Free thoughts on Mental Health.

If I am being genuinely honest, I don’t know where my train of thought will lead me while writing this. Today being the tenth of October signifies something quite salient to me. In obvious nature, I should have too many words on it, instead, I don’t feel like I have quite enough words; or even the right words to begin with. Today is World Mental Health Day. Mental health is the subject I am not quite sure I have enough words to scribble about.

Every day, I happen to come across one thing or another that is in direct relation to matters on mental health. That’s how important it is. I can’t deny that it is being spoken of more often than it was in the past, but I believe there is still quite a lot on it that isn’t said enough. I am well aware, that the progress of it can’t all happen at one go. I am well aware that my words and two cents about it here won’t create some sort of epiphany on mental health that’s not already been put out there. It is for those exact reasons that I had considered not mentioning anything at all in regard to today’s importance. But I also know that not regarding it or ignoring it doesn’t make much progress either. Better the little progress, than no progress at all. Time and time again, I have come across different stories on people’s different experiences with their mental health and for sure, I have read some of them and just as much, brushed others off. It is basically what will genuinely happen to all the stories I myself have put out, in the same spirit. Despite all of us being aware that our stories won’t move mountains or souls, we still go ahead and tell them. Maybe it could be because most of us are a sad lot of human beings or, most of us truthfully hope to connect with others whose stories are similar but haven’t quite gotten out yet. Our reasons may vary entirely, but the sole importance of it all at least for me would be the fact that issues on mental health are viewed to be less alien-like to one less person.

As I was skimming through ideas on what I would write about, a question popped up in my head on whether I ever would have been remotely interested in matters of mental health had I never experienced any form of mental turmoil in my life. I can’t truly say I came up with a substantial answer to my question if I am being truthfully honest. It posed the challenge of me having to try envisioning myself in a life that I can’t say I have ever lived. Consciously or not, my mental health has always been at the forefront of my thoughts, my actions, my mannerisms and my outward being. I was too aware of it as a child and I am more aware of it today, as some version of an adult. I recall being too much in my own mind. I can’t speak much for other kids, but I do recall having too many conversations in my own head than I did out of it. My opinions were safer projected out in my mind than they ever could have been being said out loud. I think a lot of that still is very much how I live today, stuck in my thoughts. I knew it wasn’t entirely how most kids were because most kids were quite uninhibited to their opinions. I must have felt like such a weirdo being all silent and enclosed in my head whereas every other child couldn’t wait for their turn to speak up. I guess as I grew up, it wasn’t too hard to pick out who was different between me and those kids around me. Reserved is what I eventually got to regard myself as. Different but reserved.

I am sure that enough of you who may read this, have had the term triggers be thrown around a lot on subjects of mental health. Besides the term’s general meaning, I didn’t see what the big fuss over the word trigger was. My naivety was at its peak. Triggers in mental health are very important. They serve as a guide in regard to identifying what exactly ‘’ticks one off’’. I understood the real impact of a trigger not too long ago. Thought I was strong enough to brush it off, but my mind knew otherwise. It’s easy to think that one is invincible to a degree, but that’s the thing about dealing with issues on mental health, as long as it is a part of your being, anyone is liable for having a mental health trigger. Don’t rule yourself out.

To end this weird post here, I just want to leave it at this. Your mental health matters, regardless of whether every day for you feels like rainbows and unicorns. It mattered from the start, even when you might never have been conscious of it. I hope that through these few jumbled words, it starts to matter. As cliche as this has been made to sound on countless occasions, nurture your mind as you would nurture your body, soul and spirit. Try not to wait on those triggers because as much as they are put out there, they are not always as easily detectable. If you could find a means on avoiding the darker sides of mental health, do so. It will save a lot of you, might even save your life. If you have already been down the road of difficulty in mental health, I just need you to know that you are absolutely amazing, whether you are still struggling or are out of the struggle. Don’t falter at trying to be happy, it is all that’s worth your life. Hope you have a good World Mental Health Day.

Weeks later, I am where I thought I wanted to be. I thought that if I got here I’d be better. I walked into it blindly but with hope that some light would be shed into the darkness that’s been my home for so long. So here I am… So what next…?

It’s been hard finding this niche that drives me to write. It’s hard enough that I can’t force it even when I am in desperate need to let out the turmoil that currently goes on in my head. I no longer keep track of how long it’s been since I wrote, I just know its been long enough. I’m in limbo right now. My state of mind is unknown. I guess it’s part of the new feeling that comes with taking antidepressants. Can you believe it? We are at antidepressants now… I have to latch on meds for help in dealing with whatever goes wrong with me. I still feel like I don’t know exactly what that is but maybe progressively I will find out what plagues me.

So here I am, five days in since I started on my ‘happy pills’…Truth be told, I don’t feel so happy or nice to say the least. I know I’m not supposed to judge them so soon but it’s inevitable not to. I feel like shit right now. I’ve been doing my research on the precise medicine I was given and guess what, I’m not sure if they are meant to help me, or get me quicker to being suicidal. I have never been suicidal before & I know that might not seem to be the case due to my self harming ways but they don’t mean that I want to end my life. At least for me they don’t. They just mean I survive painfully enough to want to live. I don’t expect everyone or anyone for that matter to understand that. Recently actually, I have come to experience stigmatization in a form I never anticipated. It took me off guard since it was from a family member who I don’t blame for their lack of understanding on my struggles. I guess I just never fully anticipated ever being stigmatized over something I have absolutely no control over.

As I’ve mentioned before, I feel like shit. Day one on my meds, I was high as a fucking kite. I got so drowsy, lost every sense of coordination & balance .I was knocked out in a couple minutes. My body was adjusting to the foreign entity in its system. With the exact type of medicine I am taking, it’s meant to take care of the depression & insomnia. I don’t necessarily consider myself an insomniac, I just have a terrible sleep pattern that is inconsistent. Day two, I opted to skip on one of my pills. I’m meant to take two in a day, morning & nighttime..but on the occasion that it’s too strong for me to handle in the day, I can take one pill before bed everyday. Now to day five, I am sure I am depressed which I’m not surprised since its a side effect of the medication. I know, I’m confused too. The medicine is meant to help me cope with the said depression, not add on to it. I wish I could understand remotely what is going on but I don’t . All I know is that, I’m five days in with this antidepressants & I feel a tad bit worse than I was before. So yeah, I’m not gonna throw in the towel & quit taking it, no, I’ll wait it out and see how things go. Maybe it gets worse before it gets better.

I feel extremely hyper aware of my problems right now.. Not just mentally but even those that are happening beyond my mind. It’s devastating feeling this helpless and not knowing where to start. Nobody ever tells you how lonely depression makes you feel, it won’t let you bring anyone down with you because it’s quick to remind you that its your problem, no one else’s. Its crippling & isolating enough to have you convinced that nobody can nor will understand what you are going through. I have never felt more alone in this world than I do now. The stigma, the shame and everything else attached to depression is the weight on my shoulders that I’ve gotta carry. So you know what, I’d never wish this on anyone. Nobody deserves to have their mind as their biggest fear.

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.

After all this time, I cannot pin point of everything that possibly sets my heart on fire. I’m certain though that it should be something that has my heart racing & my adrenaline pumping. At least that’s what I believe I feel when I’m in that head space where I’m peacefully chaotic and excited over an overwhelming feeling. We all have that something that tips you over ;that has you feeling euphoric.

Music sets my heart on fire.. Cliche’ really but I’ve gotta be normal in some form, right?? So yeah… When you get that jam that hits your soul to the root and it just sorta drowns you in it & virtually brings you into a different mental dimension where it’s just you & the lyrics of the song & the rhythm that just makes you feel like you’re floating… We all probably have geners of music we all feel we relate to and that hits different from the rest. Could be rock, indie music, jazz, opera, hip-hop, soul, country …I for sure can drown in country music & aesthetic soul music.. the latter being where I truly feel like I’m in my truest form of nature. Technically, for those who can’t necessarily pin point what kind of music it is I’m rambling about is in lame man’s language, depressing music. Music that mellows one out and has one completely feeling chill & melancholic. Yes, it’s sad but I can’t help myself. 😅

Not to delve further into any the ‘depressive shit’ in my life ..I know I never talk about my canvas often but I love the feeling or in this case, the high I get from getting new ink. It’s euphoric for me to go through the entire process of feeling it skim through my skin and form a beautiful artistic reminder of something significant to me. But for this year, I chose to take a time off on getting anymore ink, for more or less personal reasons…as I said before, there’s not much that I can say truly sets my soul on fire but I’ve come to learn that it doesn’t have to necessarily be common or good. I’ve spoken before about my affiliation to pain and I know it hardly makes sense to anyone. I wouldn’t necessarily say it’s meant to make sense but it sorta does for me. I don’t wanna have to delve into my reasons for why pain doesn’t always have to be wrong. I’ve survived through it, I believe it’s been a part of me long enough for me to say it’s not easy to detach from. It puts me at a crossroads where it’s not easy to feel. It’s heavy, It weighs on you. Then there’s a similar though different part of me that just is drawn to it. It’s a hard concept to wrap around in one’s mind of how anyone would be drawn to it.

Looking at my past now, I understand in my own twisted way why in it’s own sense it’s appealing and such a drowning feeling. This at all isn’t meant to glorify self harm in any shape or form. That is an entirely different spectrum of pain that isn’t pretty & holds no pride at all….Do I wish I didn’t feel this drawn to it, not really. You can call a consolation that those nitty-gritty aspects of myself are what have built the character & personality I have. It may not be conventional or the norm but as the saying goes, normal sucks.

Tonight I’ll probably be sleeping late cause I’m meant to be studying right now for a paper I have tomorrow but here I am,… not exactly doing that. I’m okay with it though I’m highly anxious about flunking the said paper… Like always, I’m here without a precise reason other than I just glimpsed at a previous post I uploaded a while back and it made me nostalgic about writing. Sadly though, as I have come to realise, I’m most inspired and aesthetically artistic with my words when I’m the most broken & downright shattered… It’s ironic really. Feeling this sense of nostalgia doesn’t only mean I miss just writing… nah, it carries the demons that are my inspiration to being that aesthetic while writing. I’m just a paradox like that. I am fully aware I shouldn’t want to feel like this but.. but.. that’s just how I feel. I want to close up & shatter in the self pity and the depression. It’s just that warm blanket that I just don’t know how to let go of.This sense of nostalgia is so deep rooted in me, I jump at any chance to shut down and wallow in my own pain. It’s crazy how a part of me judges people who are far more deep in their depression, anxiety and any other mental illness. It seems ridiculous when they can’t seem to pick themselves up from their pain & turmoil when it’s probably not their fault that their pain is stuck in their minds and it’s really all they know. I’m a hypocrite to wanna feel that kind of pain when there are others who’d do anything to get out of it, even if it’s just for a day. I’m a self sabotaging hypocrite who doesn’t deserve to have better days, at least not until I truly feel ready to embrace those better days. For now, I keep breaking down the slow & steady effort being made by others to get me to a better place mentally.Self sabotage feels like its in everything I do right now… In the type of music I listen to OR search for. It has to match the mood I constantly want to feel and when I’m finally drowning in my self made pity party, I have the right tune to match. In the books I read, to the posts I view of Instagram or twitter ..there’s just gotta be something to slowly take me away from the sense of normalcy I’ve tried to be conform to. I can’t not stare at the little scars on my wrist that scream louder everyday that I did this.. that I put them there. I shouldn’t want to see anymore of them but I sadly do. I shouldn’t want to have a reason to cut but I twistedly do. What does that say about me… If that I’m not just a hypocritical fuck up of a human being. I wish I could say it is a part of me that is unconscious of my self sabotaging ways but I wouldn’t be writing this if it wasn’t in my conscious mind. Let’s just call a wreck, a wreck… Sometimes the truth is all we have and in this case, me being fucked up is a plain as it can be.I probably should be scared that I’ve gotten to be more aware of my triggers in the last couple months. It’s not at all to imply I’ll purposely put myself in the line of fire just to get burned but I might not make the effort to not get shot. I wish I could blame this ‘lack of effort’ on being tired of fighting my demons and just not having enough armor to fight but that would be a white lie if I may call it that. In such a battle, armour should be your motivation to have better days that are less heavy & scarring; armour is seeing your family not constantly worried you’ll tip over the edge and drown in your pain…I have that armour, I guess I’m just holding it long enough to not necessarily die from the darkness I’m attached to but it doesn’t save me from wanting to feel engulfed in its shadow. I just don’t know how to not want that ache & shatter that has me embracing the darkness and liking it a little bit more than I should.My inspiration for this post was by a beautiful but sad song written by Sasha Sloan…Too Sad too Cry

Been a while.. I wish I could say I have something valid or an intense rant to go on about but honestly, just too many feels are swirling in my mind right now. I feel like I’ve just been heavy the last month and it just is slowly draining me & leaving me without much to offer anyone or myself in the least. Ever just wanted that deep exhale ?… that’s pretty much what I need right now or currently… I’ve lost trust this last month, I’ve lost hope, I’ve lost focus, I’ve lost strength and will …i feel like I’m in that space of mind where I’ve given so much, I’m an empty vessel.My depression is lurking and its dark looming presence doesn’t feel so far away….but when is it ever. I call bullshit that I’m gonna try beat the damn thing cause maybe it just might be what I need right now for me to just shut down & reboot…. I hate having expectations cause I get disappointed every other time when I hope that they are gonna be fulfilled but are not. Having relationships in life can do that to a person. So yeah, I welcome the darkness cause I need the walls back. I need in my cage to silence the ever noisy world that is out to fix me to fit the picture perfect human. Maybe I just don’t wanna be fixed…at least not just yet. Greatest mystery should be whether there’s a sense of Stockholm syndrome for patients who cling to their depression.Everything this past month has felt like a trigger for me. I’ve nearly tipped over cause of the sadness & gloom that’s been in the air and maybe that’s what I need to stop feeling scared of, tipping over to my dark sea. At least if I drown, I get the still & calm I’ve been yearning for. It’s probably gonna be a bloody mess but sometimes it’s just the price I gotta pay for the silence.“I try and I try but I’m too sad to cry. I’m not suicidal, sometimes the lines just get all blurry. Yesterday I tried to pray, I just didn’t know what to say. I don’t like to talk, just rather stay in my bed . Lied to my doctor, she knows I was faking, gave me some pills but I’m too scared to take them, I try and I try but I’m too sad to cry. ” Sasha Sloan

So the first month of the new year is over and this is what I have to say for it. That was utter shit!!! Like Seriously. Despite the fact I can’t remember much of what’s happened over January, maybe since there wasn’t much happening, this is the write down of things that took place over the month that have me feeling like my life is a major piece of shit.


1. This girl has had one to none sex action. Yes, goddammit I said it. I got needs and sex is one of them. Am I embarrassed to say it, slightly yeah but who gives a shit. I’m trying to start being confident enough to ask for what I want and here’s my first try at it. I need my occasional dose of dick or else I’ll snap with the pent up frustration coursing through me .
PS. I’m not being comical about this one ,I’m damn serious.

2. I’m having a beginner’s life crisis. I completely and utterly have no idea where my life is headed. I prior wasn’t really bothered by it but hell, now I feel like I practically don’t know shit of where I wanna be in the next six months after I’m done with school. I’m internally panicking here and don’t no jack shit on where to start. What on earth do people do after school, probably get a job but that’s not what I want. I know I wanna continue with school for my degree but since when do things ever go my way, so that’s a maybe. I’ve recently started questioning whether I’m even in the right course, this steming from my not so very stable mental state. Can’t even get my own mind to think straight, how am I honestly supposed to help anyone else think right….Are you seeing what I mean,,,,…serious begginers life crisis. I turn twenty two this year & this is what I’m having to deal with…🙆🏾3. January is known around to be the worst financial month cause people are broke on not so funny levels. This was that month for me. I hate not having enough money, just like any other normal human being. This time round, it just wasn’t the manageable kind of broke, to top it off with every other life crisis I have going on. I just couldn’t with this month, couldn’t cut me some slack.


4. For this problem, I only have this much to say. Men/ pubescent boys are nothing but utter SHIT!!! No sugar coating it, I’m saying it as I feel it. This is for every single reason the men in my life have given me a damn grey hair. I wish I could cuss them out more for their lack of emotional understanding & just downright cluelessness of their shortcomings as men, as spouses, as friends, as humans & as significant others. So this, this is for all y’all men who just ain’t being good enough right now and still don’t have a clue. PS. Please read this specific paragraph in Ricky Thompson’s voice. He would surely do this justice and I wrote it with his voice in mind.

5. Probably the last of my problems that I can recall felt too real in January, is Kobe’s death. This was just the cherry to the mother fucking cake that was the month of January… To say the month ended in a tragedy would be understatement cause this was just on a different kind of level of misery. Still very much is; too raw. Kobe’s and his daughter Gianna’s death really took a toll on me. It was a trigger for me on the loss of my mama and I was just a wreck at the beginning of this week. It’s crazy that it’s just been a week but my emotions have me feeling like its been longer. I cried on hearing of this death & crying is the one thing I don’t do. It felt like a flood had been unleashed & I just couldn’t feel strong at that moment. In a week, I mourned for a total stranger and his family because I know what that kind of pain they will continuously feel for the rest of their lives. It got so real for me that I relapsed on my self harm. I just needed to curb the pain & I did it the only fastest way I could before it swallowed me whole. I don’t think I’ll ever forget Kobe and Gigi for through their death, we connected.
And so, there you have the run down of my not so nice first month of the year 2020. I have no bigger hopes for Feb, I just want the relief of not feeling as vulnerable as January had me feeling. No more deaths & maybe a little bit more money. Men will always be shit so there’s not much that can be done about that. I’ll probably have the beginners crisis for a while, till I can figure out what’s next for me. Can’t say if I’ll be getting any sex anytime soon… The universe just could decide its no dick for me this February, who the fuck knows…

I always love the end of an year ,not just because Christmas comes along but also because it gives one the motivation to wanna start on a clean slate for the new year. I’m about to write on how I want to start clean but in an unconventional way. I don’t want to be more happier or less sad. I’ve settled with the part of me that acknowledges that the bridge between my happiness & sadness is what makes me uniquely different. I’m a swinger. Technically we probably all are in life but mine sways a little further from the conventional. I truly do hope that whatever I choose to change in the next year, goes through.. even if it’s just for a little bit.

I’m feeling pumped & energetic at the moment about what I want to change in the upcoming new year. Call them resolutions, I don’t care.. They just have to be effective and gradual. So for starters, I’m DONE getting whack sex🗣🗣….Get that one loud and clear. Like that’s at the top of my list. Being a pushover most times doesn’t allow me to say what I want, how I want it, whether I want it to begin with and when I want it. But I am done letting that be the reason I can’t get mind-blowing sex. No more settling for two minute men or thirty men pumping into me like I’m some bicycle wheel in need of gas. No more of kneading my tits like they some sort of dough that needs baking. I’ll smack someone’s son if they manhandle my body any longer. No wonder I don’t understand the simple concept of self love, at least not when I’m letting someone think my body is some empty vessel. It took me a while to realize I’ve been settling for seconds best in everything because of my stupid need to feel wanted and love/ cared for. Not anymore. If your not worshiping my body like its a sanctuary, don’t fantasize with coming ten feet near it.

Mmmh, that felt good getting it out there.I suppose I’ve never been vocal about my sex life. Yes, this on and off depressed person has a sex life…

Moving on to another change, I have mentioned before that my nice personality has been taken for granted not once by friends and family. I’ve had not one occasion with not one person but different people come late to a scheduled meeting or date we had planned & they have kept me waiting for over two hours. I’ve sat at a restaurant waiting & when they finally show up, I’ve had to swallow down the urge to not beat the person to pulp while struggling to keep my tears down. I thought I was not a patient person until I had to experience this cycle for so long that I’d now say I’m at the edge of it. Not anymore more. New unconventional change of next year, I’ll always be an hour & a half late to any date or meeting, scheduled or not. I will purposely choose to take my sweet time at arriving and if the date I’m meeting has a problem with it ,they can as well leave & be on their way . It will take a toll on me pulling this through because my nature often forbids me to be anything other than nice to people but you know what, I’m done letting people take my good nature for granted. I’ll fight every good bone in my body to never be on time again.

It’s my final year in college & I need to have my head in the game. I don’t want unnecessary bullshit with exs, friends or family. I want to grow a pair of hard steel balls that will allow me to not condone any sort of disrespect ,dishonour or disregard from anyone, even from myself. I need to grow out of my shell, at least enough for the world to not shove me around anymore. I will not condone for my feelings to be deemed irrelevant by anyone, whether your my friend, foe ,family or significant other. I realize I’m writing this with so much harboured anger and pain for every time I’ve never stood up for myself, for every time I’ve cowed and for every time I kept quiet about something I should have spoken up about. The upcoming year is the year I do unconventional things that bring me a sense of contentment . No more nice Mercy. No more pushover Mercy. No more easily teased Mercy. Like my Queen said, ‘suicide before you see this tears fall down my eyes ‘.. I know it won’t be easy but I know it’s not impossible, I walked away from the shackles of a friendship that had dominated my life for the past five years, this won’t be impossible either…

I need to quit trying to find more complicated reasons as to why I’m special. I just fucking am!!!!!!! . I’ll proclaim that here & now when my pheromones aren’t raging depressed so yeah,…Forgive my opening rant and how hard I came off but I’m not honestly sorry since I kinda need to get it out there a lot more often so I don’t have those constant mind relapses that have me thinking I’m anything less than an amazing human being.Woot Woot!! I like the head space I’m at writing this; probably won’t be feeling much of the same in a few minutes but what the heck right? It’s here now, the least I can do is revel in it.

There are days where I’ve thought that I’d need to have a change of scenery for me to feel special and it fails miserably right after I walk out of the door of my destination. It’s such a constant competition with myself to see when I can most please myself & when I can be my greatest Debbie Downer. Even as a child, I always thought that I’d probably get a lot more recognition & affection from others if our life long dream to go to the States came true. Just to answer the possible question in your minds ,that ship sorta sank ages ago. For the longest time I knew I’d stop being invincible the day I boarded that plane to America and I’d never feel anything short of adored. The bummer in this case is two things, first, I never got to go to the states at all, practically grew out of the fantasy that it’d happen & the second is I’m still a thirsty bitch for affection years later. Not sure where the inadequacy for things came up in my life, probably from the one major tragedy of my life *smiling like a creep.

I shouldn’t revel in how fucked up I am but I do.. Gotta problem with it , I don’t give two shits about it.. It’s my specialty. It’s what I’m good at. I hope that one day I’m able to put it to damn good use and probably then, I’ll have a lot of fake love being thrown off in my direction. At least I hope that writing about how effed up things get in my life will have me earning something substantial after I publish a best seller…

Why on earth is getting a baby such a damn expensive deal..!!Don’t judge me for wanting to bring a child into this life but as random as this last paragraph will be, I wanna get a child so bad *cue the fake water works and temper tantrum… Besides my fear that I may not be the best example of a responsible self loving mother ,you know with the cutting and all, God I’m a sorry excuse of a person, I shouldn’t want a child as terribly as I do. Sadly though, I don’t consider myself stupid enough to get knocked up now, I’d have my mum rolling over in her grave, that’s if she’s not already done so with how reckless my life’s gotten…anyway, I plan to feel more special next year. I may not know where to start on it but I’m going to sure as hell try to feel like a substantial human being.

Is it worth it?? That’s what I’m asking myself right now cause I’m in a bubble that’s pretty different from my normal mental darkness . I’m even scared to say the H word cause I may jinx whatever it is that’s happening right now. For those who may not be following up, the H word is happiness in this case. Not too long ago I wrote about how hard it is for me to understand the concept that is happiness and when exactly one can fully say they are happy with everything that’s going on for them. I’m yet to get there….still have a lot of demons who are allergic to anything remotely good for me, therefore tend to bring out my not so favourite friend who goes by the name Anxiety.

Not to dwell too much so not to fuck it up, I’m at a better place than I usually tend to be. Something has changed that I won’t go into but it’s a significant change that’s been happening for me. I’m so worried that I’m being gullible and naive over it and letting my very betrayable feelings guide me in this case. I don’t sit well with change, of whichever kind. Bad change just sort makes things more aggravated for me. Good change is what I fear most. It tends to have your expectations higher and your judgement easily swayed. It never lasts long ; always just a matter of time before the real darkness makes itself known in whatever good change was happening. So change for me simply doesn’t work out the best . I’m transitioning currently & it’s a wild ride that is exciting, exhilarating and a whole lot more fun than I ever have had on any day. Million dollar question ; Is it worth it?

Someone close to me told me that the world doesn’t know how dark and twisted it gets when I am in my lows mentally. The lengths it takes me to pick myself up from the self induced depression and anxiety I struggle with. That’s why it has me thinking, is this sense of joy & contentment worth it, if at all there stands a chance of me completely falling back to my dark place. Could I be convincing myself that it’s not just a matter of time, that whatever I have going on won’t be my ultimate downfall ?That I may finally have my last straw and loose myself in my own demons if things go wrong at the end. Am I able to pull the plug with my mental state in one complete form or will I be in pieces unrecognizable to even myself?

It scares me. Everything downright scares me shitless. On one hand, I don’t want to not live because I wasn’t strong enough to try and fail or try and win. But I’m also not gonna deceive myself by ignoring the fact that I’m not mentally capable like everyone else. My mind doesn’t function like everyone else’s… Will I need two or three more therapists to get me out of my personal mental hell if I continue giving myself a chance to live without the certainty of the consequences of my actions. I have walls built up so high, you’d think I’m a castle… Is it worth it, peeking out to see if I’ll survive beyond the walls that my mind have convinced me are there to protect me despite being well aware I’m a prisoner instead. It’s a hard risk to take….A very dangerous one too. Asking myself how worth it it is may be the wrong question all together… Maybe what I should be asking is if I can handle it whether I’m in it or not.. ?