I wanna tell you something. Something about me. My mind. These are random thoughts who I can't follow or understand. Yeah, I'm the kind of person who can't understand his own thoughts. Don't judge me.
I'm also the kind of people who prefer an "baby I'm busy right now but I'll call you as soon as I get a chance" rather then 8 hours with no text back and a sorry ass excuse. You don't know how many messages I've typed to you that I've never send. But it's okay, I know you don't care.
But do you know what hurts me exactly now the most?
It hurts, when someone made you feel special yesterday, but makes you feel like a nobody today. And so you will cry, try to let all your pain out so you can feel better, but no tears come out. You just stare blankly into space while you feeling your heart is breaking.
If you could read my mind, you'd be in tears. And from day to day, you get more and more tired. I'm tired of emotions. I'm tired of people. I'm tired of myself. I'm just so tired of everything. One day, you tend to distance yourself from others because you feel that they're going anyway. Having a mental disorder makes you see the world in a different way. You notice things normal people don't, like the faint scars on people's arms, the emptiness in their eyes, the way they smile with their mouth but not with their eyes. Just little things most would look over, but you notice because they're like you. It happens every time. Normal people lose interest in you. They get tired of you. Suddenly the conversations become shorter, or don't? And I'm (again) a kind of people who wonder if it's my fault. And here a little do-you-know, in this times I'm still up at 4am, wondering what I did wrong. But I realize that people never stay in my life, and there's nothing I can do about it.
I'm that kind of person who gets mad and don't know why so I don't want to talk to you but get more mad when you don't even try to talk to me. I'm sorry for that.
Having anxiety is the most silently painful experience. It makes no sense and you sit there alone and suffer for an unknown reason. 98% of my problems would be solved if I stopped overthinking things and calmed the hell down, I swear. I think, I'm afraid to be happy, because whenever I get too happy something bad always happens.
Being mentally ill and suicidal at a young age like me is strange, because you grow up with this idea that one day you'll finally snap, turn off, be brave enough to kill yourself or that you'll recover from your mental illness and that everything will fall in the right place like it seems to with "normal" people.
So you don't really plan for the future. And then, before you know it, you're 18 and you're an adult, but you never thought youd get this far and sure it's great that you're still alive.
You guess, but you also feel alone and lost in a world you never expected or planned to be a part of.
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