I am not a number or a statistic. I am not a label or a diagnosis. I am a person, I am me and I will break free.
I am afraid I no longer know the happiness that once tugged at the edges of my mouth and lit my sad, glassy, green eyes or the warm light hearted echo of laughter. I have found it difficult to kindle a fire of compassion when I seldom have a spark of interest to keep it lit. I have been left in the cold darkness of solitude and although I have become at peace with the black that fills me it is human nature to be afraid of the dark and what may lurk. I am afraid, so terribly afraid of being alone with whatever I may be.
My lips are chapped from all of the kissing I didn’t do.
I haven’t written in a while
Maybe because nothing has really changed. I admit I am happier, but I still want nothing more than some pills that will calm my nerves and get rid of my demons…But then again a bottle does the same… and so does a gun, or a train or blade.
to be quite honest i’m lucky to be even the slightest bit smart considering that i have a sexist, alcoholic father who wants nothing to do with me and an unbelievably arrogant and abusive mother who has an IQ lower than a retarded monkey.
im trying to make a video for my english class but i feel like im going to have a panic attack and im so on edge but its due tomorrow and im freaking out and havent slept well at all the past month and i havent slept in 48 hours and i dont want people to laugh at me because i have to share it with the class and they are all really mean and judgmental.
I went out by myself today to buy supplies for a project, and i find it sad how when you’re alone doing such an unextraordinary and simple task such as buying markers becomes nerve-racking. You begin to notice everyone who looks at you and you can’t help but to wonder what they are thinking, and if you are even remotely as pessimistic as I am you expect the worse. You even consider the stupidest and non realistic probabilities like ‘she must be addicted to sniffing markers’ or ‘why is she buying to black markers instead of red is she stupid or something?’ And it feels as if every one is judging you when it takes you a few seconds to pull out your money and you get frustrated because your hands are shaking and your just fumbling around and it shouldn’t be this hard for you to go out in public alone.
I’m afraid to grow up not just because of the unknown and the responsibilities i will have but mainly because of the fact that I will be truly and completely alone;
I’m not afraid of the lack of comfort because I have never gotten comfort from people,
But instead I’ll have to suffer through my anxieties to go to the grocery store alone,
That is if I am even motivated enough to eat since there will be no one forcing me to do so.
I will also have no more motivation or reason to stifle my cries because there won’t be anyone there that would be able to hear me or see me cry.
And there would no longer be people checking my wrists and arms for cuts and bruises.
I’m afraid that ill end up unreparabley broken, because if I think about it the people that are responsible for how broken i am already are also the people keeping me together.
Fist comes the thoughts and doubts…
And then comes the butterflies…
And the shaking hands an uneven breath…
Then suddenly you are sick to your stomach, paralyzed, shaking, can’t think straight, and can’t breathe.
You are a walking cliché
Tall dark and handsome,
With eyes that I could get lost in,
And smile that lights up the room
And you could say it was love at first sight,
But all is far in love and war.