Stop Trying

Stop trying to help me.

My life is fine. Its pretty good since last year. My dad left and he was nasty so I guess that's good. It's just me and mum now. My mum's nice. She lets me watch all my favourite shows and she sometimes watches them with me. I like my mum.

Except when I'm in my dark hole. Not in a literal dark hole obviously, but that's what it feels like. I could be on my phone, scrolling through Tumblr, or reading a random book, not really concentrating on either. I could be lying on my bed, just staring, sometimes crying. Or I could be leaning against my door, blocking my mum while she screams at me, calling me attention-seeking or telling me to get a grip.

Trust me, I want to. But it's impossible. The dark hole has no ladder and no one on the outside can find the ladder, if they can be bothered. No help is coming. No help will ever come.

I need to stop doing this. All these dark thoughts will do nothing for these gloomy moods I keep getting trapped in. I just need to take a minute. Calm down. Evaluate what my purpose here is then act on it. What do I want to achieve with my terribly short human life? Who do I want to be? Who do I want to inspire? The only way to find the answer to these questions is to keep moving forward. One step at a time. I can do this.

I can't do this. I can't do anything right. How did a stupid idea like that come into my head? How could I ever think I can make even a tiny scratch in the surface of the world? My existence is insignificant and the entire world would be better off without me in it. No one would miss me if I died. My mum would breathe a sigh of relief. My friends would whisper all the truths they kept from me to my grave. If I have a grave. Knowing me, I probably wouldn't have thought ahead that far. No one would've. Not for me. God I'm so useless.

Why am I lying to myself? My mum is trying to get me some help. She can't do it herself so she's paying the last of her savings to find me a professional. She wants me to stay a while and I think its working. Thank you mum.

But she is blind. She can't see anything. She can't see him. My invisible dad who won't leave me the hell alone. He knocks on my door. He rattles my windows. He rummages through my dresser. He sings me unnerving lullabies, scaring me away from sleep. But I'm the only one who sees him. The only one who feels him. He is always there, standing over me while I cower in a corner. He is in my head. He is in my bones. He is still in my heart. He will never leave those places. I can do nothing about it.

I should stop trying.