I recently learned of this word from the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows. Here's the entry (Found here http://www.dictionaryofobscuresorro.....uertraurigkeit ):

Mauerbauertraurigkeit
n. the inexplicable urge to push people away, even close friends who you really like—as if all your social tastebuds suddenly went numb, leaving you unable to distinguish cheap politeness from the taste of genuine affection, unable to recognize its rich and ambiguous flavors, its long and delicate maturation, or the simple fact that each tasting is double-blind.

It is perhaps not the most 100% accurate description of how I feel often, but it's pretty damn close. And the alcohol currently in my system has me in the urge to vent. And I have a confession that for some reason I only feel comfortable saying here, to a bunch of strangers, most of whom couldn't care less, and in a journal late at night which I'm pretty damn sure will go more or less unread. That's probably a good thing.

So my confession? There are very very few people, if any, I hate more...than myself.

My brother asked me today what about myself did I love, and there was nothing I could say without feeling like I was actually lying. I mean, I love my family. I love my friends. I hate me. I hate me so much. I hate everything about me. And I can't even explain why. I insult myself in the mirror, in my own thoughts, listen to music that makes me feel alone, sabotage anything good happening to me, and convince myself I'm not worth anything at all. I have day dreams where I toss myself off buildings, throw myself into trains, down myself in water, die quietly in a hole, or run away to place I've never been leaving no trail so no one can find me and killing myself in anonymity.

But it's not like I will ever act upon those fantasies. Hopefully. I've never harmed myself physically. But I've done things that can best be described as mental or psychological self harm. The constant insults I throw at myself. I've convinced myself that I am shit. But it doesn't stop there. Some twisted part of me feels a need, or for lack of a better term, feels pleasure out of convincing others I'm shit as well. And that's where Mauerbauertraurigkeit comes into play.

There've been friends I've made, good friends, where for some reason or another, I feel the need to push them away completely. To act so shittly that they wouldn't want to be my friends anymore. To literally ruin my friendships just to have the satisfaction or the affirmation that I am indeed a worthless, friendless little shit. Now, this has mostly been towards the online friends I make. But even if it's just online friends, the moment I push someone far enough, it hurts the more rational side of me. I feel horrible, and that twisted part of my mind feels so satisfied with itself that I've pushed someone else away.

It's agonizing, to tell the truth. And I don't even know why I'm writing this journal anymore. I don't need y'alls sympathy. I don't need y'all saying I'm doing this just to get attention, just like my folks say. But they don't know what it's like knowing for a fact that I am not shit and being completely unable to believe it. The cognitive dissonance is almost literally painful. Maybe this is to get attention. Maybe this is a cry for help, and the alcohol sedated my self-hating mind so much I'm actually allowing myself to scream out.

I should go to bed now. I'm just about ready to pass out. I've done all the venting I can for one night.