Hit the repeat button on iTunes, sit as you try to shut out the voices in your head, close your eyes and feel the warmth well up within. So alone and so scared. The silver that gleams in the distant, the urge to run it over and over till you pass out and everything is calm again. Tell me it’s okay, tell me I’ll be okay. It’s getting so hard to breathe.
My Godfinger planet is just as lonely as I am. No friends, so hard to find someone to talk to. So many things on my mind. And then I realised, all that was said that June night by the pool. Nothing but lies and empty promises.
I wanted to sort out my head a little bit. I thought I could do it. Open it, take a peek, go through the drawers of bad and good memories, if there were any, pull out all the negativity and start over. I couldn’t, I flipped and pushed and drag heavy trunks of memories. I couldn’t find a single happy one. Memories of hazy afternoons spent bent over the toilet, fingers down the throat, I don’t need this; I can’t eat that; this will make me fat, lightheaded from starving, hands that tremble, staring at the wonderful tempting aisles of chocolates, chips, noodles, pizzas like a crazed, hungry, wide-eyed adult. All these, fresh in my head. I remember talking to the doctor, he talked to me about nutrition, body image, self esteem. I bought his story of happiness and good health. I got better, but not happier. Months down the road, I slipped. Further and further. I’ve lost friends, opportunities, I never fail to let my insecurities get the better of me. Never. It’s easy to say: get help, get better. I am gone too far, this is the only salvation I feel comfortable in. I stare at that girl in the mirror, my only mission is to shrink further. I am very capable of isolating myself and I’ve been doing a very good job lately. I so whiny, whiny, whine, whine, whine. Sorry, you need to bare a shitload of my whines, there really isn’t anywhere I can go or anyone I can turn to. 21 and wanting to die, I’ve had enough.
Thank you all so much for following my tumblr. Thank you all for putting up with my endless rants, depressed and sometimes suicidal posts.
I am not good with words and sometimes words don’t fit the pain within. Alone on the train, surrounded by people, completely voided. My mind raced to a thousand and one places. Here, there, up, down. Feeding on the sickening euphoria of my pants getting looser and looser. How did I get this way, how, how, how. My mind in a thousand and two places: I wanted to die, leap off this train I’m on and die, a mangled mess I will be, on a hundred feet below. My mind in a thousand and three places: I haven’t spoken to my best friend in almost a month. He hasn’t called me either, like he used to. He has a new girlfriend. Didn’t tell me about it. I thought I would be the first to share his joy, guess I expected too much. I guess I wasn’t as important as I thought I was. I guess he has forgotten about me, I’m forgettable anyway. My mind in a thousand and four places: I’m torn apart. I feel forgotten. I’ve lost the connection I had to the only friend I had. Dear love, I thought about a million and one ways to end my life today. I wrote my goodbyes in my head. This is my silent cry for help, can you hear? I’m tired. I’m tired of trying, tired of getting better then falling down harder, tired of the happy person I project, tired of myself. My mind in a thousand and five places: I talk too much, write too much, complain too much, want so much. Nobody gives a damn. Shouldn’t have eaten this, should I eat that? Press the silver deep into my wrist, deeper and deeper. Watch the red seep through, bubbling. Lean back, vision blurry. Heart thumping through the veins, strong and fast then weak and shallow. Close your eyes, float. Lighter and higher, where am I now?
“What is an ‘instant death’ anyway? How long is an instant? Is it one second? Ten? The pain of those seconds must have been awful as her heart burst and her lungs collapsed and there was no air and no blood to her brain and only raw panic. What the hell is an instant? Nothing is instant. Instant rice takes 5 minutes, instant pudding an hour. I doubt that an instant of blinding pain feels particularly instantaneous.”—John Green (via porcelains, prettysins)
Hush now, it’s going to be okay. Hush now, breathe in; 1, 2, 3. Hush now. It’s okay, it’s okay. Hush now, run that shimmering silver across your shrinking wrist. Hush now, shrink further. Smaller and smaller till he notices. He said he’ll stay but he left, he said he’ll be there for you but he left. He left because he has a new girlfriend, left because he has no more room left for you, left because you’re so needy and emotional, left because you’re a mess, left because you’re minimal in his vast sea of friends, left because you weren’t as important as you thought you were. Because it’s my fault; my fault to want so much, my fault that I’m always down, my fault to believe you’d never judge no matter how fucked up I am. Love, I do feel very lonely, even when you’re holding my hand. I have tons of things I wanted to say but I couldn’t. I reminisce about the past very often and I miss it very much. But Love, you’d never know how much I’ve gone through during the times you weren’t around and Love, I can’t cry in front of you, I can’t tell you about the voices in my head. I can’t, I can’t. It’s okay, carry on, be happy. I learn to be okay by myself, I won’t interrupt your happiness, I’ll fade away. Hush now, count my ribs. A new one? Hush now, continue your mission of slow suicide. Waters rising, hush now. Silence will come.