It's my pity party and I'll cry if I want to

Warning: whining and really bad allegory ahead.


I’ve fallen in a hole. It’s not the first time. It won’t be the last. But I’m finding it harder and harder to pick myself up, brush myself off and climb my way out of the hole. Right now, I think I’ll just lay here for a while. Will I get buried under the inevitable stuff that will fall in the hole after me? Maybe. I’m just too tired of it all to care. It would be nice if once, just once, someone would lend a helping hand to get me back up again, rather than pushing me back down in. Hell, just sit in the damned hole beside me. Just be there.
Someone posted a poem that I loved. I said it could have been written for me were I the type to inspire poetry. He replied with she probably felt the same way. I guess sometimes we get so stuck in our own selves that we forget we aren’t the only ones to ever feel that way. I miss the old me sometimes. I’m sick of this bitter, cynical, tired, broken down, lonely, hopeless person I’ve become. I don’t blame anyone for not wanting to be with me. But again, just once, I want someone to love me despite all my problems, hang-ups and baggage. Hell, despite all THEIR problems, hang-ups and baggage. Sometimes I think I ask too much or have unrealistic expectations. Or maybe I’m just expecting it from the wrong people. I don’t know. I just know that right now, I’m the wrong person.