Monster

Yeah, I'm going to push you. That's just the nature of my being. I believe all too strongly in the phrase "Too Good To Be True" and therefore I'm an insecure, immature, weak-willed, creep that never ever stop being a Pusher.

I don't appear crazy on the outside... I hardly even appear interesting in the slightest. People are deceived by how I am on the outside. By the time they see what's going on inside they're too far into all the crap that they would feel guilty to pull out immediately...

Some people do, however... The clever people that is. They can see the smoke and tell that the fire can't be far behind. They don't wait to undergo my stupid form of psychological testing. They run as far as they can before they're caught in the flames of my instability and far-reaching stupidity. 

When things are good, they're great... but that never lasts for too long. There's just always something- some kind of drama that I create for myself and of course for the poor, unsuspecting people around me. 

It is no surprise that I'm insane when I confess that I dwell and live most comfortably with pain. Physically and emotionally, I inflict pain on myself to push the people around. I test people constantly - waiting to see when the people who promise blindly that they'll stay will actually end up cracking and ultimately leaving with whatever sanity and patience they have remaining. I love pain- pain is my friend, you see. While most people have come and gone. I only have very few things close and dear to me that have remained with me despite the shakiness of my psyche: My unknowing family, a few brave friends, a God of glory and understanding... and finally, the Pain.

It is strange how I've come accustomed to the pain... but is completely within means of explanation. People pity the sad girl. Simple. I often feel that I get more love and attention when I'm sad and depressed or lonely or just not in a good and stable space. It's quite twisted that I therefore then welcome adversity with pleasure- knowing it may bring some shell of emotion back to me. People don't bother when they think you're okay... When they see that you're hurting or on the brink, people suddenly feel the urge to be there for you. Even God blesses the broken.

When people get close, I allow them in... And then I unravel. I'm suddenly much more of a monster than anyone would ever have thought and it hurts to know that I am perpetually like this. I'm a masochistic little monster who couldn't really be bothered to care any more. The truth is that the pain is tiring- I'm tired. I'm so, so tired of being broken and of risking friendships because of my obscene insecurity. 

Yet I savour the empty and aching pang in my chest - he pain that I'm a pain. 

...That I'm a masochistic monster who pushes beautiful souls away to guard the remains of her own.

--J.