I feel like crashing into a tree. Thoughts?
What I did while in a dark ugly pit for four days:
— After not eating for a whole day, parked in the cemetery and listened to THIS until the sun went down. It’s my number one dark-pit-of-depression song because the warped ugliness is so obvious, and the video is bizarre.
— Took what I hoped was a lethal dose of Tramadol. Didn’t receive a lot of SP notice and ended up deleting the post, figuring I might as well go on my own. Also deleted the previous post about leaving a suicide note. No comments on that one anyway. Considered driving with a brain full of Tramadol and speeding into a tree at 75mph.
With my luck, seeing double (or triple or quad), I would have sped into the wrong tree and ended up in the middle of somebody’s field.
I could just imagine it:
Approaching Farmer: What seems to be the problem, little lady?
Me: I seem to be sinking into your field.
Farmer: That seems mighty unfortunate, seen’s how I just finished fertilizing it this afternoon.
Farmer: And other things, yep.
Me: Can I borrow your shotgun?
— Went home.
— Woke up.
I have about 80 Tramadol left.
I like the fact that Tramadol rhymes with “Damn It All”.
I am still not okay.
I was standing outside staring at a tree and realized that tree was doing more for the world than I am. There’s no reason for me to be here I have nothing to offer. My life’s a joke.
Can’t say I’m surprised but weekends are gonna be slow again.
At least I still have this bottle of silver tree to keep me company.
Actually that’s kind of expensive for a Monday, maybe I’ll grab the jager.
I have so much I want to say. You don’t know me at all. But for now all I’ll say is this.
i asked my mom for three things for Christmas. Three little things. I wanted to drive an hour to see a light display. I wanted a small tabletop tree to decorate and I wanted no gifts, from anyone. She did none of this. We have no tree. I didn’t and won’t get to see the light display. And I have gifts from my grandparents and am elderly great aunt and uncle waiting. I don’t feel worthy of gifts from these people. I am chronically ill and we are poor. The people who gave me gifts pretty much already support us and I want no more from them. Ironically, I have no gifts or cards or even calls from my brother, sister, or father who do not live with us. They are not poor and don’t otherwise help. In fact, I was left off of a Christmas card my sister sent to my mom, but that is no surprise. She disowned me (hasn’t spoken to me, told my mom I was not welcome in her home, etc) when I got sick. There is also no gift, not one, coming from my mom. I would be okay with that if she’d honored my requests, but she didn’t.
i don’t think I can handle this. On Christmas Day it will be worse. I will try and ignore the day entirely but I am not sure it will help.
may post my full story later, but had to vent now.
I don’t think I’ve felt complete in years. All there. Like something gnawing at my brain — chewing on it. A hamster or a rat just munching away bit by torturous bit. Like watching a horror movie where everyone dies at the end — you know — but you have to watch them die one by one. Or that moment on a beach when you see the water pull out for a couple kilometers out and it dawns on you — you’re impending doom has found you. Gnawing. Selfishly away. Over time the little cretin becomes more confident and begins to take bigger bites no longer feeling the need to hide or play subtle because it has you. It has you. It knows it. You know it. I know it. Found a tree where the cretin doesn’t seem to be able to reach. The rodent doesn’t like plans or heights. Especially plans made at a height above its misery. Some would say rope a dope. Dodge some more punches. Its got you up against the ropes so use the rope for momentum to deliver a straight right to Death’s jaw. I’ll use the rope for momentum alright. This. This is a rope to cope but not for hope. Nope. The tree gave me an approving nod when we settled our agreement eye to eye. The knots of the wood wouldn’t whisper not to which was a surprising comfort. An outstretched branch almost chose me as it looked down upon my mental rodent with disdain. It knew my pain. So. It continues. Gnawing. Biting. Chewing violently. Yes, God, lead me not into temptation and deliver me from this unwelcome visitor. Guide me to my rope to cope.
Last year I was so lost, depressed and broken that I decided it was my time to leave this world. I wrote my letter, cleaned my room, grabbed the rope, jumped out my window and ran. I went into a forrest, began to tie the rope around the tree and then around my neck. In front of me was a massive empty, dark field. Behind me was a giant fence with houses behind it. I saw flash lights in the corner of the field in front of me so decided I needed to jump right away but then I heard a bang from above me. I froze watching as a lady threw her unwanted dinner over the fence, and went inside. Now was my time, I could see the flash lights getting closer, now half way across the field. I took one last breath, looked up and jumped. My jacket got caught on a branch and as I was half hanging there I suddenly felt hand on my back slamming me against the tree stump. It took me a while to realise what was happening. It was a police woman holding me up as her colleague was trying desperately to get the rope off my neck. Turns out someone had seen me enter the park with a rope and called 111 to be safe. The following 20 minutes the Police woman sat with me in the car, holding me, talking with me, crying with me as I broke in her arms. She came with me in the ambulance and sat with me in hospital. It finally came time for her to leave to another job so she grabbed my phone punching in her number, calling herself and telling me she was going to text me in the morning to see how I was going. I was at my ends, I hated my life, I hated myself but while in hospital I couldn’t stop thinking about the way she cared… It didn’t make sense to me. Her last words before leaving the hospital stuck to me and still do to this very day “You were born for more than this, you have not lost hope as hope cannot be lost. You have simply been blinded from seeing it, now its time to renew your vision and see life for what it really is.. An amazing and beautiful adventure.”
Today, over one year later she walked into one of the cities biggest gyms asking to speak with the manager regarding a missing person who was a member at that gym. That manager was me. Today, I got to see the woman who saved my life. We both burst into tears at the realisation of who the other was and at how different the circumstances now were. At how I could not look her in the eye, at how I could now smile and most importantly at how much I love my life. Today I realised how much has changed, I look back on the times I was so sure that there was no hope, no moving forward. But there was, and I found it.
Her name is Constable Campbell and she saved my life. There is ALWAYS hope. I promise you.
Her long body made an indent upon the small bits of clover and grasses as she propped herself up on her elbows. What in the actual fuck is she going to write about today? All her brain is shooting are blanks, and her fingers feel awkward as they hit each computer key. It’s like trying to thread a tree trunk through the eye of a needle. “O” by Coldplay blares into her ears as her brain desperately tries to make something beautiful, something stunning, just something… But that’s the thing about making something beautiful. You cannot force it. Beauty comes from patience and time and lessons learned. She takes her time… Just as a beautiful story takes flight within the girl’s mind.
It is mid-autumn, and the world is beginning to wane. She can feel it, as can her friend. They wander aimlessly through the wood, just swapping stories and enjoying each other’s company. A smile touches her lips. Their feet make crackling paths through the dying leaves, paths that lead to no where, yet everywhere. No where because there is no where to go, but everywhere because there an infinite number of beginnings to take. A gentle drop on her hand startles her- rain. A full fledged grin takes flight on her lips, and she flashes her newly found grin towards her friend. He returns the gesture just as the down pour begins. Grabbing each others hands, they dance about like a pair of fools, enjoying the life that the rain has given to them. She notices the way each tree sheds it’s rain sodden leaves, one by one they venture on. She notices the way the rain hits her nose and rolls gently down her lips. She notices how she has given her friend a piece of the star from inside her, and he now glows with it’s light. As they slip and slide through the golden tinted wood, the rain ceases, and the sunset begins. A glowing orange-, one that warms you through your sadness. The two friends stood side by side and watched as the world faded into darkness once again.
I have never been alright and I never will be alright.
And tonight I lack the strength to even move
When you walked, now watch me die
But I know this is harder for you
For love has let you down and come on
And no, you’re not alone
And the road ahead is lined with broken dreams
So walk, yeah, walk on by
And I failed to give you everything you need
For the fear’s behind your eyes
When I cant feel you
I’m not alright, not alright
When I cant heal you
I’m not alright, I’m not alright, I’m not alright
When I cant feel you
I’m not alright, I’m not alright
Yes, Jesus as you throw me on the rocks
And for love I left your side
‘Causer I believed in love and beauty’s wiles
Where heaven shone from your eyes
Chain me to your tree, I wanted you to see
I wanted you to see, I wanted to believe
You chain me to your tree, I wanted you to see
I wanted you to see
So tell me that it wasn’t all for naught
Its such a waste now, its such a waste now come on
‘Cause I know you’re scared but baby don’t you hide
Its such a waste, you’ll stand alone now, you’ll make it somehow
once upon a time
… there was a girl , soo confident one , passionate , strong , powerful , attractive , with a SMILE upon her face all the time … she was drawing on a wall … drawing a TREE and a CROW …
listening to Breaking Benjamin “Had Enough” song named …
a guy … we’re staring at her .. with an idiot look .. looked soo stupid to her ,, and she didn’t care …
then she had a cup of coffee with him and few friends .. he was a friend of hers .. he tried to impress her .. so he said he loves That band named “Dimo burger” (I don’t know if spelling is right and I don’t think so) but she got upset then .. anyway; she went back home to find him added her on Facebook … that is back at 21/4/2013 …
the day they met …
to be continued ..
and tell me guys if you want me to continue
Or maybe I just need to drive my car into that tree off of the highway.
Peace to sky. Sky to earth. Earth under sky, strength in each, a
cup full, full of honey, mead in plenty. Summer in winter, spear over shield, shield
over fist. Fort of spears; a battle-cry, land for sheep, bountiful forests
mountains forever, magic enclosure. Mast on branches, branches heavy, heavy with fruit,
wealth for a son, a gifted son, strong neck of bull, a bull for a poem, a knot on
a tree, wood for fire. Fire from stone. Stone from earth, wealth from cows, belly of
the Brú. Doe cries from mist, stream of deer after spring, corn in autumn, upheld by peace. Warrior band
for the land, prosperous land to the shore. From wooded headlands, waters rushing, “What news
have you?” Peace to the sky, life and land everlasting. Peace.
Where do I start?
In a way I feel I have no right to be here. I’ve tried talking to others but repeatedly told my problems aren’t as bad as my sisters. Just first born problems I guess, feeling sorry for myself. I can’t fuck-ass around anymore, this is reality. As if I need to be told. Is my parent’s divorce reality enough? How about my sisters cutting, real enough for ya? how about not being able to sleep without feeling guilty about something: being a burden to my dad, an ungrateful daughter to my psychotic mum(emotional blackmailer, physically abusive to my sister and dad, compulsive liar: Told the doctor that my dad kicked her out from beneath her legs and punched, strangled and kicked her in the head. also said that that’s why she has a lump in her throat.)
I can’t really talk can I. There’s kids in Africa, my sisters STD’s and health problems, my dad working his ass off to provide and getting harassed by my mum as well as anyone else who is a friend or associate of his. I’m not strong enough to cut, I’ve tried it but it just wasn’t satisfying. Tried hanging, but I couldn’t even get that right. Stepping out in traffic, no too pathetic to do it.
When I finally tried reaching out again I got told that my sister has it worse than I do. She has health problems this, She cut’s herself that, She gets bullied, she has STD’s, she has asthma, she’s an epileptic, She was physically abused and so on. Yep how can I compete with that. I have no right. I was told that at least I have my art and drawing to turn to for expression, all she has is cutting. You have talent to do something, she doesn’t. Yeah, sure. Art is an expression, a talent, an emotional support. But It’s a passion, I use it when I want to. If I feel like shit I’m not gonna want to paint or draw. I need to be irrational. I may not succeed in cutting or hanging, but I found something I can do that will never see the light of day.
I punch the tree in the backyard every night before I go to bed, the old 1-2 until my knuckles bleed. My resolution. I always wear these finger less gloves that covers my knuckles, so no-one can ever be suspicious. the follow up bruising and pain compensates for things I do during the day that I get wrong or can’t do right. Like every other day, just being a fat useless blob of crap. worthless and insignificant. Even writing this has been a form of “fuck-assing” around. That means an extra dose of tree trunking my fists tonight.
I’ve grown up privileged. I’ve always been provided with whatever I needed and I have two great families, which is two more that most people have. Nevertheless, I can’t just keep “living” in fear of being a monstrous disappointment to my families. Doing myself in would mean 19 years of a wasted investment of time, money , love, friendship etc. So Ill just keep punching the tree until I’m numb enough to get to sleep. Pathetic right.
I’ve suffered from depression since I was a little girl. My real father molested me, abused me physically and emotionally, practically leaving me scarred for life. I’m now 15 years old and about to finish my freshmen year of high school.
Now here’s that twist that brought me here:
I started cutting when I was 10. It was a complete accident, I was working with my step dad and cut my hand. We bandaged it up, but that feeling of something like relief stayed with me. Suddenly, I’d purposely find ways to get myself injured. I’d bump into tables, fall off my skateboard, jump from a tree; anything for that relief.
One night, everyone was asleep. I woke up to get a drink and saw a knife on the counter. It hit me, “Why not save myself the issue of looking for ways?” and I started.
No one noticed. They believed the lies, it was the cat, I fell out of the tree, the dog tackled me. One day, my parents found some poems I’d been writing. The first few were happyish, they praised my talent, until the found my first depression poem I attempted to write. I was just about 14 years old.
I stopped for a little bit, they told me they would lock me up if I cut again. Then they stopped checking, and I got worse.
Then, I met this really cute guy, we started dating, and I fell in love. I still am to this day, we’re together and everything. I haven’t cut in 4 months, which is more then I’ve ever done. However, things are building up again and I want to cut. My boyfriend doesn’t know about any of it, I never wear shorts so he can’t see the scars on my thighs and shins. I always have a t-shirt on, so the scars on my upper arm are unnoticed.
Lately, my parents are fighting nonstop. My step dad thinks he may move out and my mom’s burying herself in work. My friends only talk to me when they need help, I’m always last on their list. But I still pretend to be this happy go lucky girl, something I’ve become rather good at. I want to cut, dear gods, I need to cut, but I’m scared that I wont be able to stop. I’m scared that I’ll go as far as killing myself, because I almost did last time.
You complete me, T
I want to fill your ass with semen in it’s entire T.
Yes you inspire me, perhaps it’s your sensuali T.
Yes, you will see, it’s your oppourtuni T,
I need to embrace thee. There is no shame in modes T,
I need to say what is true to me. You are the pinnacle of sexuali T.
I will be your tree, anchored with roots of stabili T.
Whether you are he or she, I will stay by you for eterni T.
I love you to the the 3rd degree, and all of your ecentrici T
So come let’s be free from the restraints of socie T
Live with me in ecstacy, embrace my love, and experience liber T.
I need your lifelong comapny, be with me T.
Hey, Dead Girl!! Don’t cry for me.
It was a tragic existence,
this life you leave.
No ones to blame , but this for sure,
They hated your beauty, something you misunderstood.
You lived in a Bird cage on your own accord.
A cage of ugliness,
With an unlocked door.
They called you “fat”
They called you “whore”
But it was false, you never felt the touch of a lovers hand before.
So….. To your tormentors,
You sow the seeds of that mornings ghastly, ghoulish deed.
It was at the bus stop,
For your prosecutors to see.
You hang by your neck,
From the limb of a tree.
Please Dead Girl, Don’t Cry For Me.
Who’s to say the way that I think is wrong?
It may be different to you, but why is different wrong?
Maybe I’m a step above you on the evolutionary tree.
Compassion is a trait commonly found in the losing side.
“Have you thought about harming anyone besides yourself?” Frequently.
“What do these thoughts consist of?” I want to know what their insides look like on the outside.
The disgust in your eyes. The way your lip curls without you even noticing.
I’m what you’d look like if you didn’t care so damned much.
don’t you dare label me
Read a children’s book called “The giving tree” and I realized how cynical I am. But honestly am I cynical?? The worst is reality is it not? Of course there are brief moments of selflessness and kindness in the world but those are hard to come by. The book angered me, it made me feel pity because I saw myself as the tree. This tree that gave absolutely everything it had to a person who could careless. Yet even in the end, after everything the tree was still stupidly happy. I’m fucked up in so many ways that sometimes I don’t know if I can save myself or even love myself. I have trust issues and they are really bad I have realized that. I’ve been depressed lately more so the last few days but I can’t tell if it’s really me or if its from the drugs. I read this quote that really resonated with me, “It wasn’t the way we left each other that was so heartbreaking. It was the way I left myself.”. I’m upset because of what I’ve done to myself upset because I don’t have any true religious beliefs, I want to, I try to, but I fail.
I used to love the sound of rain. It calmed me. It drizzled through the leaves in the tree in the rose garden when we huddled together and ate sushi one afternoon. That is all gone now. Gone forever.
I can see her dancing in the yard with nothing but a big floppy hat. The rain made her happy. It washed away all of her tears and all of her fears. There are no more tears. She is no more.
How I loved to walk in the rain. Walking for miles on end. I could leave everything I hated, and that hated me behind. I was free.
I know because I hear it on the roof. But that is all I can do. I can’t walk in the rain anymore. Everything hurts so much I can’t walk anywhere. I don’t want to live anymore. I hate going to bed because I will wake up every hour in so much pain I cannot breathe.
But it’s raining. And I don’t fucking care.
The leaves are blowing past my window; each of them a tiny leap of faith off the tree to their golden death below. A beautiful suicide…
I made the leap off the tree. I tried my best to fall to the ground, graceful and sweet… But I got scared. I turned around and held on again.
A life spent living for death, but too afraid to die.
I wonder if I’ll ever be able to fall to the ground or if I’ll just rot away on the limb…