The Journal

Mind Games

She thinks she's slowing going insane, through everything that has happened, her mind is starting to give up. She sits here, trying so hard to keep herself together. People always say that it's okay to have bad days, and sure having a bad day once in a while shouldn't be a problem, but when you have that feeling everyday... The feeling that those down days are slowly becoming everyday- they are sheer drops into a dark pit of suicidal thoughts, one that isn't easy to escape but instead wraps chains around your ankles, dragging you against dry ground, pulling you into the barren land and tormenting you with words of, "You're not good enough" and "No one cares about you". Each word a cut into your skin, a scar that will never fade from your mind.

Words of encouragement start to mean nothing when "Just do it..." is followed by the sharp words of, "...Kill yourself."  But then again, she was too weak, too scared to actually do it. So she leaves herself with pathetic little marks of scarlet and pain, some in places no one will find. But others, in places that she wishes people would see - not for attention, its not always for attention - in hopes that someone is going to care enough to say something, in hope that they'll care enough to help her to get out of her head and save her from the thoughts that try and drown her in blood. Maybe one day, someone will see those little scars that slowly, don't seem so little anymore as they grow, get deeper, get bigger and maybe one day someone will save her from herself, from her twisted mind. It's a sad day when she needs to be rescued from her own bloody and deadly thoughts. Thoughts that slash fear into her heart and slowly tear apart her mind, blackness wrapping around her broken heart and squeezing the life out of it to a point where it begins to hurt - not just mentally, but physically. But that same heart, it's still beating. Every breath is a reminder, every step is a war. Every battle must be won. Some battles are harder to get through than others, some wars are lost. She keeps going though, she's still fighting for her life even when she feels like she doesn't want to fight anymore.

The fear of waking up in the middle of the night, her body shaking and her arms itching, itching for something she knows won't help but her body craves anyways. Sadness hits her like a truck full of bricks and she feels like she doesn't exist anymore - she's numb, her entire body just feels this overwhelming sense of numbness that opens up the gates to self-pity with a huge 'Welcome Home!' sign. She starts to crave that pain, the pain that shows her that she's alive. That this world isn't just some sick illusion put in front of her as a way to destroy her. This pain she causes herself, doesn't help her problems, it doesn't make things better, it doesn't make her forget why she was sad in the first place - it's all still there. However, this pain is her friend, it shows her that she isn't dead yet and that she still has the potential to keep on living. It doesn't make it right, but don't dare say it's wrong to want to feel something other than numbness. That's all she felt - either numb or sad, there was no middle ground for her to catch her breath. It was like she was being drowned over and over again without being able to die. Understand something, before that thing is judged or seen as something that it isn't. Don't think it's okay though, don't say it's okay. It's not okay. Nothing about her wanting to hurt herself is okay. It's not salvation, it's not heroic, it's not beautiful. It's destructive and shouldn't be the answer. It's the only thing she knows though, it's the only thing she can do.

The true fear for her comes when knowing that she's alive becomes worse then feeling like she doesn't exist. When she would rather be dead than feel anything, when all she's used to is that gaping sadness that suffocates her. Sometimes death seems like the logical way out, other times it seems like the most ridiculous ending to a story that will forever be incomplete. Forever lost in an ocean of anti-depressants, changing her. Creating the person that everyone wants but one that she will never be. Creating a robot, one that doesn't care about anything. Putting her on auto-pilot so that the world doesn't see her pain, her scars, her torment. It takes away her pain, but it leaves her empty, broken - a shell. If getting better means that she has to lose herself along the way, is it really a solution? Having to fight against the medication that's meant to 'fix' her, is surely worse than fighting the actual problem. Independence is her key, she has to learn to love herself before she can except anyone else to love her. It's been said many times, the solution to her problem is always closer than she thinks. But how can she fix herself when all she sees is the enemy staring back at her in the mirror? How does knowing that no one will love her because she can't bring herself to love what she sees, help anything? It doesn't, it pulls her deeper into that pit of despair that she fears so much.

She fights, she fights for the life she thinks she deserves. How wrong she is though. What she has, is all she's got. There's no way around what's going on, not in her mind, not in your mind, not in anyone's mind. Her mind controls her, just like our minds control us. It's a series of games that just get harder and harder as they go on. More complex, more obstacles, more problems, more pain. All this depression, this anger, this anxiety, this pain, this confusion, this madness can all be summed up in two very simple words; mind games. The saddest part is that a lot of these mind games don't have an ending. So, she created her own; at the bottom of a pill bottle, a peaceful sleep awaits and the game will be shut off. The mind game is over but forever incomplete. A solution but not salvation.