Facade

31|| waking nightmare

song : Train Wreck - James Arthur
tw : mentions of rape, mentions of suicide, panic attacks

~ Alejandra ~

I have this little habit of acting on impulse.

There's a time and a place for everything, which is a fact that I learned young. Even before I was left to fend for myself.

Yet, something in my brain never clicked and I was never able to keep my mind in check. Things that I know are stupid, wrong, selfish or overall bad ideas are those that I encourage due to two emotions that I never learned to dull over the years.

Sadness and rage.

The two have always fucked with my head, allowing my judgement to be clouded for the time being until I did whatever stupid thing helped me to soften the edges.

It usually took boos or broken glass and knuckles for the emotions to subside. The mix of adrenaline and alcohol coursing through me made everything seem unreal.

If it wasn't real, it wouldn't hurt so much.

And if I'm being honest, I'm not sure how I lived so long with the way I let everything in me get so fucked up.

I've done everything.

I've had drunken sex with boys I didn't even know. I've gotten on the nerves of men who I knew wouldn't hesitate to pull the weapon they kept tucked behind their waistband and leave my lifeless body behind. I've gotten drunk on rooftops, on the sides of highways, in the middle of the city, convincing myself that everything was great.

Every time I do something when I feel like the emotions might kill me before my next out of control stunt, the voice of the man I hate most in the world rings through my mind.

Is it possible that maybe, somewhere inside you, you're hoping that whatever impulse you're acting on kills you before you get the chance to do it yourself?

The question is one I think about often, making the emotions I try everything in my power to erase that much more difficult to drown out.

Not only because it reminds me of him, but because I don't know the answer.

Do I want to die or do I want to stop living like this?

It's one of the most conflicting questions I've ever been burdened with because no matter which answer is picked, there's a weight that comes with it.

To long for death is sick, sad.

It holds the need for a type of care that I can't handle. A type of help that I could never accept.

To long for different life is haunting, hopeless.

It's a constant reminder of the life I've already been given. The unfairness of the cards I've already been dealt.

Choosing that requires a type of coping that I never seemed to figure out. An acceptance that I can't bring myself to bare.

So, instead of choosing, I learned to avoid the two.

I've spent my years constantly dancing along the ledge while waiting for the wind to sway me either which way.

To ignore or accept.

To live or die.

As I wait to fall on either side of solid ground, I managed to cope with the abnormalities that came with the consequences of my actions.

Most of them are abnormal because they were fueled by that rage and sadness that I usually chose to drown in Scotch. So, I typically had no immediate memory of what I did to end up where I do.