Shatter

It’s funny you know, at how swiftly you can go from being relatively normal to the brink of shattering, to where you have to hold onto yourself so very very tight, tight enough that your teeth grind against each other and your bones squeak in protest, yet if you let go, if you relax, you’ll shatter. Shatter into a million teeny tiny pieces that will never be picked up again, put back together, because each shard is sharp enough to kill, sharp enough to die, sharp enough to hurt and not care.

I almost shattered last night, shattered into those teeny tiny pieces, shattered because...well... because I hate myself. I really do. I’m horrid. My boyfriend will now no doubt agree with me, I’m a dreadful heartless bitch. Too distant to be touched, too distant from reality to care about others. I don’t know. I ...I warned him. I told him, I don’t care easily, I cannot love. Not the way you would love, or anyone else for that matter. My ‘love’ is selfish, it’s simply really a desire to not be so alone. But then, I deserve to be alone. I deserve to be single all my life, a spinster, a hermit, someone that goes to work then comes home and immerses herself in the electronic banalities of society.

I don’t have friends. Not really. I have people I interact with on a routine basis. Those I talk to occasionally in/before/after class, the occasional chat I have while working, perhaps a talk with my mother, the brief interactions with the people online, but that is all. I don’t ...stress I suppose you could say, that I don’t have a clique of friends to spend the weekends with – I’m usually working anyways so it’s no big.

But...

Well. If -you- are the one that is initiating a break up, aren't -you- supposed to be not effected by it? I don't know. I've never.... I...

I really can't...I don't know. I'm shattering again, I can watch the fractures creep across the fragile inner me, creep creep ...spike...crack. Crawl across who I am like a disease, or the way that glass can crack into a million pieces just before it falls from the window. I'm ...afraid. Terrified. If I let myself shatter, if I ...stop desperately holding myself together, containing what I am, then my shattering will be fatal. And it scares me. It scares me so very very much.

If you had said to me, two days ago 'tomorrow you're going to try and dump your boyfriend and the day after see suicide looming as a very great possibility on the horizon' I would have laughed. I wouldn't have believed you. Two days ago, breaking up with him wasn't on my mind, I would have had a thousand other things hammering for attention -- movies to watch, books to read, or assignments to do which are still glaring at me in their unfinishedness. Suicide? yeah right, that was -last- year, I'm good this year. I've been to a counsellor, I'm 'fixed' or something.

But now ....


I can see it. I can see it through the fractures. If they fall, there won't be anything between me and ... I'm terrified to shatter, petrified. I don't want to shatter, I don't want to be nothing but depression and hate so I'm holding the flaws, holding the hate to me, holding it so tightly that my arms are aching, my teeth squeak against each other as I grind my jaw, my lungs are short of breath from the so tight grip I have on myself, that tight, fist hold that I need to have.

And already ....I know ...I can see ...I can't keep this iron grip forever. One day, something is going to knock me, nudge that fragile fracturing and all my careful grip has done was stave off the inevitable, and I'll shatter.

I'll shatter into a thousand, million, teeny tiny pieces of hurt, of hate, of self-loathing. One part of my mind is trying to deny this, deny that I'm so absolutely terrible, but it is a small part. A very small ...quiet...voice saying 'no no no, you're not. You're better!' and it's over powered by the voice that says 'you're a piece of worthless shit, you have no heart, you're heartless, empty and filled with a black, cold void of nothing. There is no light, no life, no love. You -deserve- to be hurting like this, you deserve to be hated, you deserve to be alone. You don't deserve him. You don't deserve anybody. It's only a matter of time until the world realises how very worthless and pathetic you are. You've done the deed, or at least he thinks so, and is hurting because of YOU. You don't want to hurt any body? Keep going like you are and you'll hurt EVERYBODY and they'll hate you. And you deserve it. You know you do. Because you're just a worthless piece of shit, a fat, stupid, pathetic piece of shit. You didn't even THINK of giving him a call to break up, rather than doing it over an IM, you piece of shit, you piece of fucking shit, you're the dirt -beneath- the shit, not even worth that much. Fucker. Deal with the fucking consequences you idiot, you fucking worthless pile of emptiness. You don't deserve any body. You don't deserve to be comforted -- after all, you brought this on yourself. He didn't initiate it, -you- did, so deal with the consequences of being worthless, of less than a fucking piece of shit.'

And that little, tiny voice is getting quieter 'no no no, you're not, you're better!' so quiet that I have to strain to hear it ...while the other is louder, getting louder all the time. 'YOU FUCKING PIECE OF WORTHLESS SHIT. YOU DON'T DESERVE ANYTHING, DO YOU? YEAH, YOU AGREE WITH ME YOU PIECE OF SHIT'

'no no, you're better!'

Piece of fucking shit. Stop your fucking crying you worthless whore, think anybody cares? YOU DID THIS. You don't deserve anything. You deserve to be alone.

No no, you deserve more, everyone deserves someone to hold them...

PIECE OF FUCKING SHIT. YOU DON'T DESERVE ANYONE, DESERVE TO BE ALONE, LONELY, HATED AND HATING AND HURTING. AND YOU FUCKING -KNOW IT-