Allow me not to be ‘remotely perfect‘ right now. To not be articulate with my words for I’m certain I don’t have the right words to express exactly what I’m going through. I’ve racked my mind and sort through it of ways to express what I am constantly feeling but I’ve come short of words. Ironic really cause words are always all I ever have.I can’t afford the standards I usually often put for myself whenever I write. I can’t promise I’ll complete this post or that it’ll make any sense or that it’ll mean anything at all. I’m just taking a shot at hoping that whatever I pour out will slightly ease the emptiness & hollow feeling that’s becoming of me. I wish I was numb. I truly do. I wish I wasn’t feeling or itching or urging for the things that are enveloping me right now. I feel wrong, I feel torn & more now detached from reality than ever before… cause this, this shouldn’t be my reality.I’ve read it over and over again but it gives me no comfort to read ‘it’s okay to not be okay’. I don’t want to not be okay. I don’t want to find comfort from accepting that I feel destroyed. I don’t want to feel any comfort anymore in my pain. No words known to me can measure up to what I feel. None can describe how paralyzed I feel & how immobilized my state of mind is.I’ve thought that maybe if I could rip off my hand, I’d have nothing left to hurt. That if I could finally chop it off, it’ll kill the urge to constantly look at my self inflicted scars. Or that maybe if I wrap them up, I’ll no longer have to feel the ridges everytime I graze my palm on my wrist. I’m trying, I’m battling but I can’t promise I’m winning.So to conclude whatever this post is, I’m breathing through surviving. I’m a shell of myself & a lot of the questions I have tried asking myself as to how to get out of this, I have no answers to. I hope it’s no burden to anyone who reads this. It’s heavy, like every other feeling in my life and I would hate to burden anyone else with my being. So I apologize. I apologize that I’m a 🐚 of who I hope to be.
I mourn a lot, or maybe I should say I’m always mourning. I don’t mean the bitching kind… No.. I mean the kind where I’m a wreck & constantly tearing myself into wretched pieces… I’ve grown to revel in the pain it gives me. The self pity and the constant swirl of heartwretching emotion is the most I ever get to feel. So in some sense, I’m grateful.I wouldn’t call it normal. Not at all. I hate the thought that it would be normal for everyone else. It’s my specialty ; my light, the one thing I’m honestly very protective of. It’s my defining factor. Makes me my own special little girl. I’m stuck in the realms of a fourteen year old & an incredibly fucked up twenty-one year old…and maybe I’m okay with it. Being stuck that is. Or maybe I’m not okay with it & I’m just sick. I really can’t tell anymore.Do you know why I mourn? It keeps those I love with me, even despite the fact that I can no longer be with them. It’s a lot like when one misses a friend or a lover who isn’t there at that particular moment. I just like missing my loved ones with the surrounding pain their absence gives me. I like to completely drown in & feel it cause it’s all I feel I have of them. Maybe a lot of people feel the same but I honestly rather not know if that’s the case. I’m selfish when it comes to letting go. Why the fuck would I wanna let go? I’ve lived torn apart since I can remember, why would I wanna let go of all that I’ve known…‘ love, time, death… Let’s begin now… …’ I’m still very much a fourteen year old little girl who’s definition of pain no longer means struggling for air, no, she had the air knocked right out of her lungs & her heart slowly twisted out from its cage. Let’s not forget, I’m still very much the twenty one year old girl as well, the one who misses having a best friend to talk to. Still the very same girl yearning to have a fairy tale romance to sorta neutralise things in her life. Yeah ,still pretty much all that. But I’ll always be mourning, forever probably. Maybe, I’ll just learn to not show it out so often.P. S I don’t write this for any sense of pity. On the contrary, that’s the least of my intentions.
I had all this planned out in my head & I had the words spilling out of me a second ago, but now I’m pretty sure all my words are out the window. I should probably start by admitting that I’m one walking confusion. I’m worse than a wave because my ‘tide’ just never seems to hit any less harder at any one moment. I don’t have a calm is what I’m trying to say. In less than a week since I wrote, I feel like I’ve felt everything & it’s breaking down my walls. That, is some scary shit right there. I’ve been told time and again how much my walls don’t protect me but instead they cage me in and imprison me. What most people don’t realize, is that I don’t mind being caged if it means I can shield any sort of ‘ray of sunshine ‘ that’s gonna start of nice & calm and in the long run, it’s gonna scotch me just cause I let myself think I deserved it.
I apologize for my sacarstic metaphoric nature here. To down it down a little, what I’m simply trying to say is that over time, I’ve learned to embrace how diversely fucked up I am. Trying to cut myself some slack by thinking I can change that that’s become my nature, only ever does more harm than good. Humans are scared of change. Probably the one other thing I can say I relate to that proves my humanity isn’t all that different from the rest of the human race. I feel like I’m caught between worlds right now. I’m in a realm of my own and in time, I’ll need to jump out of it. I’m just not certain where to jump to and what it might mean for my bleak mind .
Emotions are deceiving. I can honestly say that is one thing I have come to learn the hard way. They blind you from reason, even if it’s right in front of you. I want to jump where my emotions are telling me that the ride of a lifetime is right ahead & maybe, just maybe, in the midst of the black hole I’ve been falling in for so long, there’s some ray of light. But I’m scared, petrified even . Jumping or in this case free falling with the hope of not feeling any more pain is a risk I’m not sure is worth taking. The outstretched hand that is reaching out for me to just grab onto it has me tempted to pee in my knickers… Then there’s the other jump, that really won’t be much of a jump since it won’t need me to leave my ‘prison’. It assures me that I won’t have to feel pain further than I am accustomed to. It assures me that nothing will change. I’ll be behind bars that will close off any scorching rays or unfulfilled hopes of any light at the end of my hollow black 🕳. It assures me no sense of change, cause it’s exactly what I’m afraid of.
I don’t wanna ever say that I failed cause I never gave hope a shot. I don’t know how long I have before I have to jump or before ‘my walls’ are penetrated (oh that sounded so wrong 😬😂) but I know stalling won’t cut it for me. I could either embrace the change and run the risk of completely loosing my mind at the end, or I could live to wonder whether things would have been different if I did jump. I know that outstretched hand won’t always be there, and as much as it scares me to reach out to it, it’s beginning to scare me more to loose it.
This is getting exhausting. I’m all too familiar with this feeling, it’s soon going to drive me to the blink of death. It’s beginning to physically ache me. From the not so subtle tummy aches, to the sleeping too much. That’s when I know I’m drowning all over again. Just when I was beginning to catch a bearing in my sea of monsters, just right when I was rising above the swarm of hands working extra hard to pull me down. Here I am now ,back to feeling broken. Maybe I was just never put together as I thought. It just needed a little nudge to break me further into tinier pieces .
Allow me to make a confirmation here and now. If I never get to figure out what happiness for me will entail, allow me to walk into death at least peacefully. I rot inside each time this tide chooses to hit me every so often. Eventually ,a girl’s gotta give up and quit trying right?! No longer will the nudges from friends hold me together forever. If I can’t fucking stand on my own, when I’m I ever gonna learn how to walk away from this.
Twenty minutes later….
I wanna say I feel a lot more relieved but it’s just the ache in my chest that’s gone. The demons in my head are having a field day since they succeeded .I gave in to what’s become a part of my sad reality. I gave them my pain & my blood. They seem to only feel a sense of satisfaction when I feel a fraction of physical pain. They are appeased when I trade mental calmness for a few drops of my blood through my hands. I’m weak and I know it. I no longer fight it since its my only solace for now. I wish I could quit having “normalcy streaks ” every so often. It would make it less hard for me when my demons awaken. It would lessen my anxiety a notch enough for me to figure my way around it. The sense of normalcy just becomes a mirage since its so tuned out & blurry when my demons awaken. It’s truly not worth the feeling of a false sense of reality and relief.
I have no apologies anymore to give to anyone for my choices. Only in my cage, would one understand that you gotta do what it takes to survive.Even if it rips you apart .This, this is my survival.
Its been a hot minute since I last wrote but I’m guessing that didn’t really matter to most or anyone for that matter. I could have been dead for what it’s worth. My God I hate my life. Anyway, I’m not dead if you may still be thinking so. Death right now feels too infinite for me. The part me that I wish was more optimistic and even slightly hopeful believes that somewhere out there, there’s something for my wrecked soul. I may not see it now, but I at least have hope there is.
I want to say a lot has happened since I last wrote but technically, it’s not been much at all.. It’s more of my emotions that deceive me to thinking a lot has happened, since I wouldn’t be here if things were any easier for me. For those who might not know this ,I write when I’m most fucked up. I’ve created such an illusion for myself that I have been trying to have things under control but here, I don’t have to decive myself. It’s been a hectic couple of weeks, everyday is utterly ridiculously differently fucked. In the span of two months, I’ve gotten casual at ‘self hate ‘.I don’t have anything more to say on that, apart from that life’s shit, I’ve gotten over it, you should too …or not. Anyway, back to what my weeks been like ,I met a boy ,majorly got a crush, he was a douche like they all are and now I’m getting it sorted by plotting possible murder for the emotional turmoil I’ve felt for his sorry ass. My God am I gullible and dum right, I fell right into that one didn’t I? Cute boy, cute enough smile and just the right amount of asshole in him… Mercy’s perfect dose of stupid.
Over time, I’ve learned that there’s quite a lot of things that my lack of self love acts as a disadvantage for me. I’m so emotionally dependent on those I love, I pour it in torrents, I have zero left for me. Just to put it out there ,I’m a cling lover so try not getting me in love with you or remotely infatuated with you…God knows I wish I could understand what exactly it would mean for me to love myself more than I put into loving others. I’m my own undertaker. I dig my own grave and bury myself in it. That’s what gullibility is for me. So here I am, ready to cling to any one or anything capable enough of loving me for the both us. Sad isn’t it,,,Que pity party ,,,,,where’s my blade at ??
So for my gullibility to stay on a leash long enough for me to understand the complexity of self love, I’m gonna put my head down and try ‘hate’ people instead .Maybe, just maybe, it’s about time to let in a little bit of no love.
It’s been thirteen days … I don’t have a general term to express what those days have been for me… In honesty, they have been a blur ….typically my normalcy. I laughed ,I interacted, I left the house, just my typical blurry life. But, despite all that, I haven’t cut. Wish I could say I felt proud of myself but truly it doesn’t feel much of a win because it doesn’t rule out that I still thought of it. In every single day of those thirteen days ,it crossed my mind. Felt like an unfinished piece of myself I kept leaving out. Sad how much of it has become part of me now.
I wish I felt worthy enough to fight this waging war in my head but I’m not sure where to start. Everything is at a pause. Can’t seem to bring myself to sit through therapy again, just extremely exhausted to keep going on in circles with it. I’m done being cliche about this. I’m done writing about it despite it being the only possible outlet I have for my emotions & thoughts. I’m exhausted and just want to rest. I’ve lost focus on how normal it is to handle life’s challenges without needing an escape. I’ve quit trying to be strong. I don’t know what it means to be okay. I now understand what it’s like to have a cloud shadow over my head because in all honesty, I can’t focus on anything besides the voices in my head. That’s my depression, that’s my battle. I can’t keep trying to act normal when my mind keeps tipping over the edge every chance it gets.
Thirteen Days . In the last ten minutes or so, this thirteen days would have been irrelevant. They would have held no sense of importance to me. With a slit of my wrist, those thirteen days would have been twelve days of my ‘sobriety’ down the drain. I read somewhere that relapsing doesn’t mean I failed. It doesn’t mean I didn’t make steps forward. Well, if it doesn’t mean failure, what exactly does it mean? Not really expecting a response or an answer for that matter. Just cause I can afford a smile on my face, doesn’t mean anyone can see the pain & hollow fade behind my eyes . I’m not sure I want anyone to see it anyways .
I’m waiting it out. Waiting for the storm that’s coming. I can feel it. I’m not done falling. Until I can get the strength to hold on to something, anything, I’ll keep on falling, I’ll keep on sinking deeper into the depths of darkness that’s my mind. For now, I am hoping to keep up my facade till after my birthday. Not that it’s as important to me as I wish it was prior. I just don’t have it in me to feel excited about it. So until then, I’m gonna fake it. I’m gonna stand under my heated shower & pretend to wash away the waking ache to cut. For my birthday, I will pause that fall. Can’t promise I’ll make the most rational decisions after because again, the storm is coming and it’s unrelenting. It’s just a matter of time.
First of all, I wish I was a bundle of roses & was about to light up your world but sadly no.. This isn’t gonna be a pleasant surprise where I’m all dandy about life. I’m actually not sure where this is headed because I’ve lost my mojo for a while now & I understand my mind sometimes likes caging me with writers block where the words just don’t seem to come to me. So no promises this is going to be a complete entry but what the heck…
I’ve been doing a lot of wishing lately …just as I’m about to do now. How I wish I had the world’s best words to express how or where exactly my emotions lie right now. Am I still in the blink of insanity, I don’t really know. Am I still depressed or is it like a looming shadow somewhere at the depths of my mind, I don’t know either… Right now what I do know is that there’s a lot about me that I don’t really know much about yet or have any answers to.
I’m not certain of whether to call what I have been doing as soul searching or simply waiting it out.. I’ve racked Pinterest looking for a way to understand what self love is & I can tell you the most I have gotten to it is a new found intrigue in art that leans more into the aesthetic aspects of myself. So simply, that hasn’t been of much help in my new found search for the meaning of self love. Hardest shit ever. I’ve tried to understand what kindness towards myself means and it’s an entirely new concept to me besides that I need to not physically harm myself. Anything else is uncommon ground for me.
The hardest part about all this for me has been the constant battle I have had in my mind between whether this has all been a silly cry for attention or whether I am legitimately mentally unstable. I’ve gone over it in my head more times than I can count about whether my mind has been so deranged enough to convince me that I’m sad & depressed or if it’s something that’s actually chronically wrong with my brain… Now that’s been my real battle, my real struggle. Come to think of it now, in either options, my mind is still a messed up pile of shit.
Positivity …Such a bitter pill to swallow. I wish I could swallow it as a syrup because of how quick people wanna shove it down my throat. I’ve tried to warm myself to it through quotes and songs and whatnot but I’m not just there yet. How can I conjure positivity when I can’t even seems to think straight half the time. My emotions no longer have anything to do with this because I’m not sad or hurt. I’m not spending my day wallowing in bed or bawling my eyes out. I actually get to spend my day like an average normal human being, but my mind just hasn’t caught up to speed with acting normal. I’m still drawn to a darkness that I can’t explain. I’m a human paradox….welcome to my parallel universe.
Ever felt lost? I feel lost & more so foreign to myself .Not too long ago I was numb beyond my reckoning. I have had some really low lows this past weeks. It was hard enough to wanna pick myself up and now here I am slowly trying to get back on my feet again.
Over the past weeks of my “depressed funk”, I got to learn something about myself that I never really quite knew. I’m two people in one. I’ve been having a little fourteen year old girl who’s life was once very bright, warm and if I may say happy. She was sheltered, protected and so oblivious to what growing up meant. That was seven years ago…Now that little girl hasn’t grown much since. She’s still stuck somewhere inside me. I wish I had a more elaborate artistic way to explain where in the depths of my mind she’s stuck at but that’s the best I can do. Then there’s me,the soon to be twenty one year old who’s life is a shitting mess. I couldn’t begin to explain what the past seven years have been for me. I feel her within me you know…. My little girl wants out of the cage I put her in, and I wanna help her out .
I seem to want to apologize a lot whenever I’m writing because subconsciously I feel very guilty for always yapping about how much my life sucks. I am sorry ,I wish I had more rainbows and crayons to write about. This journal entry today wasn’t supposed to be another elaboration to my sob story. On the contrary ,I wanted to write more about the first step in releasing my little girl and that’s admitting that I wish things were different in my life. I wish I could shit more glitter out than spewing darkness & possible insanity. I wish I could have been more receptive to happiness earlier & been more open to having better days but I honestly just don’t know how.
They say healing is the hardest part because it means letting go & stripping yourself of the dark amour you had held onto as a shield for so long. I am scared I may never get there because whenever I think I am ready to release myself from the tightly held amour ,I always find myself still heavily shielded. I feel like I have so much to learn about myself and how to heal . I for starters would like to understand how to love myself . To be gentle with myself because I’ve hardly been the kindest to myself. I’ve a lot of forgiving to do for myself ,to myself & to others as well. My baby steps in this case is acknowledging that I need to be less toxic to myself. It’s all I have been to myself. It’s all I have felt. Self pity, shame ,lonely & sad. I embraced them and covered myself in them as my shields. I’m scared, terrified to be honest because I’m choosing to embark on a journey that seems entirely foreign for me. I wish I could promise to not give up at the start but at least I took my first step.
“I’m sorry am at this again; I really am. I wish I knew what exactly is hurting inside but it feels a lot like a soundless cry. I am not depressed…I am not in any emotional turmoil… I’m just numb and hollow. It’s dark where I am right now. Very dark and just downright empty. How I wish I was normal & wasn’t so melodramatic but sadly this is where I am right now . It’s exhausting when nightfall comes. I no longer hear those bad voices inside my head, they are quiet now …isn’t it what I always hoped for??….then why does it feel so lonely now? Why does it feel like I preferred when they whispered to me in my sleep than now when it’s just me .I wish I could speak and say what exactly feels out of place. I wish this was just a temper tantrum and I am in search of some sort of attention.. I would smack myself out of it. Or maybe it just is… I really don’t know anymore.
I wish I had signed myself up for this because then I could sign myself right out. It wouldn’t feel this exhausting to feel this dark and cryptic….to feel like an alien just cause your mind can’t seem to cut you some slack and think like a sane person. I doubt I know complete sanity or what it remotely feels like. Sad how the world can never see how unput together I am. How fucked up I am up here and how empty it is. Quite a pity really…
I’m proud of myself though. I am not in any pain. I don’t want to hurt myself too.. at least not yet anyway. It always doesn’t have to be physically, not trying to pick myself out of this pit of darkness is enough lack of effort to be considered self harm. I don’t feel sad either. I feel nothing. I really do apologize because I wish I could sound less sad and depressing but I was hoping I could push writing this long enough for it to fade away but guess I failed at that too 😟…
Funny how numb is a feeling.. Just a feeling of hollow oblivion. I wish I was stronger. I wish I wasn’t this vulnerable to falling over the edge. I wish my mind was stronger. I wish a lot of things but look how far wishing brought me. I’m a lonely psychotic. I feel the furthest from sane and that is just sadly my truth. Maybe I never really should have been quick to count “my little wins ” …look at how that turned out…