean there), that there may  just be nothing after this. And it annoyed me to be able to look at my life and realise that it could all amount to nothing, and to be able to grasp the fact that I may have been born simply to die. 

That is certainly not what I wanted to be thinking about. I'm not even sure how I allowed myself to be dragged down that path. But I'm glad I was able to walk back up it swiftly as I know now better than ever, that it is the wandering down paths such as these that leave me in places of decay. Such places are the reason I'm as addled as I am and I try valiantly to stay away from them as much as I possibly can. Which, by now, you all know isn't always how things work out for me. But I do try. And have relished in the success I've achieved.

So I'm talking to this random person, who crossed my path purely by chance and here I am talking to a mirror of myself. Or, as I mentioned above, what I was. That was the most striking thing. This person was everything I was. It was not long ago that a wealth of experience greater than mine is now would not have penetrated my  darkest thoughts. I would have and did, on countless occasions, reject the advice and help of those around me. So much so that many people could no longer deal with me and as the years went by have let go of me altogether. As a consequence I have trouble telling you exactly who these people are, to be perfectly honest. Ejected from my mind for all eternity apparently, and probably a good thing to. I remember a few of the better people who've let me go, but largely I choose to let go and forget. It does not do to dwell on what I've lost, I don't think. I mourned one friendship for a long time, and it did me no good at all. 

I keep getting side tracked. I was talking to a mirror of myself. It was scary, to say the least. It was absolutely terrifying to see into this person and understand them. And then to realise that I was -- and probably still am to varying degrees -- this person. This person clouded in darkness who is hard pressed to hear, really hear, those around them, and take on board their advice and try to heal. The difference between me and them now is, that while I'm still shrouded in some darkness, I do hear people. I hear them clearly. And while I do not always agree with or follow their advice/suggestions and other associated things (forgot the word...), I most certainly hear them.

That and I have a desire to live. Else I would not be writing this.

And that desire to live lead me to make the monumental choice to push back Roaccutane another few months. After a lengthy reflection I realised that I was unable to give away my summer. As much as I hunger the death of my acne so that I can finally let go of that chapter of my life, I was not prepared to lose a summer in order to do so. I realised that this summer is my final chance to relax and gather myself for the gruelling year ahead and that I needed to be naughty, do silly things, go out in the sun and see my friends and the horses without fear of the Roaccutane imposed consequences. And so I announced my decision to the necessary people. I did also meet with the necessary psychiatrist so that he could evaluate my mental state to ensure it was proper to handle the more scarier side effects of this drug. He deemed that it was sufficient and it's all good to go, when I'm good and ready. However, I truly believe the biggest victory lies in the fact that I didn't bite his head off. But I think my lack of bite on this occasion was more that he was not really asking me to face my demons and kill them, or at least shackle them, but just to recount them so that he might be aware of their existence, less they lull me into a false sense of security that allows them to freely congregate throughout my mind once more while I lie unaware until it seems too late.

Though, waiting out the summer adds another two-three months of treatment time that I would already have done by the time the summer ended. And seeing as the acne will only get worse before it gets better, being those few months up might not have been such a bad thing. It's as loving as ever my acne. Rearing its ugly head at the most inopportune of times. Confidence shattering prick of a thing.

And my shattered confidence and self esteem only adds even more heavily to my discontentment when it comes to boys. I do genuinely perceive myself as ugly at times. Some days I see the beauty I'm promised is there, but I just as quickly lose it to the acne and ever present worrying (for no good reason, let me be the first to admit it) over my weight. My best friend and I have been spending increasing amounts of time together lately and I adore her company. We have fun. We both share that love of horses and racing that I don't get from my school friends and its been a godsend to be able to share these aspects of my life with her. I'm having a great deal of trouble bringing myself to admit to the next part of this discussion. I guess that I'm ashamed, on some level, to admit to it, own it, let its existence be known. 

Boys have started to become somewhat of an interest, if not a concern, more so recently than ever before. My best friend has been receiving copious amounts of attention from people I know lately, and its not only a sense of jealousy, its a feeling of complete and utter inadequacy. It even worries me that these people that we don't know very well -- who still knew me before her -- are chasing her. And chasing her again and again and again. And we laugh about it. Because boys can be silly. Some of these boys not thinking with their heads, have become easy to laugh at. She's more or less enjoying the attention. Copious amounts of attention. And I am receiving none. Jealousy and inadequacy. I can't tell you which I think is the stronger of the two emotions. Perhaps it doesn't even matter, the point is they're there. And they're causing some serious misgivings that are offsetting any peace I had attained in recent weeks. I'm jealous of the attention, yes, of course I am. But seeing people I've known for so much longer chase her... well. What am I supposed to think? Clearly, I am inadequate because I'm clearly not good enough. I realise I'm wandering down on of those treacherous and dangerous paths now, I can feel it. But I don't care to stop. It's not just the attention, but I sometimes feel like she's stealing some of my friends out from under me. Especially people I was once close to. And yes, I'm kind of hurt. And no, I would never be able to bring myself to say these things to her. And yes, I would be mortified if she stumbled across this particular blog.

I feel silly. I really do. But I just can't contain this jumble of feelings. It just irks me. I sound so petty, I know I do. But what else can I do? I only seem able to let depression's familiar grasp sink my old pal negativity back into my mind and push me gently down this path. 

Rightly or wrongly.

- Sky