I have these spells where I don’t want to be alive anymore. Usually I can remind myself that it will pass. That it’s circumstances, stress, and pressure but it’ll be better.

This time I just pray almost daily God will let me die in my sleep.

I Don’t want to talk about anything. I’m not passionate about anything. I don’t want to go out. Hang out. Have friends. If you call what I have as friends.

I fight intrusive thoughts 45% of the time my eyes are open. Suicidal thoughts another 45%. And stress about all the shit going wrong that I’ve been trying to get right for the past 2 years.

If I can’t fix my life. Why am I here. If I can’t get healthy why breathe air. My life is struggle and I’m tired. Even at the best parts I was being abused by someone who was meant to protect me.

Just feels like I wear this skin to appease those around me. I daydream about dying or falling off the face of the earth to a place no one knows me and no one ever will.

I try to get help. Professional help but professionals want money. They want real insurance so I fail at that too.

I’m a waste of space. I can’t do shit right anymore. And that’s fine. If I manage this roll down the hill maybe I’ll get to a place where I’m not a waste and can do shit right again. Maybe not.

Bleed

What would it mean to

die in the house that haunts me.

Don’t contain it to the tub but let it

trail down the hall, down the stairs, everywhere

that held my pain. I’ll give it back and

when it’s all gone, maybe I’ll get peace

Reflection

I wonder often what decisions I make, that lead me somewhere I don’t want to be, and why I make them. I’m sitting at my desk, fighting more tears because I’ve swallowed so much anger and frustration over the past month that I can barely swallow spit. I feel like I’m a second away from losing control and lashing out, my chest feels heavy, my throat hurts, my eyes burn, and I am pissed.

I ask myself, why, when my instincts tell me something, do I go against them? Why do I try to reason with my gut reaction and feelings? I’ve done this time and time again, and EVERY time I’ve done it – I’ve dealt with/suffered major stress emotionally and mentally. Now it’s affecting me physically. I’ve been so stressed out since I moved that I’ve been in a skin flair up (the first one I’ve had). I’m breaking out on like 75% of my body, and anyone who knows me knows how destructive that is for me. So on top of all the other stress, I now get to add the stress of my body not functioning the way it should be or looking the way I am used to it looking.

I’m having a hard time with balancing these feelings because most of them are negative. I spent weeks trying to find silver lining, trying to be positive and keep moving in grace, but today I just want to snap. I don’t give a single care about grace, about kindness, about positivity. Am I acting on those feelings, no, but I can’t keep swallowing them either.

I feel like nothing has changed. I left one situation where I felt like I didn’t have freedom, to get into another situation where I don’t have freedom. I don’t have complete control over my routine or how I want to move about my day and with my time. I have limits on things that, as an adult, I shouldn’t have limits on, and once again I’m stuck.

But I did this to myself. So how do I fix it, because just saying okay is no longer working. Trying to stay in the other positions shoes has done nothing but leave my own feelings and needs neglected. I want to hibernate, I want to not be for a few days and just get a break so I can get back on track. But that’s not how life works.

When it rains it pours, and you just have to figure it out as you get bogged down with the pressure of everything falling down onto you.

Regret

I go back and forth daily. Trying to get to a place where I don’t go back and forth at all. Fighting to get every part of you out of me, my mind, and my body. It is a curse. I am haunted. Haunted by the what if’s, the why’s, the maybe’s. I don’t want any of it, yet every room I enter, every pull of my heart, and every song reminds me. It flashes your face before me and pulls more of my soul into hell. Burning with desire, love, and hatred. I write about it every day. How many ways can I say I love you, that I miss you, that it hurts?

Pain is

being awake at almost 3am because my chest hurts so bad that I can’t remember to keep breathing. Holding it in thinking that if my chest just stops moving, maybe the pain will stop.

Cyanide

I have a theory that not every suicidal thought means you will kill yourself.

That sometimes it’s just the expression you understand to articulate utter exhaustion.

That although you would rather not be alive, you certainly don’t want to take your own life.

That all you really want is relief, and it feels like death, simply not being, is the only relief you’ll ever get.

It’s the reminder, that you have a choice. A choice other than fighting your own mind, your failing body, and your chronically wounded heart. That maybe all the brokenness was meant to shatter a glass, not meant to be fully put together.

The thoughts fill all the holes, the holes everyone else has beaten from your mold. There are no real gaps, every pain, every heartbreak, left something else in its wake. The thoughts.

And as the pain grows, as the frustration grows, as everything but your happiness grows, so do the thoughts. Even when you hold onto the happiness for dear life. Even when you fight to feel it in your darkest moments. The veins that build who you are, can’t hold it for long. They’re too accustomed to the slicing, the letting of everything that poisons you.

Because happiness is a drug, a quick high that you hunt for, and wish you could store more of, because too much at one time, makes you sick. Your body bucks against it.

But the thoughts.