Just that. Emoness oozes from my pores on this one. I'm just looking for a place to safely put this so I can work with a clearer, somewhat, mind.


Ever since I could remember, I've always been the responsible child. I've always kept my brothers in line. I always made the right steps. Smiled at the right times. I've never been an embarassment to my parents and never given them the problems that most parents deal with when it comes to raising children and in particular teenagers.

My relationships with my peers are usually rocky, at best, but it is never for lack of trying on my end. I'm just a difficult person to be around and I demand a lot of people. I want a close relationship or none.

I think, in relation to both of these situations, the fear of disappointing someone has always been extremely high. I can deal with someone being angry and throwing harsh words, but there is -nothing- like the softer notes of quiet disappointment.

Disappointment is something that hurts me, but I know that it has been -my- failing that has hurt someone else... and there is some part of that that I cannot cope with.

I disappointed my mother today, on her anniversary, and for no good reason. I would say that it was totally unintentional, but I don't think it is... I think it was a trap I laid for myself, and I walked right into it pretending not to see it all the while.

Maybe I was looking to test my boundries. Maybe I was looking to confirm my inability to do anything right these days. These days, all I seem to do is fail. I've failed two important relationships and I've failed my mother. It seems I fail myself often, and maybe I was looking for the sting of disappointment to put me back on track. (For one relationship failed I found acceptance, and the other was pure indifference.)

Maybe I just wanted to fail and to see how my parents would take it. It has always been, "You're allowed to fail." That's such an easy line to hold to though when you have a child that doesn't fail. I've never been allowed the same leash as my brothers, and it has always been my hand- rather than that of my parents- yanking my choke chain until I was struggling for breath.

It's like all those lines that are supposed to mean something. "I love you" and that means so much until that love is put to the test. "I trust you," but what does that mean if there has never been a question of trust? I can fail you, and I'll fail over and over just to see how low I can go.

Sometimes, I'm not entirely sure why I wake up in the morning. It's a mechanical affair.

Now if only disappearing were just as mechanical.