Im depressed, srry

Bubble

^ Also kind of a reference. (Boy in the bubble- an awesome song)

(o boi, here comes a long one.)

My bubble's artificial.

When I lifted above the water for the first time, i felt so much relief. my head was quieter than it had ever been. i was happy for no apparent reason.

then the silence- only having one string of thought bouncing around in my head- grew so stifling that i cant bear it any longer.

i tried to pop the bubble so many times, but it wont even move. it's some sort of material that will not break, no matter how hard i try. im surrounded by helium and the lightheadedness is driving me insane

ive tried to get my voices back. oh how i long for them on silent nights where no one can hear the screaming in my head. they hated me and shunned me and wanted me dead, but they were and will only ever be the only ones who listened to those screams of emptiness, of fear and pain and the hole in my stomach so big that i curl into it every time i try to sleep because i hadnt distracted myself enough to ignore it.

all ive been able to do to the bubble is drag it down to the deepest water i could reach. the thick honey lies below, and the water above, and i yearn for the fullness that the pain used to give me. i want it and the voices to fill my empty, starving mind and make me feel again.

the bubble makes me numb, and my fingers numb against the pain of trying to break free, to reach the outside world.

its suffocating.

i feel distant from everything, i dodge too many regular encounters, i shrivel away from those who reach out to me in fear that i trust them and they shatter whats left of my brittle, broken body in their arms when they try to hug me.

like anyone would try to hug me though

i shrink away from everyone i havent already made connections with, i force myself to put up a fascade of confidence and bravery, however little, that i can feel people react to with distaste and disgust and judgement.

now that i think about it, i don't remember a time i ever actually fully trusted anyone. ive never told anyone face to face of all my problems. even on here i keep the most sensitive and fragile parts of me inside an iron cage, and they grow cold and rot from lack of attention and form bigger problems in my head.

my feeling of loss for the voices has even made me yearn for a bully.

someone who realizes your imperfections and makes you face them, and punishes you for all the things you hate about yourself.

i've never been bullied, but for some reason most of my friends have. sometimes, in the pits of my self-loathing, i wish i could have had bullies

then all the hate and pain and numbness that i feel, and the empty and pitiful, and the ugly and writhing and disgusting, putrid, rotting creature i see myself as

wouldnt just be in my head.

someone else would see it too.

and theyd hate it just like i do.

but never more than i hate that... thing,
because no one can ever hate me more than myself.

i am my worst torturer, belittler, scorner, enemy.

I am my very own bully.
And I will never be enough.