Dear Self, The end.

The ending letter of my autophobia.

Dear self,
I'm sorry, okay?

I'm so incredibly sorry i've put you here again,
I'm sorry i sad those things that threw you into the dark abyss that we call panic, that make you sit on the bathroom floor just waiting for your body to throw up your organs, hoping maybe you can throw up all your thoughts and negativity.  That when you're done you'll be cleansed, but that's just not going to work. It's not realistic. And it doesn't make him or anyone else particularly happy.

Most of the things i say to you aren't true, i don't think so... but i'm not sure, but how could i be? It's up to you to not make them true. And we'll work on that together, and he'll help us to. Note to self, when you get through this, say thank you to him and everyone else. A lot.

When i look back on it there are a million and one goals i set for you that you could just never get. I wouldn't help you and i didn't let you. All the times i pushed you into the dirt thinking i was just saving you from the inevitable. Maybe you wouldn't have been so acquainted with the fair soil of the earth if it wasn't for me. Maybe people wouldn't have pushed you, possibly i was just a little paranoid. I know i did and said things that eventually made you want to feel dead. Made you want to be dead. And i know between me and you all those petty attempts were just cries for help. It's too bad no one ever noticed. But we're over that. We're better.

I can't count all the times you slept for twenty hours of the day and would just keep going. Thinking maybe if you slept enough your body would just get it and stop waking up. But you kept waking up with your school alarm beeping, not the alarm you wanted to hear, i know. That punishment was cruel but not so unusual.

I'm sorry I run razors through your innocent mind,
and now you have to hide and feel so afraid all the time. You don't want to think. You don't want to speak. You don't want people to know how horrible you are, but that's what you get for being so damn sad all the time.

Maybe the truth is, you're not so bad. Maybe you can get through this. That would be exciting. To live your life in happiness and realize that people don't all lie. When people say they love you or look up to you or that you're amazing, maybe it's not just a feel good sentence.

A couple weeks ago you would have ended this with something like "Maybe, but probably not" and i know as you're rereading this over and over in your times of weakness that sentence is running through your head. Along with:

If you were better,
People would care if,
If you could just force yourself to,
This wouldn't be happening if,
Why can't I,
I'll try harder,

And a hundred more.

But maybe it's time to stop focusing on what you can always force yourself to do and time to focus on relaxing and on what you DO have. How ARE you good? If you're reading this you probably have absolutely no way to answer that question. "uh... i'm not crippled?"  Well, even i don't want to name somethings because it just goes against everything i believe in, but the point of this letter is to get over that. Just think of all the compliments you get daily, you must be SOMEWHAT attractive, right? Not EVERYONE could be blind but you. It just wouldn't make sense. And you have talent, you can write and draw and sew and make things out of clay, you can compose music, you can do so much that others can't. And you're much more patient than some people, you're still living with your mother, right?

And then we come to him.
How could he POSSIBLY love you? How could anyone love you? You're such a horrible person, right? That's all you can think, you wonder if he doesn't pay attention and can't see all the awful that surrounds you, if he knew you as well as you knew you, he wouldn't, he couldn't. But maybe that's just not it, maybe he knows you as well as you but wants to know more and knows that there is a not so sad girl inside of you? The one that laughs at everything and isn't too mature or too childlike.  He knows she's there but you just won't let him find her. And that's the beginning, i think. You have to calm down. He's not going anywhere. He wouldn't have lied to you for this long. Even Carrie or your mother didn't lie to you for that long. There would be a leak somewhere proving he didn't love you and you just want to find it. You thought that week with all the ex girlfriends was it. But it wasn't, i mean, he understood and helped you through it, right? You want to find this leak more than anything, not because you don't love him but just because you can't trust your self to let yourself be loved and not ruin it. To have someone love you as you love them has always been your dream.  You have it. Accept it. He's told you before so many times, the fear of him leaving is what's going to make him leave. So stop it.

We'll get there.

Autophobia: An abnormal and persistent fear of loneliness, of being alone. A fear of solitude. Sufferers from autophobia may experience anxiety even though they realize that being alone does not threaten their well-being. They may worry about being ignored and unloved, or they may worry about intruders, strange noises or the possibility of developing a medical problem.
Autophobia also has another sense, that of an irrational fear of oneself, intense self-fear that is groundless.

It's sad that someone who has never met you can know you so well. So let's work on not fitting this description. Okay?

Reviews

[Matthew Ian Herrawood W]

that was hard to read