suicidal but a meme idol

windowsill thoughts p/2

I have a new window. A new room. A new house. This window is a great window, but is also the worse window. It's great because when everything is falling apart around me, all I have to do is sit on the floor and gaze at the stars in the night sky, or watch as the clouds roll past in the mornings and afternoons. It brings rest tranquility when I stare at the midnight moonlight that cascades hope for the wide-eyed. I stare amongst the stars, wondering, pondering on the endless possibilities and opportunities that we can have. i have a plan. an idea of what i want to do, of who i want to be, of who i should be. and it's times like these, when i sit at my window and gaze upon the blooming sky that i find peace in my thoughts. 

but, there are times when i feel the world crack beneath my feet. sometimes when i look up the moon i fear that it is my only friend, as it's the only thing that he's my wails of anguish.it's the only one that gazes upon my suffering. either making a mockery out of me or sympathising with me. it fuels my loneliness, the voice rummaging within my bones. in my brain, i feel like a visitor within it, i have no control, i am a marionette for the growing disaster. i sit at the window, curled and hurled in a ball trying to find someone who can make me escape from this hell. 

sometimes, only sometimes do i hold a blade against the crevice of my wrists, legs to blemish my skin, punishing my thoughts , punishing my actions, punishing myself. through all my mistakes, i still feel the need and desire to punish myself, and the moon is but an echo of the voices that taunt me to do so.  i scream, pray, beg for someone to help me, only gaining control for a few seconds before i'm laced with the venom of my thoughts. eventually it'll stop, and i'll admire the endurance that it has that to watch my trembling state. the moon will either cry for me or leave me in the cold of the night. 

i have these thoughts, on a daily basis. i guess that's what you get when you have sever depression, anxiety, ptsd and schizophrenia, but hey what can i do. all i can do is have these moments of tranquility, moments of silenced chaos the devours me. but in turn, i am but a puppet to my brain. amara, the voice that endears to make my life a living hell is the monster, but yet i am her and she is me. she forces me to do things i don't ant to do sometimes. like hurt the ones i love, hurt me. i don't blame her, because i am the one is holding the gun, she is but the mere voice that forces me to trigger it, a voice of evil guidance.  

one day i'll go further into my pain, but that's just a brief overview on the window pain of my life; for now.