The mess that is me

To understand someone, walk a mile in their shoes - apparently, I'm one of those people who wouldn't be caught dead in someone else's footwear. I know I have a lot of flaws. I admit it wholeheartedly. Heck, I've admitted it wholeheartedly in this blog and elsewhere. But I've always thought: who's perfect, right? However, it has recently come to my attention that I am the least empathetic person in my life. I'm pretty sympathetic, I believe; I feel sorry for people and wanna help, but I really, truly have a hard time feeling what they're feeling. I get so wrapped up in a "If you were me..." mindset - let's just say I use my own yardstick to measure other people and it's been getting me into trouble lately. It's like a horrible compulsion with me, this constant, "Well, if it were me, I'd definitely...". I just keep setting myself up for emotional injury. It seems all I do nowadays is sulk and act like a weepy deranged lunatic. That's not me, or at least, I don't believe it is. I'm manipulative, but not in such an idiotic way, and I'm certainly not feeling manipulative at the moment. The crazy part is that I can see clearly that all the personal problems I have, I am at least 50% responsible for them. This is not the say the other party is wholly off the hook; if there's no spark, there's no fire. It's just that I know I can handle things better but I refuse to. I can't tell my folks about this; my family has this thing of always taking sides against me in these sort of situations. "You're too emotional," they tell me. They're right, but sometimes, you know, I just need to hear things. I can't say it any better than that; I'm really not that word-witty. Actions may speak louder than words, but sometimes, I feel like I'm blind. God, I really don't have time for any of this idiocy. My plate is full to overbrimming. Why do I keep setting myself up for insanity? Sometimes, I'm terrified I'll wake up and everyone will have thrown in the towel on me. It's not that I'm scared to be alone or even to be lonely, it's not that. It's that feeling of abandonment, of knowing you have completely exhausted every single person in your life and they want nothing else to do with you, and it doesn't matter whether you live or die or what. They're just fed up with you. Good riddance to you, you cruel judgemental constantly-in-need-of-emo tional-reassurance basketcase. At these times, I just wanna...I don't know, scream or throw something or slit my wrists or jump off a bridge. Just to avoid ever having to feel that. That's when I have to set myself the task of pulling myself back to my life - blogging, talking to my mom or my best friend. I don't know why little things have been setting me off lately. It's not the things themselves per se, it's my interpretation of them. I feel sorry for the people who have entered my life at this junction; it's like they're caught in the middle of a hurricane that was only just building and I didn't bother to give them any warning. How can I when I myself have no idea about the weather? 

Final thought: Maybe the whole world wants to take a break from me. I'd understand.