No matter how hard we try…..there are times that actually disappoint an individual… A very common reason is the past that haunts us and those things that we really aren’t able to get over….n what if the past repeats itself or just comes back…knocking the door….saying…”Hi darling….m back!” We simply can’t decide how to react…The dilemma of the present situations adds up too……Every human in the world is born with the right to make mistakes….that is how each one of us learns….n frankly…there is no such mistake that can’t be forgiven……then why do people have a generalization on basis of a mistake and judge you………they simply add upto the mental torcher and render the situation even more difficult to cope up with….everybody has certain turning points in life….and these instances teach us…give an experience…..but later when we look behind……it seems as if everything’s gone…all the twists ad turns are no more….it’s just over…….n then….having the thought of being supported,yet being alone…..very painful it is!!! One feels lifeless……All this is more like a battle….that every individual fights in one or the other form….and then…comes a day….we find ourselves standing alone in the field….DEFEATED….LOST……BROKEN…..
Haven’t been here in a while. Things got better for a while but somehow i’m the same again. I feel so lifeless. Found something temporarily for my hurt but when that’s not enough, I’m not sure what I will turn to. I’ve been feeling down lately, feel like i don’t want to live anymore. I’ve turn to cutting to ease my pain, holds me about a day or so. First it was just my wrist then I’ve move to my face. It’s a bit uncomfortable because people always watch me like what happen to me. They often ask if someone is beating me. I work in a supermarket, so my scars are visible to everybody. I don’t know what to do because cutting is the only thing that keeps me relax. Weird but that’s how I feel. I really wish things would get better for me. I cry most of the time to fall asleep. My life is really broken. 23 years of life and I’m sorry to say that I hate it. Surprisingly, I’m still here because I have a son. Don’t want to break his heart like mine is broken.
I think I plan to go by May. The month I’m supposed to graduate. See, I was to kill myself January 9th (my birthday) I had the right method to make sure I don’t actually wake back up, but I didn’t have the right place. And I couldn’t do it at home because I don’t want my mom seeing my lifeless body. But in May, I’ll have a place.
I was supposed to graduate college this year but I had to dropout due to academic probation. My grades dropped really bad, to the point where I just ended up failing all my classes. I don’t understand what happened. I went from straight A’s to straight F’s. I want to go back to school and start over again, but who’s going to accept me with those kind of grades. I thought I wanted to be a nurse and help people, but I wish I could go back and be a Vet Tech and help animals instead. But I just don’t see it all happening. There’s no way I’m getting in. How do I even go on from here? I’m in debt. Student Loans, penalized for not having/being able to afford health insurance last year, and more loans. I’ve spoke about this topic before on here about being raped in my dorm in November 2014. I still have not gotten over it. I have dreams about it every other week. I wake up everyday with the thought of suicide on my mind. I just do not see things getting better from here. It’s impossible. The reason I chose May because as I said, It’s the month I’m supposed to graduate. By that time I would be able to get everything that I’ve wanted to do out the way.
I guess my problem is, I could never do anything right in life. I sucked at literally everything. So there is nothing out there for me. No skills. No talent. I have no reason to be here. I don’t have a purpose. I should not be here. I should be dead. It simply does not get better.
I’ve just needed to get this story off my chest. It’s been two years, and I’ve only told two friends and my councilor. This isn’t much of a story, but when I begin to think about suicide I remember the saving thought that I had. A lot of the time we feel so alone in the world. It can be for many reasons, but I think what I learned is, you’re not alone. No matter what you want to believe to make choosing suicide easier, you’re not alone, someone will still feel grief for you when you pass. For some people that’s not much of reason to stop. But I would encourage anyone who is thinking about it to sit down, be honest with yourself, and make a list of people that would probably miss you when you are gone. I guarantee that list will be long enough to reconsider. It doesn’t have to be your very best friends and family only, put down that teacher that always smiles and says hello to you, the girl in math class who asks for a pencil every once in awhile and talks to you while walking to your lockers, or maybe that one kid who doesn’t have many friends that you sit with at lunch on occasion. These people may not be your closest or best friends, but I know each and everyone would be negatively affected by your suicide. Anyways, I’m rambling. I’ll get on with the story:
When I was 17, I was coming home from the movies with a friend. The night was great. I was happy to spend that time with her. But as I was on the hour long drive home something negative just hit me. I felt numb throughout my entire body, I didn’t listen to music, I didn’t even really pay attention to the road. I just felt whatever was going on inside.
I was home alone, so when I got into the garage I just closed the door behind my car. I revved it once or twice. I just couldn’t stop thinking about all the shit that I’ve been through, what hell awaited me back at school, and how my parents and I were not getting along as great as we used to. Then I thought about how insignificant I was. I was (and still am) a nihilist, I knew religion was just a way to provide some people comfort while others rose in power. I knew that. I didn’t care if I was right and that I’d just become nothing, that I’d simply cease to be. And I didn’t even care if the alternative was true. I just wanted to end the overwhelming numbness I felt.
I sat back and waited. Eventually I was getting impatient. I cursed having a huge garage because it was taking so long and fear began to prickle through. The image of my mother sobbing on the ground, next to my car and my lifeless body came to mind. I imagined her screaming through the tears, trying in vain to wake up her only daughter. I thought of my dad, talking to me when no one is around and asking how I could be so selfish, and why didn’t I talk to him if I was in that much pain. I thought of my best friends and how they will never understand why I left them so suddenly and without saying goodbye. I thought of my friend that I had just seen an hour ago, asking herself for the rest of her life if it was somehow her fault or if she could’ve saved my life.
Something else bust through that temporary numbness. It was the feeling of being absolutely loved by so many people. Yes, I was being bullied relentlessly at school. Yes, I was fighting more often with my parents. Yes, I had been through trauma as a young child. But none of that felt like a justifiable reason to take my own life at that moment. I felt that love, and I felt a knot in my stomach begin to grow.
I calmly turned off the car, and went inside to shower and think about what exactly just happened. I thought of how close all of those things were to happening. In a way, I’m glad that when I was thinking about going through with it, I chose such a slow method. It definitely bought me time. I have many guns because my dad and I hunt together, so I’m forever grateful that I didn’t choose that method.
I almost committed suicide by carbon monoxide poisoning, but thanks to how slow it was taking, the thought of how much harm it’d do to the people I care for stopped me.
It’s been 9months since my husband took his life. I’m broken, shattered, unable to move on. I go through the motions of living but I still feel it was yesterday when I found him lifeless. I think about leaving everyday. I am hopeless and helpless, I have no one to talk to or anybody that can understand how this feels. Maybe today is the day I need to leave this realm…
This page is a graveyard. This page is where we come to die. We stop by for a fleeting moment, trying to write something of meaning, to express the void that encompasses our lives. Soon enough though, we get bored of this site to, and we move on.
“Could it be possible! This old saint in his woods has not yet heard the news that God is dead!” – Nietzsche
I have done terrible things
Things to make you shiver in the dark
Things that make even my own skin crawl
I want them back, to take them away
I hurt others, so badly I cry
It wasn’t me! I scream
It was them! I can’t help it!
Please, you have to believe me
The things that lie in wait
To rip me apart
To make me rend and tear
As they watch
It’s the demons that lurk beneath the skin
The ones only freed by razors
Death is to begin again
They beg me to stay
I beg them to let me leave
I don’t want to hurt you anymore
I don’t want to make you bleed
No you must stay
You must endure
You must continue the hurt
No matter what
Do you like it?
Is that it? Do you like it you sick bastards?
To see me hurt
Or is it you that you like to see hurt?
I trusted you
You stabbed me in the back
I loved you
You loved me
Is this what it’s all come to?
Lovely red swirls
Going round and round
I can’t forgive you
You can’t forgive you
You can’t forgive me
I can’t forgive me either
Sometimes I wonder if it was all worth it
Then I think of the times we shared
All of the kinds words
All of the times you saved me
I met you in a dark place
I met you with scars
Scars on both of us
Now where are we?
Right back where we began?
Or is it worse?
Can this ever get better?
I have to believe it will
She still loves me
She needs me
The last bird in an almost empty nest
Why’d you make me choose?
We were happy!
Why’d you have to choose?
I thought we were happy!
How could it end this way?
Nobody said it’d end like this
In public they kiss
A trap has fallen
The boy nervous he might miss
His heart has been stolen
The boy falls in lust
The girl sees her chance
He gave her his trust
Her lies pierced his heart like a lance
They last all night
Increasing the danger
Happiness never ends
Demons come in all shapes and sizes
A lie so bold
The boy believes
A truth never told
Another girl greaves
He wants to leave
She begs him to stay
She can’t believe
It turned out this way
Are there any monsters?
In the closet?
Under my bed?
In my head?
They want me dead.
Am I bad?
Of course not.
Then why am I sad?
I don’t have an answer hon.
Well I’m all done.
Done with what?
The battle is over, the monsters won.
What do you mean?
They’ve already killed who I was.
There Was A Boy And A Girl
There was a boy and a girl. The two of them in a world that does not forgive mistakes. The boy had just come to this place, a place unlike any other. He knew not what to do, what was expected of him, he was ignorant.
The girl had been here for far too long, longer than the boy could ever imagine. She had learned long ago this place was strange and could not be compared to others.
The boy came here with scars covering him, too many to count and too many to see. He knew pain, oh he knew it well. It was like a mother’s love to him.
The girl hated the pain, saw it for the poison it was, the way it tore through her.
The boy had met her a few times, fleeting moments in time, but he remembered her when they met again.
She had noticed him too, saw him in a way that was deceiving, painting him in a light where the scars were no longer visible. Then she had stopped. Stopped what? She didn’t know, and she wasn’t meant to. They had gone their separate ways, found others to spend their times with.
The boy had been happy, almost euphoric in the way he felt.
The girl had been the happiest she’d known in a long time. This continued for a time, this happiness, but it shattered for them both at the same time.
The boy had realized the other was not happiness, but he fought for it, for he loved the pain. Even now he loved it.
The girl, had seen her other for what he was, and, hating the pain, left. She found a new other, an other that would never let her down, an other that made her happier than she’d ever been.
The boy continued on with his addiction to the pain. Enduring every time when it got particularly bad.
The girl was flying, and she was certain this could never end.
Seeing through the pain, through all the lies he’d told himself, the boy ran.
The girl had seen through this perfect prison. Seen the pain that lurked beneath the surface. She could not run, no. This is too much to run from.
The boy was free but he was not happy, no there was no more pain to infect him with, but he felt nothing with the pain gone. His other had robbed him of the pleasure of sensation.
The girl began to hurt again, she had traded places with the boy and was beginning to love the pain. To love the thing that tore through all the perfection and the lies.
The boy realized he was a fool for never knowing her before. He regretted every moment he’d spent doubting her. He wanted her, and it was bad
The girl however, was in no position to reciprocate what she may have once felt. She had to say no, even as they pressed their lips together.
The boy felt happy, felt he had done good. He was so wrong.
She was back in love with the pain again the very next day. She told herself it would be different this time, it would be better.
The boy lived in bitterness from her rejection. He did many foolish things out of spite to her.
The girl sent him off to fend for himself.
The boy went through many changes, even partaking in the pain occasionally. He never did fall in love with it again though.
One day the girl saw through all the lies again. It terrified her to see it all so clearly. She called upon the boy to help her. To please save her.
Knowing what he must do, the boy did his best to ease the pain and suffering. He tried to help. He had gained her favor and her forgiveness yet again.
She was not ready to leave the nurturing embrace of the poison however, and the new friendship almost failed in that time. It was obvious what they had now was different than before however and it survived through it.
The boy saw what was happening, and made a bold move. He intended to recreate what had happened before. The electricity of their lips touching, two souls alone in the dark.
She pushed him away. It was wrong of him to try to do this, especially now. She explained why.
Having ashamed himself once again, the boy returned to his home. The boy continued his friendship, although it was greatly strained.
After she had thrust the poison away from her she regretted it. She wanted it back, was begging for it to return to her.
The boy wouldn’t let her though, he just couldn’t. He tried to help and he failed. He only made things worse in the end.
She could not forgive him for what he had done. How dare he? How dare he play the part of a god in her life? What gave him that right?
The boy left her, but the friendship remained.
It was a beautiful midwestern night, the stars shining in the sky like they only do in the country. The weather outside is unpredictable, as it always is here. A night that almost shakes with opportunity. A poor boy shares the time with his best friend. This night she is working, but he’s there talking to her anyways. They chat as easily as they always have, but something’s different tonight.
I’m not sure she notices that so much has changed, the way I look at her, the way my heart’s beating off my chest just being near her. All the small things, oh Christ. Just look at the way she pushes her auburn hair out her eyes, I’d never noticed this before but this minor movement is almost graceful coming from her. The slight curve of her wrist as she pushes the rebel hair back where it belongs. She’s perfect, I think it a thousand times just in one minute. I can’t help but look at her lips, so damn kissable. Perfectly formed to tempt a man to do anything just to taste them. I snap out of these thoughts quickly, that’s not what I’m there for. I’m there because when I talk to her she saves me, that when she smiles at me I forget that I’ve felt the worst of human emotion, that her laugh makes me remember the good times, however few there may be. God, I think, How could you ever take this for granted? How could you not tell her every minute of every day that she’s beautiful? This continues for hours, playful, casual banter being exchanged while I marvel at her. I’m just happy I’m not drooling on the floor like a dog, the thought leaves as quickly as it comes. I ask for a ride home, and she graciously agrees. My heart begins to pound like in the old Poe story, I swear she must hear it. However she drives me to my home in relative silence. She parks out front and by now my heart is beating so hard I think I have a bruised rib cage. “Good night,” she says. I do the last thing she ever thought I would do, I take her head in my hands, and I kiss her. Holy fucking shit, she’s actually kissing me back. This is no kiss fueled by teenage angst, no this is tender, sweet, and I never want it to end. She sits there, stunned, “Wow,”
“Do you believe me now?”
“Yes, yes I do.”
I lean over and kiss her again. After this kiss she whispers in my ear, “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”
“I’ve gotten myself into worse,” I reply. I step out of the car, trying my hardest to not let the biggest, most foolish, smile I’ve ever had show.
The boy sat alone in a dark room.
The world around him simply moved on.
The boy saw it happen, but he did not care to stop it
He had become a separate entity.
Something in the outside.
The outside was dismal, dark, crushing
He only returned there for the sick pleasure the pain gave him
He knew it was dangerous
He knew the risks
From the outside he watched home, and the world continuing without him
He saw it all and was almost content.
He saw it, hell, he looked down upon the world he once knew
But the part of him that belonged there.
It longed to be home.
The boy realized his mistake.
He was one of them
He did not belong outside
He could not survive
For outside was a poison
He saw what his time in this other place had done.
He was between the two worlds.
Neither held their original charm.
He had poisoned himself.
Eaten it like candy.
He hurt for a time.
His hurt came from the outside
He felt happiness
Happiness came from home
Could he still call that place home?
The boy felt as though he was beyond “home”
Not that it would take him back
He was kicked out
Like a problem child
For the warmth it once gave him scalded his skin
The light blinded his eyes
A lost child in worlds that did not forgive.
One day he met a friend
This friend was from the outside
The friend smiled at him
Lured him to the outside with the promise of a new home
This new home was a lie.
He was more torn than ever
He realized his friend was more demon than ally
He ran from the demon
He never truly escaped it
He returned to the in between
The boy of course met other travelers
He did not trust these strangers
And they did not trust him
For all the travelers had encountered them
And justly feared them
A cold and dark place
With only an unnatural brightness to show the way
For the boy it was a tower.
Others an asylum, a farm, a city, or an infinite number of things
It was the dividing
Point of the two worlds
An odd place for a nomad such as he
Perhaps he could have made it his home
But stability does not favor this boy
The tower, like all things do, collapsed
The boy returned to his old life as a traveler
The boy feared little anymore.
His life had become directionless
He feared only one thing
A life of solitude
He found another friend
This one much more persuasive
It told him to return to the place he still called home
The boy, suspicious yet weary agreed
He felt joy for the first time in years.
Perhaps he had truly returned
Scars remained from the demon, however
The boy realized he must leave, if only to spare his friend from a fate such as his
As he left his friend changed
Not to a demon
This friend was some horrible abomination
A joining of the two
It held him captive in home
And the scars shed blood once more
The boy, growing tired of his existence
Fought the abomination
The boy was horribly outmatched
Yet he won
For he fought with no regard for himself
Perhaps he would die
Death was too stable a fate for this boy
The boy walked on.
His only companion were the glowing footprints all travelers left behind them
This place was his lifeblood
Without it he would be dead
With it, he could not truly live
She knows not her true beauty, it astounds one to know that this magnificent beauty has no idea she is near angelic. Her skin a golden brown from long hours in the sun, her muscles toned from hours of exercise, soft auburn hair, and a face fit for a princess. This woman’s beauty permeates to the very depths of her soul, although few have ever seen it. A kind word from her is enough to intoxicate most men, and they often fall madly in love with her. Some men even revere her as a goddess
Yet she refuses to see beyond the scars she swears ruin her skin. She is right, however, these scars do exist, but they are on the inside. It’s a tragic scene. Her chasing the knife that gave her those scars. It’s as if she enjoys the pain it gives her. She thinks she is in control but she’s at the will of a real demon. She lives on a razor’s edge, and some days she leans towards heaven, others, hell. Very rarely does my muse achieve perfect balance.
This demon comes from the very depths of hell, a place where it is said even the devil dare not witness the atrocities committed there. This demon had once been human, but after its time in the pit it became the foul thing that infects the beautiful woman we see before us. It was not just tortured in that foul place, no, it was taught to torture as well, to inflict others with pain akin to its own.
The woman remains unaware of the intruder inside her. Ignorance is not her bliss, for as long as she does not know it inhabits her, it cannot be expelled. Her only salvation is to accept she has been possessed and expel the demon on her own. My efforts to help her have been fruitless, for the demon deafens her ears to my pleas.
As you may have guessed dear reader, I am in love with this beauty. She has captivated my heart in a way no other woman could. My thoughts always return to her, and many of my waking hours are spent contemplating how to attract her fancy. Now that she has been possessed however, I have noticed her losing weight at an alarming rate. She has also become more and more irritable and less sociable in this time. It saddens her suitors and I, for although this demon does not affect her outer appearance, it is rending a bloody path through the beauty her soul once held.
She loves the tranquility the water can provide her with. She is more at home on a beach than in any castle or estate. She has a love for the sea, yet the demon has poisoned even this. It makes my heart ache to see her in such pain. She can no longer find true happiness in anything she does, the demon has taken that from her.
I attempted to save her, begged the demon inside of her to strike a deal with me. It was a foolish move and now she has payed the price, for the demon did not appreciate my actions and apparently enjoyed its current home. Instead of leaving her it dug itself in deeper, rooting itself in the very base of her soul. As is did this it tore through her, wounding her worse than ever before. All I could do was watch in horror as the demon devours all she used to be.
Perhaps you expect a decent ending, and perhaps you deserve one. Sadly, I cannot give you one fit to sate your appetite. For this story has no end. It continues on even as I write this line.
She is beautiful. Oh she is not at her best at this moment, no. She wears no makeup on her face, her hair is simply pulled back in a sloppy ponytail, her nails with polish peeling off, and her outfit a menagerie of the most comfortable items in her wardrobe. Yet this woman is stunning. Her kind smile flashes quickly and easily, her hair still soft and flowing in the wind, her hands warm to the touch, and her clothing albeit unusual simply compliments her body. Her body tempts men, begging them to get up and do something, anything. The smile that lies only a moment away at any time lights up a man’s soul and makes him wonder how he ever survived without such a divine light in his life. Those hands warm men on the coldest of days, not only their bodies but to the very core of their existence. Her lips, oh God her lips. The are perfectly curved and a man almost regrets when they are hidden or forgotten by a smile. They look simply perfect to kiss, like they were made for that very purpose. Few have ever kissed those lips, for she does not give away such gifts freely, it must be earned, not taken. I know, for I have kissed those lips, felt them against mine. These kisses were nothing to laugh at, they were driven by an almost insane passion deep within me. Of course that was only once, and a long time ago at that. She is beautiful for all she is, more than just her body. The very soul of this woman is kind, nurturing, and radiant. If you need help she will be there. If you need a friend she will be one to you. If you need a word of comfort she will give you more than just one. She astounds me, her kindness continues although I have done terrible things. Things that keep me up each night. The kind of things that make one believe in monsters, not those that lurk in storybooks, no. The monsters that lurk in each and every one of us. Those are the ones I now believe in. They are not gentle, they do not care if it hurts, and they do not enjoy your pain. They hurt for no other reason than they can.
The Life Of A Lone Traveler
There is, and always has been two worlds, and in the centuries man has existed, very few have had the fortitude to walk them both. This is the story of one such traveler.
The boy was alone in his room, the lights off, and his shades drawn. He loved the intoxicating darkness. He knew that to be here was to be ready to go to the other place. This other place is only two steps away when he’s in this room. He took the first step.
The Outside was dark, but he knew it would be. He preferred the darkness; it left him feeling cold. There was also the force, an almost sentient thing that pressed in on him on all sides. The Pressure pushed down only hard enough to cause discomfort, for it did not want to cause its victims pain, no, it wanted to lull them into a false sense of security, like a poisoned lullaby. This almost dreadful pain had become his sick pleasure. He knew that one day this place would draw him in and he’d never be able to leave, but he continued his visits regardless.
In The Outside the boy thought up things that would make the average person’s blood run cold in their veins. At his tender age he became the deepest thinker of his time. His thoughts were colors in this other place. The boy loved the freedom this blank canvas left him. Instead of drawing upon a white slate this boy worked on a black surface to make it all the more vibrant. He became used to the cold of this other world and when he returned to Home he always felt feverish, even the coldest day in Home could not match the bone chilling cold of The Outside.
He saw the beauty of Home, for it was a warm place where even the most horrible of men were swaddled in the deep, nurturing, love of a mother. Home was also stunningly beautiful; almost no shadows existed there, a place that existed almost without fear, pain, hunger, or famine. The average boy felt immense joy in this, a joy akin to euphoria. Our boy instead felt disgust at such a weak place, a place where intelligence was greatly ignored and innocence was the norm, not the exception. He could not stand the naivety of it all.
He continued his visits to The Outside, drawing great masterpieces of thought while he was in the darkness and cold. He understood things that the “adults” of Home had been fighting over for as long as man had existed. He uncovered vast, hidden, secrets. Whatever god there is in that dank, cold, and lifeless place had obviously touched this young boy’s heart, and frozen it in his chest. Perhaps he could have been saved, if he had just waited longer between. Instead his visits increased in frequency and duration. Damning him to a fate worse than death.
One day the boy took the steps necessary to go to The Outside. He had just returned to his sanctuary after a day worse than most. His father had gotten that glint of rage in his eyes- the glint that only comes when he’s on one of his benders. He grabbed the boy and threw him into the nearest wall, causing dust to fall from the sheetrock. The boy had taken it, with no emotion in his eyes, which only infuriated his father to a point beyond measure. ¨What makes you think you’re better than me you worthless piece of shit!?¨ He had screamed. Even in his normally sobering rage, he had slurred his words. His father had slapped him and returned to his stupor. The boy went to The Outside, but today he felt none of its normal comfort. He only felt the true horror of this place, and for the first time questioned his motives for returning to this place. He no longer loved the Pressure, instead it terrified him in all its monstrosity. He knew he had to leave; this place had poisoned his heart, he had to go. NOW. He took the first step and almost took the second. He saw Home, in all its splendid glory, but he also saw all that was wrong with it. He looked behind him and saw The Outside, a stark contrast to the heavenly scene in front of him. He took a step.
This step took him directly to his left, for he knew that those two worlds were no longer his to walk. He looked behind him and almost screamed when he saw the glow. He looked closer and saw it was in the slightly deformed shape of his feet. He walked on, believing he was now ready for the surprises that awaited him.
He had been walking for a time, perhaps it had only been a minute, perhaps days. He had no way of knowing if it was day or night. The boy had originally been terrified, but had quickly realized that this place, a place he had begun to know as Inbetween, was outside of either worlds’ time. He simply dragged on, his only way of knowing that he’s progressing was seeing one foot go in front of the other. He had noticed the floor for the first time since he had begun to walk the endless plains of Inbetween, that the floor was a gritty, sand-like gray material that was displaced with each step he took. There had been times when he thought he had seen a huge figure in the distance. He quickly dismissed this as a hallucination from the exhaustion he must be feeling. It must be fake, he told himself, nothing but shapes made by my tired mind. Only, he didn’t feel tired, hell, he didn’t feel anything really. He ignored his momentary discomfort and kept walking ahead. One foot in front of the other.
After a great many steps the boy saw that the looming shape in the distance was growing, which disproved his earlier belief that it was simply a hallucination. He made it his landmark and he began trudge his way towards it. As he got closer he realized that what he had been seeing was a tower that kissed the sky of this desolate place. With each step he took he uncovered another secret. First that it seemed to go on forever, second it was made entirely out of a stone that is black as night, and third, that it looked as though it was nearing the end of its existence.
He arrived at the tower with growing anticipation, perhaps he would find someone to share his time with, or maybe a terrifying monster. Either way, he believed he was prepared to face what awaits him inside. Walking up the stone steps he noticed that none of the gritty material that makes up the ground of Inbetween had found its way onto the stone. He approached the great wooden door, a door so large it should have taken six men to push it open, but when the boy pressed upon its surface it swung open on well-oiled hinges as if it weighed no more than a feather.
The interior was dimly lit, the light seeming to come from nowhere. The stone was oppressing, making the boy feel true claustrophobia for the first time in his life. He enjoyed it, for it reminded him of The Outside before he had realized the pure poison that world is. The tower was not furnished, it only had small alcoves from time to time where one could rest. The boy felt the stone and it began to steal his heat almost before his skin ever touched it. He knew what this place was, he knew it was the anchor for the two worlds, a place that has certain characteristics of each of the two worlds. As soon as he entered the tower he had felt an almost loving embrace, not quite that of a parent, but that of maybe an uncle or aunt. He was weary of this place forever, he had learned his lesson since The Outside and had no ambition to repeat his previous mistake. The boy spent a time inside the tower, again there is no way to truly measure time Inbetween, but knew to leave once his heart grow cold.
Making his way away from the tower, and the footprints he had left behind, the boy contemplated the existence of such a place. He wondered silently if it could fall, surely not, if it fell the two worlds would surely be doomed to collapse under their own weight. He knew however, that the tower had seemed to be on its last legs, and worried for the future of the worlds regardless of whether he inhabited either any more. It never occurred to him, however, that the Inbetween would suffer as a result of a collapse as well.
It was many steps later when he met the other. He had been terrified out of his mind when he had seen their shapes, for he now knew to trust his eyes in this place. As they neared one another he saw it was a man and a child, this man was obviously not the father of the child, but looked at it with love akin to that of one. As they neared each other the boy cried out, “Hey, HEY! Are you real!?” The man appeared not to have heard the boy for a time, but the he replied, “Boy if you don’t shut your damn trap I’ll leave the kid here and throw you into the darkness of Oblivion.”
“Is that what you call it?” The boy questioned
“The dark place, Oblivion, I call it The Outside.”
“Humph, good enough name as any. Now get away from us and walk, do your best to forget us if you can, and if you can’t don’t look for us.”
The man and the child walked away, and the boy noticed that their footprints glowed a different color than that of his own.
That was, and remains to be his only encounter with other people in the Inbetween. He stood there looking in the direction of the slowly shrinking shapes, he did this until the were but mere specks on the horizon. He slowly turned around and continued his journey forward into the unknown. Never to see the man and child again.
After a few steps the boy broke down sobbing. He had no warning it was coming, but at the same time he knew it must, for how could one not cry after all he had been through? The pure injustice of what had happened to one so young burned through his veins. The tears he cried burned like acid. His throat hitched, trying to force up the pain that had encompassed him. He almost wished for his father’s beatings, anything would be preferable to the solitude of this place. He lost what he thought what was all of his innocence while he sobbed. He was wrong of course, there is always a little more innocence left to lose.
The boy decided to return to the tower. To him it was his only home, his only constant. He followed his footprints, and noticed that he had been lazily creating arcs in the gritty material, like he had been drunk. I’m just as bad as Dad ever was, he thought, and I’m not even drunk. Shaking his head, he moved forward, impatient to be at the only place he believed he could ever call home.
As he grew closer to where he believed the tower stood he noticed that he could not see the behemoth. He became worried, and for the first time since he had begun to walk, he ran. The boy ran as if his life depended on it, like all the hounds of hell were at nipping at his heels. With each stride he grew closer to knowing what he already believed, that the tower was no more, that some terrible force had finally collapsed it, like a child with their toys.
Arriving at the stone steps he saw a large shape, yes, but it was not that of a tower, it was that of a mountain of rubble. Rubble that seemed as black as night, and that stole heat from the bodies of young boys. His face burned with fury. The only place that could have become a home had crumbled while he was away. The dust entered in his nostrils, stinging them; he welcomed the pain as an escape for this hateful reality. His face felt the unfamiliar wetness of tears. He wanted to scream, but knew there was no sympathy, and no one who cares in this unforgiving land of Inbetween.
The boy stayed among the rubble for a time. He does not know what compelled him to stay, but he obeyed it regardless. While he was there his entire body seemed to get covered in the dust left from the now crushed stones of the tower. His tears had long since stopped, and the only mark that they were ever there was the muddy trails they had left on his young face.
I’m terrified, no idea where to go, what to do. I don’t want these people to think I’m some loser after only a few days here, and to avoid that I have to find a place to sit, and fast. I think. Hey, there’s that Sidney girl I could sit by, at least that’d be somebody. So I go to sit at the table that seems to be mostly girls. I take a seat next to a girl with dark hair, and I’m kind of in the middle of the table. When I sit down I see a few girls, one with dark hair that’s kind of pretty but is a little big. A girl with what’s that color hair called? I don’t know, but she’s pretty and has glasses. There’s Sidney, with her stick thin body, large glasses, and familiar face. Finally there’s a skinny girl in what I think are yoga pants, seems like she’s a dirty blonde, but who knows anymore?
It’s maybe a month later, and I’m with Maria at the football game. My heart’s beating out of my goddamn chest and I’m happy as I can be. It’s a cold and bitter October night, and that little bit of a bite is really starting to hurt. We went to the dance, and that electronic pop crap was playing. I paid my two bucks to get in, but nobody was there so Maria and I decided to leave, along with Cassidy and some other people. We go to the playground that I’ve been to at least a thousand time, the worn tires gleam in the moonlight, and the wood is as dull as always. We start playing a game, I can’t remember what it’s called, or what the rules are, but it’s fast paced and my breathing’s starting to get a little bit heavier. We all grow tired of this game and meet up at what I’ve always thought of as a boat in the middle of the playground. Somebody suggests we play truth or dare and of course we agree, it’s a high school classic. Sometime during the game the girl with the hair color I still don’t know the name of, and a guy that’s probably her boyfriend shows up. Their turn comes up and the guy picks her up and throws her over his shoulder. A twinge of something, jealousy maybe? Shoots through me, but it’s quickly forgotten.
Another day, another stupid argument. She accused me of looking at other girls, and she’s putting on a nice face while we sit next to Hannah and Cameron. I’m so sick of this, but I’m putting up with it. I don’t know why, but I am. I keep stealing glances at Hannah. Of course it’s wrong, and a little bit of me hates myself for it, but I do it anyways. She’s just so goddamned good looking, and I feel something in my chest. I ignore it, and barely register that it’s there. The meal goes on like normal, but something’s changed.
Ah shit, spilled a little bit of my drink in Hannah’s car. Hope that piece of trash I’m covering it up with is absorbent. Maria’s to my left, Cameron’s sitting in front of me, and Hannah’s driving. Goodwill was fun, I think, Haven’t had that much fun with other people in a long time. We’re on our way to this place, Plaza Mexico. I’ve never heard of it, but we’re going, and apparently it’s my birthday. When we got there, I saw it was a pretty nice place, the outside really is deceiving. I order this huge burrito, and who knows what Maria’s ordering. I keep stealing glances at Hannah, I’m not even aware I’m doing it anymore. God, she looks good tonight. We have some of the most natural, and easy coming conversations I’ve ever had. It’s a good day. I think to myself, with a dumb smile on my face.
We go to Wal Mart, like any good double dating teen should. I’m feeling like hell, why can’t they just shut up about how terrible of a boyfriend I am? The girls are going off on their own, and all the while I’m looking at Maria I’m noticing Hannah on the edges of my vision. I don’t know how, or why, but we end up by the cd’s and video games. I wander off, deciding to go to the bathroom for a bit. I need a break. Once I get in there, I notice that nobody else has decided to occupy the cold little room with me. I stand, looking in the mirror while the water runs. I’m such a terrible person, why can’t I be like Cameron, why can’t I make this stop? I go outside, hoping nobody sees me. I’m walking around the cd’s for a bit. Well, maybe I wasn’t walking around, maybe I was hiding from the others. The little bit of solitude I managed to build up is destroyed once Cameron finds me. He says he was worried about me, and I almost believe him. We leave the store, my little episode obviously put a damper on the night. On our way home I decide to tell them, I have to. “I’m depressed, and that’s why I disappeared on you guys in Wal Mart, I was feeling down and needed to be alone for a bit.”
“That’s okay,” Hannah says, and I forget what she said after. All I know is I felt a little less terrible for a bit.
What am I supposed to do? I ask myself. I’m sitting on the white couch upstairs, and I can’t stop thinking about how I broke up with Maria. All of the sudden I get a text from an unknown number. It says something about how there’s a rumor going around that Maria’s pregnant, and it’s mine. When I ask who it is all they say is, “I’m a friend.” I wear them down eventually though, and I find out it’s Hannah. Why would she help me? After Maria hit her all I did was say terrible things about her. All I know is that I have one more friend in this world.
I’m walking up to Shell, feeling awkward because of the earbuds, the t-shirt, and the fact I’m walking up mainstreet. I’m a little worried, I don’t know what I’ll say when I see her, or what we’ll talk about, but I keep walking. When I get there I’m not greeted, I even crack a joke about the terrible customer service there. We talk for hours, way longer than I thought we would. I end up walking back home because her shift ends after my curfew. I feel a lot better about how I’m doing now.
God it’s hot, and these fucking flies. I’m sitting with Hannah next to me, she’s kind of smiling but something’s wrong. I can see it in the way the smile’s only skin deep. Cameron shows up. Of course he does, can’t leave his girlfriend alone for too long. She knows how I feel about her, and I’m trying to avoid the elephant in the room. We spend the entire day manning the table and the cash. Well, I did. They wandered off for a while, found out later that they had a huge fight.
I just spent maybe the last two hours sitting on the counter in Shell, talking to Hannah. She’s giving me a ride home, had an early closing time today. When we get to my house something happens. I don’t know what, and whoever or whatever does is much smarter than I’ll ever be. I lean over and kiss her, trying to remember that she doesn’t like full on makeout sessions. I hold her head in my hands, trying to make sure she will kiss me. She kisses me back, and Goddamn does it feel good. I kiss her a few times, I don’t remember how many, but not enough. Right before I leave the car she whispers, “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”
“I’ve gotten myself into worse.”
She’s coming to my house to pick me up. I think the feelings are all gone, and I’m surprised as all hell that she’s actually willing to see me after a few months of complete silence. I grabbed a second mountain dew for her, but apparently she’s quit pop. We end up at the park where this all began. It’s just the parking lot, but it brings back a lot of memories. Not all of them good. Sitting on the curb and talking feels good, ridiculously good. The feelings are back, of course they are. How’d I ever think they were gone?
It’s happened again, only this time she’s a few shades tanner and single. She’s coming over to pick me up, and we’re going to talk. When she gets there I see her little sister’s in the back seat. There’s barely enough time for me to buckle my seatbelt before we’re off, apparently we’re going to the “Blue Park.” When we get there, she sees Tatum and the next second we’re out of there. I don’t know where we go, or how many different places there are, but I do remember that we talked. We talked about all the old pains these places brought her, and I feel guilty for how badly I want to kiss her.
I’ve never had a friend like you.
A person that will be there for me when I truly need them.
That deals with my insanity.
That is proud of me.
That makes me happy, just by smiling.
That likes Ron Pope because there’s so much meaning in his songs.
That quit pop.
That I love.
Hey you! Yeah you! Wanna know something before I continue on with this thing? You don’t? Well piss off, I’m doing it anyways. This is going to include more than just her, it’s going to be myself as well. Maybe a deviation from my usual style, but maybe that’s a good thing.
Her hair is pulled behind her hair in some sort of braid. It rests perfectly behind her neck and trails down the back of her blue shirt. She’s ignoring me right now, but that’s okay. At the moment she’s manning the register and she’s doing something that I’m confused just looking at. This menial task, something that no beauty or grace should be found in, has been turned into something of an art. Something perfected after being performed more times than one cares to count. It’s almost soothing to see her work, the way she’s totally comfortable in what she’s doing. Those eyes, usually so captivating, have been captivated by the bland task ahead of her, and I love it. Something in me snapped a long time ago, and now I see her here, just working, and it makes me happier than anything has in months. Maybe those clothes she is wearing are meant to be bland and unnoticeable, but when she wears them they become the single most beautiful articles of clothing this world has seen. They seem to compliment every slight curvature of her body. Their colors work with the natural tones of her own skin to create the beautiful picture I’m trying to depict. It’s not the clothes that make this change happen, it’s her. The simple aura she seems to exude, an almost palpable thing that can either lift your spirits, or break your heart. She raises you up when all others thought you were irretrievable, she makes a man contemplating taking his own life think about why life is still worth living, and most importantly, when she smiles, you smile. Sadly, or maybe luckily, she doesn’t realize that she can have this affect on others. Doesn’t seem to see what just her presence will do to lift the pressure off the backs of those around her.
When I see her, my heart beats faster in my chest, the world slows down a little. Then it happens. My head seizes, along with my muscles. I want to release that tension so damned bad that I’d nearly break my fingers to be rid of it. Yet I want to feel this every day for the rest of my life. I want to see that face I know so well every day, even if it brings on the worst agony I’ve ever known. I can’t tell you why I want her so bad. Maybe it’s something I control, maybe it’s something above any mere man. Either way, I am at the whim of my desires, and I’m trying desperately to fix what chances I once had. The chances I ruined when I became entranced with that smile, the way it seems to light up the room, no, the whole damn world. When I saw that hair pulled behind her head, her face perfectly visible to any available eye, I was a gonner. I’ve had dreams at night of being closer to her, just being able to talk to her like I once did. Maybe that’s all they’ll ever be, just dreams, but I can’t accept that. I can’t live with thinking that I really don’t have a chance. Not when she’s saved me from my lowest lows, and brought me to my highest highs. Not when we’ve shared our deepest secrets. Especially not when my heart still beats like it’s about to burst out of my chest when I think of the time we kissed. I can’t let go, and I just don’t want to.
I look at her through a veil. This veil does not impair my vision, instead it improves it. It improves it so that I may see every damned beautiful part of her there is. I lied, it does impede my vision. It keeps me from seeing all the imperfections, the flaws in her. Her soft hair cascading down her back, nothing restricting its movement. Those eyes, staring deeply into your soul, while somehow not looking at you at all. The way her lips made my entire body sing. How they made my mind forget all of the horrors I hold within myself. When they curl themselves into a smile that seems to light up the entire world, but most importantly, they light up what I call a soul. Nothing specific about that smile can be called perfect, every little thing, along with the imperfections, is what makes it into the beauteous thing it is. I swear to God she never wore a bad outfit. Every single thing I’ve seen her wear has complimented her completely. The way her hands seemed as though they could make all the pains, all the scars, all of the goddamned tears disappear. Being near her could make my soul stop its pitiful screaming and realize the true beauty of this life. the demons that lurked beneath the surface that anyone who didn’t know her would swear weren’t actually there. How they once tore her apart. Made her something like me. I’d love to be the one to banish those demons, to make all of the hurt and pain be gone from her life, even if it cost my own sanity. Thing is though, that what you’d love to see happen is so very rarely what happens. It’s the truth in this case, I can’t deny that. She still goes on feeling her pain, and I can’t do a damned thing about it.
Alas, it is over. there is no chance for redemption, not anymore. It is nothing that I have done, no great transgression or offense. We’ve simply grown apart, as is so common with people our age. It saddens me, God, it almost breaks me from the immense sorrow I feel at her loss. Maybe it was never meant to be, and maybe I once had a chance, but those times are far behind me. I cannot, or maybe will not, place the blame solely on her or myself. I recognize that this is not solely the fault of either of us, and that the blame could be spread between her, some outside, unrecognisable force, and myself. I will say, that for a time, I loved her. I felt something that I thought would never betray me. I thought it would last forever, but as the old cliche goes, “What goes up, must come down.”
I see you through some kind of film. Something that prevents me from seeing the imperfections that are there. The most simple answer would be that it is the naivety that has caught men better than myself. A more complicated answer would be that, through some mix of emotions, feelings, and history, I have become stuck on you. Not stuck in the way that the demons within me prefer, stuck in a way that is actually enjoyable. To write about you is one of the pleasures in my life, and I honestly couldn’t ask for a better muse. Perhaps it is the film that makes you so easy to write about, that puts the words I need within reach. I’ve been told my writing has improved as of late, and this was by a close friend of mine. I’ve decided to write about you again, and to do my best to capture your essence in written word.
Walking down the hallway, with your eyes clearly focused on what is before you. You don’t wish to see whatever demons may surround you at this moment, and your wish is granted. The haunting memories that every step seems to hold, the faces that evoke emotions better left forgotten. Scars from the past exist outside of your body and mind. They stand out like an ugly bruise on the world around you. You want to scream for it all to stop, to just make all of these things go away so you can exist in peace. Is there such a thing as peace for you? Is it even possible at this point? Those eyes, which have seen so much pain and hardship, captivate my attention. It’s so dumb to be captivated by such a fleeting moment in time, but I can’t resist. Your eyes go right past me, and that’s nothing more than what I expected. This glimpse inspires thoughts of times when the pain seemed to be banished from my mind, and the scars erased from my soul. Thoughts like these have started to fade from my mind as time goes on, and I struggle to hold onto the memory of the way your auburn hair looked in the summer sun, with the wind running its ethereal hands through it. And the way your face looks when there is nothing to light it but moonlight and the dim glow of a distant streetlight. The bruise that sometimes shows up on your throat for God knows what reason. Your voice singing a song I fell in love with because you introduced it to me. Skin that has not yet tanned to the golden brown you were when you returned from Florida. Lips I’ve described more times than I can count, and thought of almost every day since mine brushed against them. But I am a Beast. Nothing more than a shadow made to look like a man. All this Beast wishes is that you can be happy.
A Terrible Apology
She stands there, a broken heart. A lone soul stranded in a sea of emotion. Goddamn if she isn’t beautiful in it though. Her hair moves gracefully with the wind coming in off the lake. Normally she would have tied it behind her, but today such formalities seemed unnecessary. Her eyes seem as if they are on the verge of tears, but she is still beautiful. She is almost more beautiful for all the pain she is in. Her skin has tanned from hours in the sun, and her muscles have become toned from the hours she has spent sailing and maintaining her boat. The world has stopped itself around her, the sun embraces her and the wind lightly tugs upon her clothing. Her shadow extends itself behind her, much taller than her. The trees dance in unison as the autumn wind travels through them, a few leaves fall from their branches and lazily drift down to the unkempt grass. Lake water sparkles with a light similar to the one inside of her. Waves lap at the shore below her feet, bringing whatever treasure the current drags in to rest mere feet away from her. The smell of unpolluted water drifts its way towards her. This scene of pure beauty does not ease her pain, no, this moment carries with it memories of days past. Days that were happy, and filled with laughter. The pain had been forgotten in those days, hidden away, but never truly gone. She had found happiness and fought for it with every ounce of strength left in her body. Yet she could never have guessed what would come next, the fights, the screaming, the tears, and the lies. Oh she is not innocent, no, but she is sorry. Begging for forgiveness and wishing to atone she had truly been wounded. When she was at her most vulnerable, her most trusting she had been hurt. Even the one who thought he could help, who thought he could ease the pain, had only made this pain worse. For that he is a fool, and paid for it with loss of her favor. No apology may ever heal the wounds he caused, but he wishes to take it back, every mistake he ever made, every wrong word ever said.
It’s hard, nearly impossible, to describe the way one feels when they are with her. It cannot be grasped from a single emotion or moment in time, but comes from knowing her. How, when you talk to her, you can be honest, but you cannot be ignorant. Or the little jokes and common things that always seem to be there. A humor with the occasional sadistic twist. Difficulty to make her smile, even in the best of times. Something that isn’t quite being cold, but isn’t any form of warmth. The way that little bruise in the center of her throat always comes back, persevering on for some unknown reason. Her hair auburn color, that is so very rare in this world. Sometimes you can almost put a word to it, something to describe this feeling from the basest, most instinctual, part of you. Then it’s gone. Maybe it’s preferable to never know, to never have a name for what that is. But maybe it’s better if you know, if you can say, “Yes, this is what I feel and nobody can take this away from me.”
I don’t know whether to cry or laugh. I’m so god damn done. I’m done with living and feeling like absolute shit.
Yet, I can’t even kill myself. Or cut myself. That used to be my escape and now it doesn’t help at all.
Today, I kept jerking the car, knowing my step father would feel pain. And I wanted him to. I wanted him to feel a fraction of what I feel everyday.
And my half sister wouldn’t just shut up. I screamed at her. And I would’ve kept screaming at her but my step dad told me to knock it off.
I wanted to drive the car off a bridge.
I think that’s how I’ll kill myself.
By driving my car off a bridge, late at night.
I hope they never find my body, or if they do, I hope it’s absolutely broken and bloody.
So that when my family goes to identify my body, they see how I felt, all my life. Broken, ugly, useless, lifeless.
Not like they’ll care.
And I want to run away. I hate it here, and I never want to come back.
Can I come live with someone?
Forever and Always,
The Girl Who Needs More Help Than Can Be Given
I’m just like sitting here. Just sitting on my bed and thinking about all the things I should do, but I don’t want to move. I don’t have the motivation to do anything. Every other sentence in my head is “What’s the point, I should just kill myself.” I mean I don’t want to do anything, I feel lifeless. It’s not like anyone wants me, I don’t even want me.
I don’t know what I am. I feel like saying I’m depressed will be an insult to those who have it worse. I don’t know what I want from life, I just know that this isn’t it. Sometimes I try to pinpoint the exact moment in my life that I became like this, then I realise I was always this thing. This thing that doesn’t deserve to live. I know sometimes the best people we know think of themselves as absolute trash, but believe me I’m a terrible human being. I’m toxic. I keep hurting the people around me, especially my mother. I find myself getting annoyed at everything she does and says, and like the sarcastic bastard that I am, I say hurtful sarcastic things to push her away. Maybe it’s because after several attempts of trying to get her to understand what I’m going through, after writing essay length letters of how much I’m hurting, after telling her I might end my life all she does is reply “I’m happy you decided to open up to me,” and then everything just goes back to how it was. I’m pathetic aren’t I? Nothing changes just because you want to, people don’t care just because you want them to, things don’t happen just because you wish hard enough. What’s even more pathetic is expecting people to save me. Because really who can? What can she do for me, really? Did I expect her to come, hug me and tell me not to do it because it would kill her? It just sucks when your mother doesn’t care if you live or die. At times like these I rationalise, tell myself no mother would wish their kid were dead. Then images of Hitler and his mom pop up. When your child is a bad person, wishing they were dead doesn’t make you a bad person, does it?
I’m trying to be better. I always wish I were a better person, but wishing never works, and old habits die hard. I take the initiative to be better, I do do so for a week or so, and then I fail miserably and I am back to this terrible thing that I am. Why can’t I just be better? I just want to destroy the bad in me, but I have a feeling that that is all that I am. I am so sick of hurting people. I am so tired of feeling like this, I am so tired of being me, I am so tired of feeling bad. When your death would bring about more happiness than your living ever would, that means you should do the honorable thing and make yourself go away isn’t it? This seems like the only good thing I could ever do.
“Others imply that they know what it is like to be depressed because they have gone through a divorce, lost a job, or broken up with someone. But these experiences carry with them feelings. Depression, instead, is flat, hollow, and unendurable. It is also tiresome. People cannot abide being around you when you are depressed. They might think that they ought to, and they might even try, but you know and they know that you are tedious beyond belief: you are irritable and paranoid and humorless and lifeless and critical and demanding and no reassurance is ever enough. You’re frightened, and you’re frightening, and you’re “not at all like yourself but will be soon,” but you know you won’t.” – Kay Redfield Jamison, An Unquiet Mind: A Memoir of Moods and Madness
I have a tendency to rationalise. If I’m depressed, that means that there’s something wrong with me, and it isn’t my fault that I am the source of people’s annoyance and irritability. It means I’m not bad. It means I’m just sick, and that’s comforting. But I’d always feel as if it were an insult to others.
Just wanted to share some love to all of you who are struggling.
Maybe you feel like you can’t go another day. You feel like taking your last breath. You feel the weight of the world on top of you, caving in on your chest. You feel it so much it’s went from just being mental, to a real physical pain. You feel you don’t belong or have a place in this world. You cry yourself to sleep some or most nights. You have suicidal ideation. You think about what this world would be without you, and probably feel it wouldn’t even notice your absence.
I’ve been there! I go through it myself! Not today, but believe me, there’s been days and weeks of being in such a dark place I don’t know how to live my life. Forget a day at a time, I sometimes can’t function in the very moment. I question everything. I think about how I’d end it. We’ve all probably perfected it in our minds.
I’m here tonight just asking you to hold on. Don’t give in, and don’t give up. I’m not going to give you some spill of it’ll get better. Because even I know it’s sometimes a load of shit. Pardon my ‘french’.
I’m asking you to hold on, for me. I’m a selfish bastard. I need you! Without you, this world would go one shade darker and colder than it was before, and I can’t handle it any darker or colder than it already is. I hope you stay strong. I hope you carry on, if nothing else, just one more day longer. You guys are what make this world beautiful even if it is sometimes dark and cold. Without us, who’s there to give compassion, heart and soul into this lifeless planet. I love you!
So don’t give in, I’m selfish. I want to keep you! lol
Hope everyone has a good night. Hang in there…
I dont think anyone can hate me just as much as i hate myself . ive been rejected so many times for so long i honestly end laughing at myself because idk why im putting up with . i dont even know why i continue to look live with depression . someone that is alone like myself will never beat depression or ever find someone to care about me. Sometimes i just sit and imagine to myself how my life would be if i wasnt alone depressed or being with someone special to me but reality is always outside of my mind .im finally begining to wear down. Idk whats the point of my existance . idc if i overdose , kill myself or die in anyway i have become almost immune and numb because if anything happen i think i could be in peace or in hell but idc cus if god Is the one making me suffer why the fuck should i want to see him . i dont have anything to lose except my reality, loneliness and depression. Heres to hoping god finishes me off and ends this cruel joke i call my life.
My life has been layed out for me since I got out of middle school. “Take these classes” “Join this” “volunteer there” and I never had a say in anything. Recently I just got a tattoo. I am now a high school graduate. My mom found out and all hell broke loose. Of course being the person that I am I just sat there took all the beatings, and verbal abuse because in her mind I ruined myself. She told me to stop hanging out with everyone I’m friends with, don’t contact them anymore, and she took away my chance to go to Virginia for dance. I haven’t been so sad, depressed, devastated, and all those words that lie along the meaning of lifeless.
It’s been almost a week since that day and I see all these posts about enjoying summer, and hanging out with friends or getting ready to leave for vacation. And I can’t even leave my house anymore without being full on checked from my room to my phone to all my social media posts. I feel like my life is just a big doll house where I can’t control anything anymore. Even the way I dress is being changed. My life is worth nothing now. I am nothing.
The question I ask myself every morning is who am I? And the sad fact of it all is that I don’t know who I am. I never knew. I never found myself to explore and go out and do things that I actually like because I was so limited. All my friends tell me I’m a house child and they’re not wrong. Most of the time I find myself inside my house being verbally abused once again. All that anyone in my family says, “why aren’t you skinny” “why are you stupid” “why are you a disappointment” “I wish I could just die then to see you here disappoint me” that’s all I ever here now.
A couple months ago, actually a week before my birthday, I flipped my car. I was driving to schoo one morning and I swerved off the road and ran right into a tree. I came out with no scars or bruising, just a bump in the head and a sprained neck. But looking back, I wish I died. I wish that I never woke up. I wish that something could’ve just crushed me. I don’t have the strength to kill myself, but everyday when I drive I find myself going 40mph over and wondering if I could just swerve off again.
None of my friends want to talk to me anymore. I bet they don’t even care. I think it’s cause they’ve heard it all before and they’re just annoyed about it. I get it. I’m a bother, and just stupid and redundant. I guess my family was right though I am a burden to everyone’s lives. Maybe today is the day. I don’t want to live this world with knowing I’m just a walking mistake.
they say ignorance is bliss, and for a long time i thought they were stupid. how could people who are completely unaware be blissful? Wouldn’t they thirst for the knowledge of this world.
but as I grew up, i realize more and more how true this is. How often do I now wish that I knew less, that I dreamed less, that I could be a part of this world in a way I now know I never could be.
I am a victim of my own mind. Trapped in a lifeless body yet wrecked with dreams of vivid colors and greater adventures. A spirit yearning for freedom and a chance at happiness, encased by this miserable body unable to control its own destiny. I wish i could be free of this jail, this life, this existence i built for myself. Back then, I always thought that It was my spirit that was dragging me down, the darkness in my soul anchoring me into this hellfire I breathe in daily. But now I realize, it is my very body, jailing me from flight.
Everytime I think of doing it, of freeing myself, I have always postponed it.
“Not yet…” I keep telling myself. “Not yet…”
“Have one last kiss with him. Make love one more time. Have your favorite meal. Tell him I loved him once more.”
Now it just all seems so pointless… these mind rituals I keep on holding on to for dear life. I feel braver now.. more fed up with the disappointments of life. It feels easier to just… go.
Maybe then, at least for one moment in my life, I AM THE MASTER OF MYSELF,
Maybe then, for once in my life, I could be the person who is in control of my fate, not someone else.
I am so tired of somebody else controlling my destiny.. what I can and cannot do. I am tired of living for somebody else.. of seeking purpose in this from the approval or affections of someone else.
One of these days.. I can be brave. I can finally take the freedom that has been mine all along.
Its been a very rough past few months for me. Hell who am I kidding, its been a very rough past 7 years. I just havent been able to catch a break. It’s been one thing after another. When it rains it pours? Yeah it’s been absolutely pouring down on me with no signs of stopping. Still looking for that ever non existent light at the end of this tunnel. Yet everytime I get to the point of no return I somehow am still here to live it all over again the next day. I have wanted to die for quite some time but I guess I havent had the strength to end things. Lately I have been so numb and figured the end was finally thankfully near. Instead though, I had a couple days where I wasnt feeling that urge to leap. I dont know how or why, but it was the first time in a long time that death wasnt hovering over me. That changed quickly though.
I walked into a restaurant by my house last night. A restaurant that I have been to a million times and literally go to 3 or 4 times a week. As I walked in towards my usual booth I saw something out of the corner of my eye and completely froze. It was her. The one woman who I have ever truly been in love with and who I walked away from 8 years ago. Im pretty sure I didnt breathe as I just stared at her sitting there. Its like I was in a daze for what felt like an eternity. I had not seen her in 6 or 7 years, yet she looked the exact same as she did the night I left. She looked up and saw me and waved me over. We talked for a few minutes and exchanged pleasantries and then I made my way to the booth. I felt sick, physically ill, and couldnt eat. I just sat there as all of these memories and thoughts from a past life came flooding in.
Isnt it funny the hold and power some people have over your life even after all this time? We were together for five years and I broke it off. I had been just starting to fight the depression, anxiety and ptsd back then and she had a very big anger issue. I got to where I couldnt handle it anymore and left. Now Id do anything to be back there again. Ive made many many many mistakes in my life, but leaving her and letting her go was one of the biggest. Two years later I suffered my accident and have never been the same. I miss her greatly but I miss the man I was back then just as much.
She is now married and having a succesful life and I am doing the opposite of living, whatever that may be. My depression spiraled right back out of control later that night and is back to firmly holding me in its lifeless grasp. Funny how she is now the familiar voice and squeeze in the night. I dont see myself lasting too much longer. There is no change, no getting better. Maybe seeing her was somehow the motivation I needed. Funny, isnt it?
You laugh in my face when I tell you how messed up I am?.. When I try to explain why I hurt because you ask what’s wrong with me? No, what is wrong with you?!?! Why laugh at someone who is clearly destroyed inside? Oh, that’s right I forgot I’m nothing but a joke to all that surround me.. I’m sorry I disappoint you. Maybe, one day when you see me cold, blue, and lifeless, you’ll feel a little better about yourself and won’t be so god damn self centered for once… Fuck you too!!! Fuck it all!! Sorry I’m such a fuck up! Done…
Just kidding. I have a method, although alone, I loved you.
I really, really wish this would end. I am pretty tired. You, know. That’s a good way to describe it. I am tired.
Holding on, is hard. I just can’t end up failing again. Hearing my mom scream, and cry. That and the hallucinations I experience were basically hell to me.
My mom is a strong woman, she’s been through her fair share as we all have. She doesn’t cry . Seeing her finally cry for the first time in years, because of me, because of my lifeless body .
I can’t experience that again, and , even if I do not fail. I can bear the pain she’ll feel that I was actually dead. If there is an after life, that’s terrifying to me. Because I can’t escape my mind, the reason I want to die to begin with. It’d be a failure no matter what. I would be suffering even more so.
Please just change this life. It was going so good. You finally saved me. Then left… It
Shouldn’t have been this way. 20 years and I never accomplished anything until I met you. Why would you leave, and consider it fates work?
It doesn’t make sense… This can’t be real. I can’t sleep. I am eating so much. not treating anything right. im dying. again.
please. come back and save me .
Don’t leave me here in the darkness because I wont survive again.
To my friends, thank you for being there for me. I enjoyed our chats. I’m sorry I haven’t been around the last couple months. I thought about you often, and wish that I could have had time to come on here and be a “regular” again. You helped me through some difficult stuff, and just talking about it with you guys and hearing opinions was very helpful.
To those who are struggling with this life: try not to give up hope. Things CAN get better. Many of you are just in bad situations. Bad situations that are TEMPORARY. As the old quote goes “Don’t fix a temporary problem with a permanent solution.” I know that some of you are in a different situation, and that things just can’t improve, for whatever reason. I hope that you can find peace, either to keep going, find a reason to live, or find peace in Death’s embrace. I just wish you peace.
For me, there was no other solution. My situation was not a temporary problem, because you can’t bring people back from the dead (not without horrible consequences, hahaha). I died when he died, my body just didn’t realize it. I’ve been dead for over a year now, and yet still breathing, walking and talking.
No more. I found my resolve tonight. I should have died back in August when I slit my arms open. Would have been better. I feel like an asshole.
To my family: God knows if you will ever read this, but if you do, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I ruined an already really shitty Christmas. I’m sorry that this had to happen. I’m sorry that I failed back in August. I’m sorry that Jack died. I’m sorry that I didn’t KNOW it was bad and didn’t call the ambulance right away and break down the damn door. I would have given ANYTHING to save his life. I’m sorry that I couldn’t live for YOU, but he was my everything. I love you all dearly, but you are not half of me, like he was. When he died, it was like someone sliced off my right arm and leg and just left me to flop around like a dying fish. If God were kinder, I would have dropped dead the moment I saw his blue, lifeless, terribly still body. It haunts me to this day. The way he looked. The love of my life, blue and splotchy and laid out on an ER bed with a breathing tube taped to his face. I thought I had suffered enough in my short life. God took away the one person who ever stood by me. The ONE person that I could always count on, even when we were fighting. He was my everything. And I’ll risk my soul to be with him again. Pray for me. Tonight I’m going back to my husbands arms.
I love you Mom. I’m so sorry.
Noah, I love you. You need to grow up and take care of mom. This is your moment. Don’t fall into despair. Tell your friends to fuck off and stop giving you drugs and booze. Get clean, help mom, be a good person. You have so much to offer, but you’re not gonna do shit with your life if you keep using.
I won’t be here tomorrow. To those really needing a way out, look up dry ice, but please, don’t make any rash decisions. If you can find a reason to live, or if there’s a hope that you’ll ever be happy, please consider. I’m going home to my husband. All I ever wanted was to be in his arms. We’ll be reunited here soon. But if you’re NOT TRULY in a hopeless situation, please try to hang on. The world is cruel, but there is so much love and joy and happiness that goes with it. I wish you all the best.
EvilKitten aka Wendy aka Wenchire