Motherly Instincts.

Always a door step, never a coat rack.


(Update: I was pretty drunk writing this one. Take it with a grain of salt, and apologies in advance for wallowing in self pity.)

It strikes me as a bit problematic that, though my instinctive proclivity is to look after people, rarely is that ever the case in return.
My natural response to anyone else having anything that causes them difficulty, is to look after them, heart, soul, and everything else. Now whether my ostensible maleness causes them to doubt that this is my true intent, based on the duplicitous actions of my unwanted penis-bearing brethren, or that as individuals, they just don’t give a fuck, I /alway/ seem to be left disregarded and unappreciated for the effort that I put in for others.

I don’t know why this is, and if it were an occasional occurrence, I wouldn’t be that phased, but this has been the end result of every action I have taken in the last God knows how long. I have put in untold effort to make sure that other people are ok, happy, content, or improved in the emotional wellbeing, and I have still ended up alone, uncared about, miserable, and utterly dejected. I have given the most important, formative years of my life, to others, and have nothing to show for it, other than loneliness, depression, and abject disappointment.

I’m not about to act rashly about anything, don’t get me wrong. But just once in my life, I would like my efforts to help and care for people to be recognised, and not just thrown to the wayside like a spent condom or an empty baggy. I can’t continue like this, it hurts too much, to always be the one left alone.