A Sinking Ship in an Ocean of Sharks

I’m a thirteen-year-old girl who shouldn’t have the right to complain. There are people out there dying and starving, being hurt and abused, while I sit here in a bed on my laptop, with clothes to wear and food to eat. But why is life not that simple? Why does my mind betray me with little thoughts and snippets of  ‘you complain too much’? No matter how much I try and face that seemingly innocuous thought, I always end up returning to the complaints and desires I try so hard to run away from.

Somehow, I think I’ve seen too much for being this age (haven’t we all?). I’ve seen friends around me try and try and try to kill themselves; with real problems in their lives and evil demons above them. I’ve watched as resolves crumble away into fine dust, but still, I can’t do anything to help.

Maybe it’s my sense of helplessness and uselessness that makes me yearn for a blade to soothe away my troubles, or maybe deep down, I’m just craving attention in a warped, twisted way. Mutilation in its rawest form isn’t pretty. It’s red and blotchy and bloody, but you feel like the only thing separating you from your happiness – your cloud nine –  is one more cut. One more slash along pale skin. 

When in reality, you know it isn’t the solution and it never will be.

I’ve been turned away as ‘unimportant’ for a long time; but maybe it was meant to be this way.

Yesterday,  I held a handful of pills in my hand and nearly tried to overdose.

Of course, I knew I would have failed miserably –  being the klutzy dunce I am, and in that event, I’d have to face people who would label me based on my past actions. My parents would not only think of me as a ‘freak’, but as ‘psychotic’ as well. My friends would tread around me like they were walking on thin, thin ice (oh yes, this ice would be the type to shatter right away); holding their breaths in anticipation as they would stutter for the right words that would never come out.

Depression does this to you.

I once read online – this quote, I do not know the author of – that people rather be miserable than risk being happy. I think this is especially true because it also applies to me.

You’re a sinking ship in an ocean of sharks.

Sinking, sinking; to an everlasting oblivion.
The dark ocean floor ascends as the sharks swim closer.

You’re sinking, you’re sinking…

And then, you’re eaten up by the darkness.

…

Only when you’re at the bottom do you realize there’s actually a way back up.

That’s another thing.

To those people who have survived and surpassed this everlasting darkness, this everlasting oblivion: I want you to pat yourself on the back and spread the word that survival is evident if you keep pushing on. I may feel like giving up, but I think that things will get better.

If you haven’t cut today, I’m proud of you.

If you haven’t starved yourself today, I’m proud of you.

If you haven’t thrown up today, I’m proud of you.

If you haven’t had a panic attack today, I’m proud of you.

And even if you have, you’re still beautiful. You’re still a great person and you still need to keep pushing past barriers and beat invincible villains and overcome bearing obstacles. Because you can do it.

Even if you’re on that sinking ship in that ocean of sharks with me. Even then, you can so it.

You can survive.