Identity

No religion post today. Instead, it’s getting very personal and very sad.

So, last night I was reminded, once again, how isolated and friendless I am. Now, to some that would sound like just another teenage complaint and shit, but it’s not. I’ve got no “tribe.”

There was a study done that tried to explain how women dealt with stress and their go-to, almost across the board, was to go to someone for help. Women have groups, squads, tribes. Other female mammals do this too. I can’t. I never got the opportunity.

Growing up, I was taught to be a people pleaser. I never learned how to do anything for myself. That’s the reason I do everything I do. I dress how people want to see me, I act like people want me to act, I’ve lost 50 lbs just to make my partner happy. I now realize how detrimental to my development this is. I now have no personality.

I read once that people pick their friends by attraction, not in a sexual way, but just aesthetics. See, I’m not a beautiful person. I’m covered in self harm scars, I’ve got acne, I’m fat, black and nothing worth looking twice at. (Or even once for that matter.) When people are like me, they make up for it by having an amazing personality, right? They’re supposed to. I don’t.

I have no personality. No identity. There is no internal me that I don’t show anyone. What people see is all there is. I’m a book cover with no story on the inside. This is a jarring, unsettling realization. It makes me cold. I no longer care about myself. I cannot ever love myself because there is nothing there to love. That explains why I have no tribe, as well. How can people become attached to a blank space?

Because of this detachment and isolation, I’ve begun to relapse and not just a physical way. Everything has gone wrong. How can my gods love me if there’s nothing to love? Why stay alive if I’ll be forgotten in an hour? What’s the point of taking up vital resources and space if I’m not worth anything?

From being bullied from day one and trying my damnest to try and be what people would want me to be, I became a walking shell. I didn’t lose myself. You can’t lose something you never had in the first place.

I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m not supposed to be here. That’s why my destined tribe will never show up, because I was never even supposed to be here. My partner is stuck with someone who they aren’t meant to be with, because I was never meant to make it this far. I was supposed to kill myself four years ago.

Butterfly effect, I suppose. How can I complain when it’s my fault that I’m miserable? I have the power to pull the plug. It’s just a matter of will.

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