Now all you want to do is disappear. It would be wonderful to not have to worry about anyone else for a day, an hour even. The reason you don’t sleep at night is to make sure the sun comes up for everyone else. That way they can have their daytime while you are in an everlasting fog. You either cannot sleep or you are always asleep. There is no in between. No normal. What is normal anyways? You seem to have forgotten.
Remember when you where that little child? So happy, nothing mattered. You thought of yourself as pretty and that everyone loved you. Well you aren’t that person anymore. You are a broken person. One of those people. Scars everywhere. Always ‘happy’.
All you really want is for someone, anyone to love you, to call you beautiful, to say that you make them happy. That will never happen, you are a worthless person now. No one could ever want to be around you ever again. And if they say they do it’s a lie. You’ve looked in a mirror, told your deepest darkest secrets to yourself, no one can ever love or even like being around you now.
You struggle to escape from the river called depression but it is much, much to strong of a current for you. You are weak. The worst part is the strong people laughing and calling you names when you are stuck in the middle of the river. They could help you. But they don’t. Every once in a while a rock will make their way to you, help you stay above the water. But they always get sick of you, let go of you and let you drown. Except for you can’t drown. You are stuck in a place where you cannot breathe but you can’t die either. It’s torture. Like hell.
You know that hell is real because it’s where you are right now. You just hope there is a heaven too. Of course you aren’t so sure about the second on because you have prayed and prayed for God (if he is real) to grab a hold of you and pull you out of the hell you are living in. he hasn’t yet. But maybe just maybe He is real and has you in this place for a reason, so you can look back someday and say that you are glad you went through this.
You pretend to be sick just so you don’t have to get out of bed and face the torture of seeing people. Sleeping forever sounds lovely right now. Bu you can’t sleep. You are laying there awake and alone. So you cut. Again and again. By the time you are done cutting your thighs and wrists are covered in blood.
What is the use in quitting? Why not cut? It seems to take the pain away even for just a few seconds. So you live on it. You can’t even leave your bedroom without your tool. At school, church, the dinner table (“hey mom I have to pee”), and anywhere else you go it’s just always with you. It’s the only friend you have.
You really just want to die right now. You even made a list of reasons to live and reasons to die, you have two reasons to live and twenty reasons to die. So why stay alive? The only thing stopping you is number two on the staying alive list. Him, the one who lets you rant about everything to him. The one who has been there for you through everything. You really want to tell him what you are going through but what if he hates you? You couldn’t bear for him to leave you as well.
The playlist you listen to on repeat hasn’t changed in weeks. The same songs they all say the same thing. Except for one. The one where you get saved, the one with a different ending, the ending you wish it wasn’t too late for you to have. But it is, who could save you now? You are so far gone.
Alone is good. No one can see you cry. No one can ask you why. Besides you deserve to be alone, you deserve to feel the pain. Only you deserve it though… no one else.
You wish people would stop asking if you where alright. When they ask it reminds more every time that you are not okay. You aren’t fine. You're broken. Broken into a million pieces that no one can fix, the type of thing that if it were a dish you would sweep it up and throw it away, but when you do that a couple of slivers of glass always find their way to the floor and avoid being swept up, someone always gets them stuck in their foot, so you leave yourself in a little pile that everyone can see so you don’t hurt anyone, like a broken dish of the floor.
They scream at you, they call you names; they do horrible things to you. But you refuse to retaliate because you deserve as much pain as you can get. Every bit of that pain, you deserve it. Or so you think.
Watching them eat is torture; you don’t allow yourself more than a mouthful of food a day. Fat is bad. Besides you deserve to be hungry. Maybe one day you will be thin enough to start eating food again, but not today, you are still a huge number on the scale.
Everynight it is the same struggle, they saved you last night but tonight you are facing the same demons. You sit on the ledge crying listening to the voices in your head… holding the blade. You look over at the bottle of pills and glass of water, you remember the other times you tried to die. None of them worked. Why? Now you are screaming in pain. The pain doesn’t come from the hundreds of fresh scars all over your body but from the beast inside. Maybe if you cut deep enough you could kill it and no one would have to fight with that beast ever again. Because no one deserves to fight with the beast. The only way to kill it is to kill yourself. That is why every night is a struggle to stay alive. Eventually you decide that you must say goodbye to him. That is the only thing making you stay.
Authors Note:
Hey guys. I’m depressed again and I quit singing. If you didn’t already know singing is my escape, the one thing that makes me happy. Well when I get too depressed to feel anymore I quit singing and then I get worse. I was afraid this might happen because last time it did I attempted suicide. I’m trying not to but no promises. I want to die. I’m sorry that it has once again come to this but I can’t help it. The beast I’m wrestling with is much too strong for me to fight. Sorry.
With love,
Ashley
