Drawing Hope In Progress (5H/you)

Part 50: journal

****WARNING: POSSIBLY TRIGGERING*****

Dear journal, 10/05/2012

Today's my birthday. I'm a year older physically, though I don't really feel any older. All in all this year was okay. I started to work, so I wasn't home as much with my parents. I've been talking to Al about possibly moving in. But that's not the reason I'm writing this.

It's my birthday. It's my birthday and I feel lonely. I don't feel happy. I mean I've never seen the big deal about my birthday, there's really nothing special about it. It's just a day. I appreciate when my friends and family buy me cake and get me presents but I always feel bad because I don't deserve that stuff.

My birthday isn't a big deal. As long as I don't die or make a huge idiot of myself then I say that is a successful day. But I can't help and just feel alone. Not like alone where I have no friends or family.

I mean alone like I know people love me, but I don't feel like anyone does. I feel isolated and abandoned though my friends live right next door, and my little sister is right down the hall.

I feel this crazy mental feeling where I'm going insane internally, but everything around me is completely normal. My lungs feel like they're going to collapse, my head feels like it's going to melt or explode with my thoughts, my heart is racing faster than Dom in Fast and Furious.

I want to punch a wall, to scream on the top of my fuckin lungs, to rip the skin off my bones and let it drop to the floor.

I'm just laying on my bed, on my birthday, feeling too much at once. I can't even talk about this with anyone. Because I don't want to bother anyone with my stupidity, because no one would understand, because it would be brushed off as nothing, BECAUSE I'm alone in my room with NOONE around me and no one to help me.

It's my birthday and I'm on the brink of tears. It's okay cause my thoughts have been here all day with me. I'm suffocated by the words I wish to spill. My emotions bleeding out of my mouth.. begging someone to stitch me up.

I have no plans for today. Just don't want to die. I look to my desk across the room. I see my pencil sharpener. My imagination takes off.

I pick up the simple pencil sharpener. I unscrew the metal blade from the plastic container. Throw out the plastic container in my waste basket. I see my skin. I trace the blue green lines that intertwine beneath. Metal to skin. The relief comes and leaves quickly. Metal to skin. Red covers the blade. My skin disguised under the liquid. Metal to skin. More relief.

I let out a breathe. I let the tears fall. I let my thoughts cheer. I let my eyes close.

It's my birthday today. I'm a year older. My innocence is dwindling in the real world. I'm alone.

Happy birthday me.