I feel like that again. Like all I can do is cry. And be depressed. And hate myself. My tears feel like razor blades. My heart aches. Yet again, Iâ€™m not who I seem to be. Iâ€™m empty. Iâ€™m scared… I want to be gone, so no one has to deal with the pathetic excuse for a person that I am. And so I can be done with this. Disgust is the only thing I see in myself. Iâ€™m the one who made myself like this. And there is no way to fix me. I depend on pills to keep me alive, to numb my feelingsâ€¦ The ones that no one understands, the ones you cant explain to anyone. And after everything, I still suffer silently behind it all. The drugs help, but Iâ€™m still deteriorating. If it happens again, that means Iâ€™m on crazy drugs for life. I canâ€™t do this… I hate having to live, its too hard. I just feel like a burden to everyone. I canâ€™t be what everyone thinks I am. Its like every day, I have to fumble around for a reason to pretend to be a person. And itâ€™s so sad. Heaven doesnâ€™t sound so bad right now, not that I would end up there anywayâ€¦ Christianity says suicide is a sin, and all sinners go to hell. Oh well. Anywhere sounds better than my mind at this point.
All I want to do is be happy but Iâ€™m so lost that I donâ€™t know what happiness feels like anymore. I feel like Iâ€™m suffocating and the grip that depression has on my life just keeps getting tighter, with each passing day; like last time. I hate myself. I hate what Iâ€™m not. Iâ€™ve lost the ounce of self-respect I had. I always thought of people who cut as crazy until that precious moment when I was in so much pain that I had to feel a cold blade on my skin to remind myself that unfortunately, I was still alive. I have to bleed to feel relief. It feels good to finally be in charge of my own pain.
Iâ€™m hysterical. I donâ€™t think before I speak, and I hurt others to make myself feel in control. I have no concept of appreciation. Iâ€™m so angry all the time. At my family; at Travis; at myself. But I canâ€™t help it; its like something else is doing this to me. It takes a toll on me too. It tears me apart from the inside. I donâ€™t know why I do it to myself, but I donâ€™t know how to stop. All I know is how to push people away. To isolate myself so I donâ€™t get hurt. Little do I know, Iâ€™m the one doing the damage. Self-medicating. Drugs. Alcohol. Depression. Addiction. Failure.
Life sucks and then you die… If Iâ€™m just going to feel like this for the rest of my life I donâ€™t want to suffer any longer. I do some really stupid things sometimes, and usually I think, â€œThe worst thing that could happen isâ€¦ I die,â€ but recently, thatâ€™s a thought that comforts me.
I have realized that the depths of my addiction and loneliness are nothing compared to the boundless depth of love, which of course is something I lack. Love of myself… the definition of change. Donâ€™t think I havenâ€™t tried. I have tried everythingâ€¦. EVERYTHING. Ironically, love is the only thing that keeps me alive today. Travis is everything I have. He is my heart and soul. I canâ€™t wait to live my life in the security of his heart. But I know I donâ€™t deserve what he gives me; I donâ€™t even deserve this life. Maybe I wonâ€™t fuck it up this time. But just in case, Iâ€™m still waiting to wake up alone.
Guilt and shame are the main causes of my despair; leaving me with a feeling of incompleteness, loneliness, and hopelessness; no matter how many people surround me. Not feeling good enough for anyone or anything has led me to lose everything I once had. Including sanity.
Iâ€™m going to keep pretending to be ok for my family, and my love. But if I spin out of control again, that means Iâ€™m on my own this time. And Iâ€™m not totally sure I could do it again, but I can try. I donâ€™t really have a choice, do I?
Iâ€™m so tired of living like this, suppressed by all of my fears and obsessions. Iâ€™m afraid of being alone with my thoughts. Iâ€™m afraid of losing control. Iâ€™m afraid of being less than I should be for everyone who loves me. Iâ€™m obsessed with being the best. I NEED to be superior, because that means Iâ€™m in control of what people think of me. I just want to be perfect. Thatâ€™s all.
And then someone told me, â€œYou made a mistake; you are not a mistake.â€ But unfortunately, I donâ€™t think that applies if my whole life is a mistake.
Iâ€™m so sorry.
You think what you say has no affect on me. But it leaves me broken every time.
I give others the advice that I once worked for me. But then I go home and cry because I feel worthless. And no one notices.
I hate being the shitty childâ€¦ the one with all the mental issues and expensive pills. Then again, if no one knows, it canâ€™t hurt anyone but me.
I put makeup on so no one sees my flaws. I wear sweat pants and a jacket so no one sees my body. I wear bracelets so no one sees my cuts. I put on a smile so no one sees my pain.
â€œHave you ever been depressed?â€
â€œThen you will never understand.â€
I look in the mirror and behind the layers of revolting exterior, I see the emptiness that has claimed the interior as itâ€™s own.
I donâ€™t want your sympathy.
Depression has consumed me for so long, that Iâ€™ve forgotten who I used to be.
Just as I think Iâ€™m done with this bullshit, I discover that Iâ€™ve lied once again.
The moment you realize you need help.