I don’t struggle everyday or every waking moment of my life. I’m not always writhing in mental agony ; I’m not always sad & depressed. This facts should be a good thing, it should be something I’m proud of…so then why am I not? Why does it scare me instead that I have moments where I’m who I should be, a normal girl? It’s profound in my mind that I should be alarmed over the fact that I’m not constantly broken. Do I know why? I wish I could say I don’t have an idea but I do. I wish it wasn’t because of the fact that my fucked up mind can’t seem to even be good enough to be constant at being ill. I’m the definition of a fuck up…at least my mind is.
I just read through a post on instagram of a girl I recall following cause she and I had something in common. Cut marks. Just saying it gives me shivers . I hate seeing them and I get angry when I do. On anyone. They are not pretty & they are shameful…but despite all that, I can’t seem to not seek solace through it. To be honest, I no longer know why I do it. Some part me is sure I’m narcissistic towards myself. I’d rather be in the shadows of my pain than allow myself to think I can get better ; that I can do better… The girl in the post looks like she’s doing better, a whole lot better than I am. I hate that she can expose her marks which are a whole lot more than my tinnie tiny scars …i can’t even seem to make a substantial insition on myself. I can’t say exactly why it upsets me but it does. Maybe I’m just not ready to go into the dark part of my mind that has an answer to that.
Right in this very moment, I feel tormented. I feel wrecked… In this moment, I could care less if the dishes were pilled up in the sink. The ‘ocd’ I feel is what keeps me a float. I relish on the little control it gives me . Whether it’s in making sure there aren’t dishes in the sink or that the house is spotless or that everything is in its rightful place. I could care less right now about all that. All I feel is this hollow sinking feeling inside that’s itching in my mind.
I was fine approximately sixteen minutes ago. I was a float on my little boat of normalcy but I’m now not and it’s all cause I saw that post. The girl from the instagram post looks like she’s at a consensus with herself…or maybe not. Maybe her struggle allows her to have a smile on her face while showing her scars. It seems impossible ,at least from my eyes it does. Guess that’s what it feels like to feel the shift of a trigger .
PS. I don’t feel like I fully have expressed myself. I feel like I could erase this post and every little feel in me. This caption feels better of an explanation of what I am trying to relay to you. Whoever you are.