I never fail to find myself here.
The hollowness of my stomach echoing throughout my body
The shaking and the twitching.
It's a familiar feeling.
Familiar but unwelcome.
I do this to myself every time, I sabotage something good.
I don't know if there's any coming back from this.
I've cried more than I have in several years.
If this has to be the end, I don't have the strength to try again, I don't have the strength to press on.
The world proves again that I don't get to live as a normal person.
It feels like I'm being pulled back into my own core, I don't get to rest, I don't get to get up, I don't get to eat, I don't get to stand.
I'm forced to fall to my knees, to beg for mercy, to struggle.
In this moment I feel nothing but dread.
I'm trying to live with some sense of normalcy but it feels like a piece of me has been removed.
I'm being forced back into the person I used to be.
Isolated, empty, angry, hollow.
The essence of the person I've become has been drained out of me and I can't even force a fake smile.
Is this what the rest of my life is meant to be like? Am I going to live under everything I've been through?
Am I going to become like
Her?
I've reached the low I'm so used to, it feels comforting somehow.
It's an emptiness that I know so well, I want to feel everything, move on, and grow but I don't have it in me.
I don't have anything in me.
Not even food.
I destroy everything I touch.
Maybe if I stop touching things I won't have to feel the difference.
If I stay down here at the bottom of the murky water I won't have to experience the horror of coming back here.
This feeling.
I don't know how to get rid of it forever in a way that's not just hurting myself.
But physical pain is the only thing I can feel when I'm like this.
It feels like I'm tired all the time and the only thing that could fix it is the cold embrace of death.
When I find myself here it's one of the few things I can think about.
A release from the way that I am. Nobody knows what happens after death. It just leaves everyone broken in the aftermath.
I couldn't if I tried and I've tried many times.
But the way out seems so clear.
I left a part of myself in that morning, I was filled with nothing but rage, confusion, and fear.
Terror.
I think back to that night in July.
I remember how hollow I felt and the only thing that could make me feel alive again was quite the opposite.
I remember feeling like that night was my last, I remember feeling like this was the best I could do.
I remember thinking of everything I could've and should've done differently.
I reflected on so many things feeling like it was all going to be over now.
I live with the burden of never being able to put myself first.
I firmly believe that's why I'm alive today.
I'm needed in many places, I serve many purposes, my life of servitude has given me a mindset where I have to think of what everyone would do in my absence.
I like to think everyone would move on quickly but who would lock the door at night? Who would turn the lights off? Who would take on the burdens nobody wants to deal with?
Maybe in my absence the people around me could grow.
In my absence.
I can't say I feel much right now. I can't tell if I'm feeling nothing or everything at once.
I think what I am is a burden.
I think people begin to see me in a way and overtime I disappoint them.
I can't get it out of my head.
I wish everyone would just let me go so I could live here in the bottom of the murky waters until they finally take me away.
Just take me away.
