My Scheme-less Life

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, I’m not who I seem to be. I’m empty. I’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. I’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 feelings… 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 I’m still deteriorating. If it happens again, that means I’m on crazy drugs for life. I can’t do this… I hate having to live, its too hard. I just feel like a burden to everyone. I can’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 it’s so sad. Heaven doesn’t sound so bad right now, not that I would end up there anyway… 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 I’m so lost that I don’t know what happiness feels like anymore. I feel like I’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 I’m not. I’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.

I’m hysterical. I don’t think before I speak, and I hurt others to make myself feel in control. I have no concept of appreciation. I’m so angry all the time. At my family; at Travis; at myself. But I can’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 don’t know why I do it to myself, but I don’t know how to stop. All I know is how to push people away. To isolate myself so I don’t get hurt. Little do I know, I’m the one doing the damage. Self-medicating. Drugs. Alcohol. Depression. Addiction. Failure.

Life sucks and then you die… If I’m just going to feel like this for the rest of my life I don’t want to suffer any longer. I do some really stupid things sometimes, and usually I think, “The worst thing that could happen is… I die,” but recently, that’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. Don’t think I haven’t tried. I have tried everything…. EVERYTHING. Ironically, love is the only thing that keeps me alive today. Travis is everything I have. He is my heart and soul. I can’t wait to live my life in the security of his heart. But I know I don’t deserve what he gives me; I don’t even deserve this life. Maybe I won’t fuck it up this time. But just in case, I’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.

I’m going to keep pretending to be ok for my family, and my love. But if I spin out of control again, that means I’m on my own this time. And I’m not totally sure I could do it again, but I can try. I don’t really have a choice, do I?

I’m so tired of living like this, suppressed by all of my fears and obsessions. I’m afraid of being alone with my thoughts. I’m afraid of losing control. I’m afraid of being less than I should be for everyone who loves me. I’m obsessed with being the best. I NEED to be superior, because that means I’m in control of what people think of me. I just want to be perfect. That’s all.

And then someone told me, “You made a mistake; you are not a mistake.” But unfortunately, I don’t think that applies if my whole life is a mistake.

I’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 child… the one with all the mental issues and expensive pills. Then again, if no one knows, it can’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.

“Have you ever been depressed?”
“No.”
“Then you will never understand.”

I look in the mirror and behind the layers of revolting exterior, I see the emptiness that has claimed the interior as it’s own.

I don’t want your sympathy.

Depression has consumed me for so long, that I’ve forgotten who I used to be.

Just as I think I’m done with this bullshit, I discover that I’ve lied once again.

The moment you realize you need help.

FUCK.