What is the purpose of my life
Would anyone miss me if I were to die or end up in the hospital
Would it hurt really bad
Is there life after
Would anyone miss me
When I’m feeling like myself, I don’t wonder much about any of these things. I go to school. Smile at people I know. Try to focus through hazes of pain and confusion. Schedule extra time to get to class because sometimes my depression is so painful, it takes me 1-2 hours just to get out of bed or half an hour to hook on a bra because I can’t do motor function when I’m thinking about death
I wonder if I were to die tomorrow, if I would have any regrets.
Being suicidal is glamorized by many and to some it’s a joke.
Fighting suicide, is not at all glamorous and nowhere near a joke.
Last night I came home from dance practice and tried to take a shower but I collapsed. I cried for an hour with the shower on, praying none of my roommates would need the bathroom
My mom texted me to ask if I had gotten the package she sent with my brumby boots and the hello kitty socks.
I texted her thank you and then I could not stop crying.
I was inches away from self harming
I felt. So. Alone.
Starved of human affection. Like I keep running into the same wall over and over again. I want to feel loved and feel like people care but I can’t feel ANYTHING.
I crave touch to the point of misery day in day out. I want to hold onto someone just to remind me that I’m alive. That someone still wants me around.
But I can’t.
I’m scared of this video coming out because finally, the kids at my school, will have the whole truth, a click away.
I’m pretty darn sure that they won’t believe me. I have my makeup done every day so there are no dark circles.
Today I ducked out of class to cry in the girls bathroom because usually no-one is here.
I can’t even tell you how long I have been doing this any more.
I thought after 2 1/2 years. That somehow, I would feel the burden eased. That maybe I could sleep again or run again but every day even my injured leg is a reminder of what I can’t do. Of everything I lost. Another thing in my life that requires hours of care every day, just to be able to walk, let alone do any sport anymore.
I keep wondering why did I do this. Why did I come so far and try so hard. It would have been easier to die, I know that, so what made me decide to hold on when I knew I had no hope of ever being normal again?
The scariest part is I don’t know the answer. I don’t remember.
And then I get so soo angry because it’s like bitch you came this far, you cannot quit. Why do you keep flipping between fighting so hard for your life and wanting to end it what the hell is wrong with you
Because something IS wrong. I know it, deep down, things are broken. I’m trying to do basic things I used to do with ease, and I am finding that I cant. No matter what I try, the deepest hurts are not healing. They tear open over and over again like I don’t have enough to hurt already.
How do you express mental illness? The brokenness that shatters your soul, your mind, your heart, and eventually your body? How can there even be words enough in any language?
I don’t know how to scream. Literally. I can’t scream. I do not know how.
I feel like I am banging against the walls of a maze, trying desperately to get out and I can’t and my voice is lost. No-one can hear me asking where are you please come find me, reach me help me, anything.
My heart aches for what I used to feel.
I am running out of tissues
my sleeve is a mess
I will try to go back to class. I will wipe away my tears and fake a smile and just try to be “normal”
But I thought someone ought to know I’m heartbroken, barely holding on
And even strong girls cry