evianwatre

I don’t want anything.
“You broke me” but you are a concept, in the end i did this to myself and I deserve every bit of it.

and you, you typing this, you know how everything went down yet you kept on playing the victim, you don’t deserve anything and you know it, not a thing. They didn’t broke you, nobody broke you, it’s just the consequences of you being alive.

what the fuck was I born for? All I did in my life was to ruin things, everything, I fucked up everything, if I was never born none of this would happen, none of me would happen,  it’s all my fault for being this way and I can’t go on any longer.

theres nothing I like about myself, there’s nothing I wouldn’t change about myself, I wish I wasn’t me, i just want to forget about all this, I’m so tired of all and everything, I’m so tired of living like this every single day

i want to get beaten until I lose my consciousness, I hate myself, I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself so much I can’t put it in words but to repeat it over and over again, no more beautiful imagery, no more goals, no more wanting anything, no more flashbacks of the past when things were alright. I want to die, but if I do I’ll just ruin things more, I don’t even have the right to take my own life. I don’t deserve to take the easy way out. I want to die, I want to die, it never got better and I’m so tired, I’m so tired of this.

I don’t deserve to live, I don’t want to live, I just want to be right for once but there’s no way out. I want to die, I want to die, I’m so tired of living like this. I hate myself I hate it I hate it I miss when I wasn’t like this, I’m going insane, I’ve gone insane, I want to die. No medication, no attention, nobody’s knows, nobody will come, I don’t deserve anything, nobody should come.

Everything. I. Do. Is. Wrong.

Everything. I. Say. Is. Wrong.

depression feels like a cleanser, a type of bleach, erasing everything in it’s path. it’s hard to describe because everyday, i feel the same, yet different. it had washed the last bit of passion in me, love, creativity…me, i’m fading away as a whole.

i’ve been trying my best, to describe all this, it’s hard to…type out a word, is this the normality or am i just fucked up?i don’t know, i don’t know, i don’t know. i don’t feel…i don’t know how to describe it, i  feel like i should be happy, or sad, or angry, so i put myself in that state yet i’m not truly anything, there’s nothing, i don’t recognize anything.

i can’t think, if that’s the way to put it, i can’t really recall my past as if they are my own. the colors, shapes, settings, they feels like some alternate utopian film, a video tape left by some time traveller, that i kept for my own. i used to feel like a slowly deflating balloon, now there’s no air, neither is there a balloon.

what to draw next, what sentence to write next, what fictional world i could put myself in. my imagination has been reduced to blank, i think i still love my family, but the color and temperature of that love is also fading, i feel nothing, i feel everything, and i’m now floating above all this trying to decide what i should name this emotion, a blur of overwhelming consciousness, the self loathing and tears mixed together and fermented and evaporated into a fog that clogs up my brain, my identity, my senses and mind. i remember having colors and shapes in my mind, can you get aphantasia if you’re not born with it? starting when?i can’t seem to form a clear image in my head anymore, i can’t form any image at all, but i used to be able to, i’m sure of it.

i don’t want my creativity or imagination or whatever to come back, i don’t want my head to clear up again, i just want out. i’ve fucked up everything to the core, it’s 21 degrees back home, and i’m here left to rot in a room filled with the evidence of my existence, to cry, to smile, to go on another day knowing i’ve died near the endless beaches, a child in that pink long sleeve with the print of a ballet dancer made of sequins and plastic rhinestones, as she sank her feet into the soft, moist sand, she would have never thought that that was the end of her life, as the sea water floods over her ankle and she poses for the camera, not knowing what’s to come.

I don’t know what to write about anymore. There isn’t a bright route out of this. I don’t know how to ensure a good future when i can’t see any in front of me, i can’t imagine myself growing old, i’m running out of more time and options by the seconds yet i do nothing to stop it. I hate myself so fucking much, so much that i can’t even proper talk to someone anymore because hearing my own voice and me being the way i am is bad enough. i can’t stand this. it’s all my fault. I can;’t even write about anything practical. It’s like my brain has shut down and i’m so confused, i’m so confused if i’m even sick or not, even if i am it’s my fault for being ill, who am i to blame anyone else? i can’t even find a way out, i can’t even end it from what started all this. i can’t get anything done yet i’m typing all this shit, i’m tired of waking up in the afternoon, i’m tired of feeling like a dead seed rotting in the soil, i’m tired of feeling like an invisible livestock in the pigsty. when will the butcher come and end this for me? but the end’ll never come.

why do we have to love anyone? it’s so cruel, it’s too cruel for my family if i leave like this. every single second nothing goes on in my head except the sentence “i want to die, i want to die, i want to die, i want to die”, i say it out loud without knowing, i repeat i hate you to the air like some sort of lunatic, i can’t do this, i can’t do this. it’s like all the emotions has been blended into one, i just want to die, fuck other ways to say it, “i want to escape” “i want to leave”, i don’t care anymore. i don’t have to right to take myself away from the people i love or i’ll tear the family apart, i can’t stay inside here either. even going into a coma is better than this, i hate my fingers as they move across the keyboard, i hate my voice and the hair that dangles in front of my face, i hate the voices, i hate the thoughts, i cant’ keep on writing, there’s nothing to write about. there isn’t even any actual content in this post, i can’t deal with it anymore, it ate me hollow from inside out and left nothing but the loath for my own consciousness and the love that’s only making things worse. i just want to get something done, i just want to get everything back on track again, the memories and thoughts feel far away, so far that i can’t barely remember who i am. i’m stuck in between the numb phase and the start of an episode and i fucking hate it, either hit me to rock bottom again or send me into depersonalization, i can’t care less, just make everything stop, the reality feels too real.

from what i could remember, it happened during the spring break, when my mother found the receipt of a dress in my father’s suitcase. the dress wasn’t a gift for my mother, in the end, until this day i still don’t know about the full story——i don’t want to know

i was in grade 6.

this is not the event that made everything go wrong, it’s just a small piece of everything that happened, but i don’t want to forget about it, even though sometimes it feels like that the past doesn’t exist, as if my memories were just planted into my brain seconds ago.

my mother and i get in fights way too often, ever since i was little. i was mostly the one at fault, because i was, still is, such a pice of shit. when i heard the arguments from upstairs, the sound of my mother yelling at my father, the first emotion i felt wasn’t sadness, i can’t recall what, but it was overwhelming. i thought, finally i’m not the one causing the conflict, and i didn’t want to stay in the house,  so i left.

they were yelling at each other, the memory feels surreal even now, i forgot how i reacted then, i still can’t understand my own feelings, even to this day,

my house is one block away from the elementary i went to, i was wearing a white pajama dress, with an all-over cherry print, and i just thought i need to be further away from the voices of my parents, as if then the conflict’ll disappear. it was strange, i couldn’t recall if i cried, but i do cry often, so i probably did. i remember seeing crows, a few of them, slowly, carelessly walking alongside of the road, i wanted to kill one with a rock, and of course i failed. it was a cold day, cloudy, i went to the playground of that elementary, climbed to the top of the rope pyramid, and thought, if anyone comes (as in my mother and father, but i was expecting my father since my mother goes hysterical at situations like these), i would jump down.

i experienced the “emo” phase earlier than most people, starting at grade 4, to the end of grade 7, i would talk about wanting to die and other stuff often, because it was cool. i forgot if i actually wanted to die then, i possibly did at times but most of the times i was just saying it to be special, but on the top of that rope pyramid the will to die was real, the funny thing is, even if i jumped then, i probably wouldn’t die, because the playground was covered in soft wood chips and i wasn’t up high enough.

i didn’t jump because nobody came. i was wearing a dress, after about one and a half hour later i thought i need to go back, because i couldn’t stand the cold. when i previously wrote about my memory, i included a lot of visuals, but i guess for this there wasn’t anything special, the sky was gray, i was in pajamas crying on top of a playground, that’s it. i didn’t want to go back, so i stayed in the backyard for a bit, then i knocked on the backdoor, my father saw me through the glass and opened the door for me, i guess they were fighting too much no notice that i was gone for 3 or so hours.

i don’t know, i don’t know why i’m sharing this. my parents didn’t argue often back then, they were fairly respectful and things were just..normal, they were. i don’t know what can be defined as a trauma, but i remember seeing my mother crawling under a bed, the bed that’s beside me right now, it was all dark, my dad was saying something while she cries, it was all dark and all i could hear was that and the song she played on her phone, the melody still fucks my head up. i don’t know why i’m sharing this, it isn’t even that important, but recently i’ve been thinking about it a lot, so i might as well write it out. it’s just a little thing that happened in the past, but when i hear that song, it still gives me goosebumps.

the lyrics of that song were in chinese. it’s a nice song, but i hate it, i hate it i hate it i hate it, i can’t stand the melody, hearing that song is the equivalent of knowing that my mother’s having another breakdown, but i still listen to it occasionally just to torture myself, i don’t know why, this is stupid, isn’t it?

here are the lyrics to that song, she used to listen to it all the time.

Friend, please don’t cry! 

Is there a window that can help me from desperation
Take a look at the colorful world that is only just a dream
Some people cry, others laugh; some getting lost, others getting old
At the end, it is still just the same!

Is there a kind of love that won’t hurt you
How much accumulates to intimate you so far
Which drunkeness won’t you wake up from; what type of pain won’t let you forget
Moving forward must not include looking back again…

Friend, please don’t cry! I am still your heart destination (meaning I still welcome you.)
Friend, please don’t cry! You have to believe in your decision
There are too many silly lost chases around the world (meaning you don’t really know what you are chasing.)
I can feel your painful heart…

Friend, please don’t cry! I’ve always been in the deepest of your heart
Friend, please don’t cry! I will accompany you, so that you won’t feel lonely
It is so so rare to have a really true friend among the crowd of the crowd
Thus, you can just ignore this (difficult) situation now……

…

Friend, please don’t cry! I am still your heart destination (meaning I still welcome you.)
Friend, please don’t cry! You have to believe in your decision
There are too many silly lost chases around the world (meaning you don’t really know what you are chasing.)
I can feel your painful heart…

Friend, please don’t cry! I’ve always been in the deepest of your heart
Friend, please don’t cry! I will accompany you, so that you won’t feel lonely
It is so so rare to have a really true friend among the crowd of the crowd
Thus, you can just ignore this (difficult) situation now……

i don’t understand.

something’s wrong.

i know that i’m myself, but something feels wrong. i have to keep doing things to keep myself together, i don’t feel myself. either i’m going insane, or i’m just trying to play the victim again, i fucking hate this, every part of it, every part of me. unintentionally i’ve created so many sides for different people, platform and situations, that they are unable to merge into one. i can’t clearly describe it anymore, if i stop distracting myself for a second i’ll fall into a loop of confusion. something is wrong, i can’t explain what. i feel like i’m transparent, outside of my own body, but alive, just simply perceiving reality is feeling strange.

depersonalization?

it’s like everything around me is getting more and more real, or i’m disappearing. i’m out of the previous depressive episode, when that hit, i could describe exactly what i’m thinking, but this time it’s different. i know that i’m myself, i feel myself, but i don’t think i’m myself. i don’t know if feeling something physically is going to help. i thought staying at home was fine, but more and more i feel detached from everything, even my own body. school, or at least being with other people helped to ground me down, at least then i knew that i was real. i usually feel this at night, 11pm to 7am, i guess it might just be my body fucking with me, telling me to go to sleep in it’s own way, who knows. i don’t know what’s wrong with me and i’ve never talked to anyone, which is a good thing, a few days ago i felt especially lonely, but now i can’t even feel lonely anymore, it might just be another one of those numb phase, shut up, shut up nobody cares nobody asked.

i don’t want to hear myself, i don’t want to see the things i’ve created, i don’t want to be here.

depicted by websites, depression or other mental illness sometimes “help” to spark an artist’s creativity, but the past 3 or so years everything’s drained out of me. i used to have so many ideas flowing inside my head, i can’t even fucking create anything anymore, all i want to is to cross out the things i draw and delete the things i write. i don”t know, i don’t know, i don’t know why i am going off on this.

everything feels like a dream. the past, the present, the emotions.

the cord on this lamp is really well made.

i thought strangling would help, i recognize my head, i recognize the song that’s playing, but something’s wrong. i want to die, i want to die, i want to die.

i guess i don’t have the energy for tonight, it didn’t hurt, it didn’t feel like anything, the first few times i strangled myself it felt relieving, i don’t know, i can’t handle this anymore, i’d rather feel something negative, anything, make me feel alive again. i want out, i can’t do this anymore. i don’t know who i am, it’s scary, i can’t even love anything anymore, the passion i once had, i’ve said this already, for so many times, the love, the heavy tears, they’re fading away, it’s just the eggshell walls colliding closer and closer, i want to actually like something i do for once, i want to find a part of myself that i don’t want to change” i, i, i,” all i think about is myself, i need to stop, everything needs to stop, i want to lay down and sleep for 3 days straight, i want to wake up near someone, just to be looked at, just to know that i’m still here, just to know that i’m alive, just to be loved. it’s so ridiculous and selfish, i don’t know if what the others think like, the people who aren’t like this, just take my everything away already. i don’t know what happened to fuck me up this bad. time is passing by extremely quick, i don’t know what to do.

a part of me is forever stuck in the past, another shattered in the winter of 2018, nothing has been going on, so why am i still like this?

what am i writing

usually I could write about things. I don’t know who I am, I thought I had hypersomnia but now I can’t sleep, everything is wrong but I can’t scream out. nothing is right, nothing I do is right, i can’t even write things out anymore. I feel weak, my head is completely quiet yet somehow, somewhere isn’t right. All I want is a way out, all I want is to stop being like this. Something isn’t right and I don’t know how or what, I don’t feel safe in myself anymore, I don’t feel settled, I don’t feel alive. This is my best attempt to write something out, nothing I write makes sense. Over and over and over and over again I don’t know what’s with me. I can’t leave, no matter what I do i won’t be able to leave, I need to keep distracting myself, I can’t even stop for one second or else the thoughts please catch up on me, I can’t run from it, I don’t even know what this is.

“Hey, I(look)stayed (at)up until (me)7 again”

“I’ve(look) been (at)miserable (me)lately”

how can anyone make it on themselves? How is it even possible to go on all alone?Look at me, lay an eye on me, tell me that’s I’m still alive.its going to be alright, it’s going to be alright, how is anything going to be alright if I don’t know what’s wrong?i can’t take it, I can’t anymore, even acknowledging that things are real is too much, I can’t run away from feeling alive, I can’t hide from anything, I can’t hide from anyone. a psychotic piece of shit.

the more recent the breakdown is, the more it feels like a faraway dream.

Apparently closed eye hallucination is a thing. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t dreaming, I was fully awake, I felt as if my eyes were open, then I had to close my eyes multiple times in the hallucination to open my eyes in real life. I felt first as if I was lying on the other side of the room, then from the dark behind my eyelids I saw a man walking to the washroom, I was squatting by a trash bin, there was a cup of coffee on top of the bin, the man walked into the washroom, then suddenly there was an lineup, a lot of people, lining up in front of the washroom. I got out of the hallucination for a second, then when I went in again it was just me and the trash bin, instead of the washroom and the lineup there was a dark tunnel.

im pretty sure that I wasn’t dreaming, a dream doesn’t feel like that, my mind was slow however i knew that I didn’t fall asleep. Pretty weird but, it was interesting, I can’t seem to get it to work again though.

edit:oops, was about to fall asleep, then I saw this purple blur and a streak of light, even though I had my eyes closed, guess it kind of happened again?

crying wouldn’t get the things out.

If you ever had those Asian meat and veggie stews, there’s a layer of oil floating on top of the sauce and liquid, and at the bottom of the sauce there are grains and clumps of food. When you drain the oil out, the clumps are still in the bowl, more compact, nothing changes. Tearing up is only draining the oil out.

I hate this, I hate how I’m in a constant conflict with myself, and I’m always the one at fault, since I’m fighting myself, I can’t win. Something really trivial happened and just triggered everything back. at least im not crying over nothing again, it happened because of an actual, but hey, hey, I’m feeling something, and fuck the stuff I said while I was in the numb stage, I don’t want to feel this, I don’t want to relive this, it just won’t leave alone. i have to pay back for everything good I feel, I was happy, god I was happy for the first time in months for one single night last week, and now I’ll have to pay the price. It hurts way too much, I can’t breathe, it’s all fake, it’s all fake, the reality I’m living in won’t let me live yet it won’t let go.

this is so fucking trivial, but my photos on both of my phones, they’re all gone, something happened, and there goes every one of them, I don’t even know what happened, but then I was upset, but i didn’t care enough to go into another episode, but then everything on my notepad disappeared.
im so terribly lonely I’m going to die, for the last 15 years, nobody has been to the inside of my heart before, haha, surreal dream, as if anyone actually had a person…we are all suffering, while I’m still holding a tiny bit of expectation, that someone will come and hold my hand.
The more connected we are, the lonelier we get. I see other people’s worlds, their happiness, things I’ll never be able to reach in my life. People under the sun wouldn’t even notice you, they don’t know that the shadows exist.

i havent cried this much in a while, the tears are just coming out and out and out, it’s good, thank god I can still cry. Keeping everything in is so fucking hard, at least the thoughts can flow out a tiny bit with the tears. Over what? Over the shit I wrote in a fucking app, more than that, but that started it all. I took escaping reality a bit fucking much and wrote so much about the love I wanted, I wrote so stories that helped to distract me from the fact that I’m here, and one click they’re gone, I didn’t even do it, I don’t know what happened, my diary disappeared 3 months ago when a similar thing happened, but it never hurt like this before, I through every last bit of me, the part that are still flammable into the bonfire of fake shit, words, characters, fictional relationships, and the protagonist isn’t even myself. I wrote about two people, being happy together, and that was enough, I wrote all and everything, only to have it all taken away from me again, and I’m all alone, its dark. it’s all in my head.

I just wanted to cope with things my way.

its so trivial, it’s fucking nothing compared to other people, yet I’m a fucking mess.

i don’t know what’ll make me get up tomorrow.

i don’t know what’ll keep me going anymore.

I just, secretly, at the bottom of my heart, I just want to be loved, like the character I wrote about, they held each other when they felt upset, they cared about each other, things I’ll never have, All I needed was to just write about it and that’ll be enough to make me happy.

jts taken away, again, just like everything else. I don’t know what’ll keep me going when I opened my eyes tomorrow, technically today, it’s 5:50 am.

In the end, no matter what I post, how I talk, how I feel, right now, at this moment, I’m just a fucking kid, and I don’t think I’ve ever grown out of the shadows, and life just took the last bit of passion out of me, I’m 15 but I ran out of time a while ago

no matter how long I last, it’s always going to end the same. People are right when they say it’s not going to be always like this, that it’s going to get better. But the “better” times come up for one day or two, they disappear,  then it’s weeks, months of suffering, instead hearing “it’s going to get better” in the dark, it’s worse to be under the sun knowing that “it’s going to get worse”

I’m not going to read this over, spelling and grammar might be trash, bear with me,

“Then why don’t you just do it?”

there’s no way out, this is way too fucking cruel, I’m running in a maze getting chased down by myself, while life fucks me up here and there just for fun.

I should do it, I should have done it a long time ago, I should have choked myself with the umbilical cord. I just want to live in my imagination, it doesn’t hurt anyone else, but myself yet I can’t do even that. I’m tired.

its 6am, I should sleep

fuck it, what a coincidence that it’s April fools.what if I leave today, a fool dies on fools day

what is it like to be loved?i wouldn’t know. escapism has gone so far where i don’t think i can face the truth, that i’m still alive, in the world. i’m still all alone. nobody’s there to listen, nobody’s there to love me, nobody knows this side except for myself, and i hate myself for it.

i hate myself, oh my god i hate myself with every single cell in my body. the depressive episode ended and being alive has been a numb, grey process of eating, sleeping, playing games, and more, the things i hate myself for. i can’t release the shadows, i can’t feel anything positive, or even negative, to an extent, low libido, low energy. i am not trying to diagnose myself of hypersomnia, but i’m suffering under some, if not many, symptoms of it. i’m so terrified of doing anything to my family, the guilt of being born is driving me insane, but if i leave i would hurt them and if stay i would hurt them even more. i know they love me, they’re the only ones on earth that care about me, yet the memories, the past, what they have done, i can’t go on, i can’t move past it, yet they’ll never know, they won’t ever hear it and they’ll never feel the way i do. i don’t want them to love me anymore, i don’t deserve it. i’m not in the place to talk about any of this stupid little boo hoo im upset stories, while some people has been through much worse and are still happy.

“hey.”

“what?”

“i don’t think i can feel happy anymore.”

“is that a good thing?”she asks.

i’m tired of changing who i am for people around me, yet i always have to change, all the time, i still do. if i want them to be happy i’ll have to become another, completely different person. who knows if they love me for who i am? they don’t know who i am, i don’t know who i am.

“i don’t know.”i answered her, the freezing chill of the spring wind travelled through the thin sleeves to my arms, then to the rest of my body, and i realized that i was wrong about how everybody felt the same.

i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry. the apologies won’t ever reach them. i know what i’m apologizing for, but they don’t. maybe it’s time, maybe i should just say fuck it, forget about the aftermath and leave. i can’t see myself growing old, i can’t see myself in a healthy relationship. i push people out yet i complain that i’m alone, god i’m so fucking stupid. i don’t see myself living that long, i don’t see myself going into post secondary because i feel like i would be gone by then, but now that i see it, it’s almost like i have to keep myself alive for longer. i don’t see myself, i can’t see myself in the future.

i wish i could disappear completely, so that i forget about the fact that i’ve existed, i shouldn’t have an impact on anyone around me, or please, at least make me invisible on earth. everything is grey, i smile, i tell myself “this must be happiness, this have to be”, but i don’t know, i feel the need to smile, but there’s nothing, there’s nothing at the bottom of it. despite of the low..libido, i try to feel something physically, almost as if i’m doing… it medically. there’s nothing positive, not even that. in the end i’m still all alone, dirty, pathetic, all alone in the dimly lit room, trying to tell myself that things are going to fix themselves. i can’t move on when all i can think about is how to live for another month, the aftermath of my death and the reactions of my loved ones. i’m scared out of nothing, self isolation did nothing to me, honestly it helped the anxiety to go down, it’s almost like i want another depressive episode, just so i can cry it out. i don’t deserve it, but i have to release it somehow from myself, right now, in this state, i can’t even cry.there’s nothing, no satisfaction, slight gratefulness when i receive something i used to want, and then the guilt. why should i own this when there are people out there that are dying and need the money? while i’m here ordering things that won’t even make me happy. someone should take my place, someone that can make a better life out of this, someone more likable, someone that is capable of being human. is there anything about myself that i want to keep? i asked myself that question, i can’t change who i am, and it’s all my fault, the only option is to stay a coward and end this for the better, yet i can’t, it’s too selfish, but i can’t wait that long, i can’t live like this any longer.

sorry.

I woke up, again. into the world where that wouldn’t leave a space for me, to be filled with hatred and anger and disappointment and sadness as everything rushes their way back in again. Yet I know that it’s my fault, but I can’t help to long to be loved.i know I’ll never be, I know because I can’t even put up with loving myself.
I woke up again, for the 5621st time in my life. The sky is gray, I need to go, but to do what? For what?

to work towards a future for myself that’ll only satisfy people around me. Yet the only beautiful future I see is the one without me.

i had a dream, a wonderful dream, where everything went away and I thought the suffering  is coming to an end, and I woke up.

the same eggshell walls, light green floral bedding, the same world as always. My eyes were burning. I’ve been crying during the dream. everything was so real.

one day in gr 3’s summer break, i sat through the tv sales ads and watched spongebob all morning just like every day else.

around 1 I took a nap.

mosquito bumps, the buzz of cicada, the linen beddings were moist to the touch, air conditioning wasn’t on to save power. It was nap time yet I wasn’t sleepy. i remember how my eyes traced to the patterns of the off white nylon curtains. i wasn’t much of a napping person as a child, but the only way to escape the heat was to go to sleep.

then the afternoon, it was the hottest part of the day. i snuck out through the wired doors of the apartment quarter. I had a keycard, but the gap was big enough for me to crawl out anyways. i lived close to the school, and near the school opened stationary shops, where i spent the money of my own, or sometimes a few bucks i stole from my parents’ pockets.
comics, cheap toys, if I had enough money, a popsicle.

i wasn’t interested in the idea of walking for fun, but my father had always insisted for me to go on walks with him, and i did on that day. There were benefits, however, there’s a playground in the residential area which we could go, or he could possibly buy something for me from the stationary stores nearby. there was also a dairy bar across a block, but that night we just went to the playground.

I sat on the swing, too short to reach the ground. As my father pushed me i felt the wind blow onto my face, almost chilling as it dried off the sweat on my forehead.
the air was still humid, warm but cooler than the morning, I looked up into the sky where the glow of street lights (dim, dusty, yellowish toned, surrounded by moths) softly blurred my vision. the dots of signal lights of faraway planes. There were speckles of stars in the sky, not a lot of them but visible enough the night to be considered starry. to my left was the murky, greenish manmade pond, thickened by mosses, yet the water glimmered through the gaps in between the lotus flowers and their round, plate-like leaves. A water strider hopped through.the buzz of cicadas softened, yet the night was still noisy, children’s laughters, crickets, squeaks from the chains of the swing

I wasn’t ready to grow up

stopping to ask myself why i can suddenly stop after laughing to other people’s jokes, and there i realized that i’ve been completely joyless, i find comfort and relief in pleasant things, i “enjoy” them in a way, but i don’t feel happy, i can’t bring myself to raise my energy on anything. i’m recording this for me to read later, i think writing this down might help me destress. but i don’t feel the stress, i can’t feel stressed anymore, all there is is fear of what’s up to come, the consequences if  i don’t get something done, or if i’ll make a choice that will change things up forever. i don’t want to sleep, i don’t want to face the morning, i don’t want to see the happy faces of people surrounding me, everything feels strange, as if they’re stripping away from reality, or my body and memories are rejecting me. waking up and feeling my identity and responsibilities again, just being alive, seeing this person i hate with every last bit of my heart, i’ve been burning out.

the human race isn’t going to shit, it’s just us.people are so aggressive towards everything else sometimes, it’s almost like they find joy in seeing other people suffer, maybe they do.i wish people had a complete set of morals. kind, innocent people don’t and shouldn’t have to live up the consequences of the mistakes of others, i’m not talking about myself, but i hold hope in the world, humanity, i love this world, just not me, not anything about me or surrounding me.

is having suicidal thoughts 50 times a day a part of growing up? it’s normal isn’t it, everyone struggles with these things, i shouldn’t feel special, i shouldn’t complain.i’m incapable of being human.

it’s so strange, suddenly i see my hands moving and i don’t feel like they’re my hands, as if my brain is defamiliarizing every part of the world, including this body, to me. i’ll only feel this way in one night. every day i think about ways to leave, what’s upcoming, the heart’s i’ll break, the tears, traumas to other people, i don’t want to be seen or to make any sort of impact to the world. again, again and over again, i think about myself and everything that proved my existence or consciousness to disappear, people’s memories of me. i keep on trying to seek the value in myself from others, it’s almost getting fucked up. i’m unable to see myself out of a toxic relationship of some sort, it’s almost like i prefer it.i only talk like this on this website, here i can drop down the characters i’ve been setting myself up as. well, not really, since i just deleted that chunk of personal things. i’m still trying to talk in the right way so people wouldn’t get angry at me, guess you can’t run from everything, hm? you only feel the same things for so long, and i’ll only be like this for tonight, it’s going to be over soon. it’s almost like i’m getting hugged by the air.

to feel loved without guilt. to feel loved, to be loved, to love, i don’t understand. am i too spoiled or self centered? it’s normal for people to go on without love, right? the hollowness is swallowing me from the inside, the pressure from the throat to my chest, the terrible feeling of being alone, for years, staying quiet and taking the blame, only to be bent more and more. i can’t see the value in me anymore, the hatred i hold for myself just for hearing the thoughts in my head. it’s normal isn’t it? for people to live on without comfort. it’s too much to ask for, but at least i want to have someone to tell me if i’m still worth something. they can beat me up, hurt me, whatever afterwards, i just want to feel loved, no matter the consequences. i feel a part mature and a part child, the memories never went away, the beaches and humid air in the summer, mosquitoes and the waves of air conditioning and the scent of dust, spicy snacks, or the polluted sky

i’m too tired to cry

how many times will it take for me to completely burn out? my head is going black every 5 seconds, and it’s so easy to just freeze in one spot for minutes without realizing. i’m trying to distract myself, but i have to do the work. the words on paper seem to be becoming thinner, the the white of the document peaks through from the letters, almost hurting my eyes. i can read the words but it take minutes for me to interoperate what i’ve been reading, i can’t put a sentence together

i’m so tired, i’d die to take a nap right now, but i can’t. i know that i wont be able to(i forgot what i want to write about)

i need some rest.

i need to finish my work, 4 paragraphs more, at least 3, i won’t be getting more than 2 hours of sleep, in class essay tomorrow, i’ll have to prepare for that.

i can’t concentrate on anything. my head hasnt been clear in months. i don’t know what i’m supposed to do, to secure a bright future but the only version of that i don’t see myself in it. i think you know what i mean, i’m too tired to fix the structure.

distractions distractions distractions, i thought about strangling a bit more, but i feel too weak, tired, powerless of my own body i can’t even get down the bed.

my body is so heavy.

should i just not do my part of the work and sleep? avoid it some more and make people hate me more? constant flashbacks to the past, as recent as 1 year ago, still feels so strange.

but i can’t recognize my state of mind

i’ve never felt more worthless, i’ve never hated myself more, yet i’m powerless against myself and this life that’s forced to go on in front of my eyes. the flashbacks of the past and my own voice won’t leave me alone, and i know, even if i reach out, that nobody is going save me from myself.

because the definition of that phrase for me is to end your own life.

how many thoughts regarding suicide in detail is healthy for one to have in a day? i kept whispering to myself how much of a piece of shit i am, that actually makes me feel better. masochonistic enough to put up with everything yet i still care about the people around me enough to trap my consciousness on earth.l had a note app that i used to record things, but recently the app stopped working, i’ve been writing my will on their for a while, and my way of seeing towards the world and my past. gone, i guess, they aren’t worth much either. i’ve been dealing with loss pretty well

or i’m numb enough to see that not as a worry, who cares. i love you

i might have hypersomnia

yet i’m still keeping myself alive for the abusers, for the ones unaware of their deed and the ones i love with every last piece of sanity left in me. i know the suicide note is going to include something like “please don’t blame anyone, it’s not your fault”

but it is.

but i can’t talk about it, but i can’t mention it a bit because i want them to be happy.

but to keep them happy i shouldn’t end my life at all.

but i think i also deserve to rest, no matter how selfish, how stupid i am, no matter how much i deserve this, i desperately need an escape

but there won’t be one.

if i’m alive i’m going to irritate and hurt them if i die i’m going to ruin this family. i’m doing terrible things either way. my birth is doomed to ruin them either way and i hate that for myself, i do, i do. i love them but i hate the things they’ve done, the things they’re so unaware of, how they ignored my cry for help when i had the last bit of courage to make things better, the words they said, the sound and the memories carved into flesh that just won’t heal no matter what. i’ve tried to make things better, but they always wanted a different person, i’ve tried to turn myself into someone else, i’ve tried to stop talking, stop the conflicts from happening, stop the things that’ll trigger the condition, but no matter what i do i just can’t seem to avoid it. every part of me is constantly in pain, i tried to run away from it, i tried to forget about it, the traumas and restless nights, thinking about suicide 50 times a day, feeling like my head is so full it’s about to explode. it’s almost funny because before i was sure that i’m depressed i thought everyone had to fight these demons, but no, there’re actual families that are functional and non-toxic. people are actually able to live under the sun and feel genuine joy and go on chitchat for hours without the thoughts popping up every 5 seconds, it’s actually possible for people to be happy without any consequences.

lol, guess i was wrong?

writing about it really helps, i do feel a bit lighter. i might be running a fever, just a little, or is it just a simple cold? i don’t know but it’s actually comforting being sick, i usually get cold chills when i struggle under these episodes, but today i’m all warm and that really helped.

my first post on this site was about how much i want to try a pop tart, filled with swear words, with almost no punctuations. it was funny to look back at the time where i was actually…kind of ok? it’s weird watching how quickly everything worsened, but the thing is, my guy, i still didn’t get that pop tart >:0

I hate it here, it’s always raining in Vancouver, hostile people, grey skies, boring people, boring places, their boring ways to dress, they all watch and read the same stuff. the lack of conversation topics, people are either extremely alike or completely different. Every day just blends into another, the same house, the same bed, the same wardrobe, the same food, same faces, same breakdowns.
It just have to be me to be born here, into a world that’ll never make me feel complete. I don’t know what I want, and I don’t know what’ll make me happy. There’s too much beauty in the world, I feel like I could drawn. I can’t express myself at all. I wanted to be heard, but I don’t want to make anyone see the world the way I do. I can’t stand being human anymore, I can’t stand the thoughts anymore. My mind is split into little sections, one day I’m this and another day I’m someone completely different, with the same memory, opinions, but different. I hate this one the most, I’ve posted about feeling this way before, it’s almost like I’m seeing everything with the perspective of a stranger, yet I’m myself. Everything feels strange and new, yet old. Oh please, I’d rather give anything of my own up to forget about me.

hypersomnia and depression, hypersomnia and anxiety, hypersomnia and love and joy and beauties and numbness and the lack of joy and the voices and flashing lights.

i don’t want anyone to be in this place, I don’t know what changed that turned me into this way. It’s terrible, torturous. It’s all in my head, why do I think like this? Why do I talk like this?

I’m so many different people at once.

It’s so hard to describe, especially when you’re suffering from what seems to be a mental illness. It’s not that I have any actual personality disorder or anything, but switching characters is exhausting, switching who I am is exhausting, and my opinions and the way of expression shifts so much it’s not unnecessary, but

but what, but I can’t find a word to get the idea across

i talk, a lot, it’s my character. But I just can’t get what I actually want to say out. My thoughts are almost abstract, when they’re clear they shifts all the time as I become her friend or his daughter, his student or the username on social platforms.

i can’t think of my thoughts

what are your thoughts when you can’t control them?

I talk on this site differently depending on how I feel, that goes for every human on earth. But sometimes the things I state only occur to me when I’m in that situation and mood, that goes for every human on earth, I don’t know what’s the point of me writing this. I feel powerless against myself

i know that I’m not going to be saved, I know how they are, I know how this is. I don’t know who I am because there’re too many of me. I’ve been lying and thinking and pretending and repeating the loop, I don’t know how to make it out, I don’t know when I can save me from myself.

i don’t know what I’m saying. To be human, to live, I can’t keep this up. I don’t know what I’m saying, because I don’t know who this is

After my death nobody will know why, the reason the feelings my view my opinions, all that, I guess it’s good in a way. Nobody will understand who I am and how I feel, nobody will after my death.

the urge won’t last, the urge and thoughts won’t continue, I won’t be killing myself, or will I?

i don’t know when will be the time, I don’t know if I can even last another year. They don’t see it, they don’t and I need to recognize that nobody will ever do. INFP is the most idealistic personality and I fucking hate it, I hate holding hope and fantasies, I hate the nostalgia, I hate being able to speak, I hate being able to think. I don’t know how anyone can put up with being human, the limbs are getting numb, i thought I can’t feel another thing again and I was so happy of it.

the words circling around, the thought of never being understood, the dread around the chest. What’s been triggered by a small issue stays a minor problem to them, I’m so ducking selfish, i want them to understand, And it’s fucking more impossible than making a rabbit walk on its two ears. I don’t want to stop being ill, that’s the only way I can pay back for being this piece of shit. But I’m so tired, I can’t function properly, I can’t act normal and I can’t read minds.

i would drop anything I love to die. But I can’t, but I can’t, all that goes on in my mind is the cost of my death, families torn apart, relatives wondering why I ever did it, how I’m too sensitive and a “minor issue” pushed me into killing myself. It’s the guilt of living and self hatred building up more and more for the past 5 years, it’s the memories, tortured by my own head, seeing other people being normal makes me so jealous I want to die, everything results in one, self harming doesn’t help anymore, self deprecating jokes doesn’t make them love me more. I don’t know why you’re automatically attached to your family, all I see and everything I see is visions of me, knocked over by a car on the highway, half hanging on the ceiling, in a room with charcoal burning, bottles of alcohol, falling off of a tower, the thought of my head, cracked like a watermelon, my thought finally being released. I need to drop all the hope, I wish I’m more ill at this point, where I completely lose my mind and would be able to kill myself in the blink of an eye.

i want to stop loving the others and have my heart twisted and stepped on and be portrayed as the victim, I’m fine with people stepping on me, I just never, never did anything.

here comes the self pity, I don’t even know who I am anymore.