What Happens After You?

The Wall.

Hey little message before this one, it's pretty intense and it's honestly about suicide so if that bothers you, please skip it.

It's not that I don't want to kill myself, because I do. I don't know how to make people understand that I can't, because I'm not selfish. I get called selfish all the time. But the truth is, if I was selfish, I would have killed myself by now. Honestly, I would have. But all the people that I care about? I couldn't even imagine. Even if they didn't give two shits about me. I'd still feel bad. But then again, I'd be dead, so what does it matter? It matters because I know that somehow, I'd still feel their pain. Maybe because I know what that pain is. Maybe because I'd be able to live on through them vicariously. I don't know. But somehow, I know that I would. So instead of being the typical suicidal teenager, I just wish someone else would kill me, so they'd have someone else to blame. So I won't just be another teen suicide nobody does shit about. If you kill yourself, you're a coward. That's what people say. But I feel very much like one now. Sitting around, waiting for someone else to kill me. Slowly, I'm losing that hope that I'll die before things get worse. If that's even possible. But really, I'm the one making things worse. I procrastinate and procrastinate until it's past procrastination and there's no possible way to go back and fix it. That's a way that I stress myself out beyond belief. Maybe I'm over dramatic. I mean it's really all in my head isn't it? I could very easily get over myself and just do the shit I'm supposed to do. No. I could just very easily get over my anxiety, and be social, and stop worrying about things that I can't control. No. I COULD VERY EASILY go to sleep at a normal time, and ignore the constant aching I always feel in my chest, and I COULD VERY EASILY- NO. It isn't that easy. If I knew how to get over it, believe me, I would have by now. Maybe I'm just too stubborn to get over it. Sure, I could very easily start wanting things for myself again. Except, I want things for myself. You think I don't want to be successful? You think that I don't want to be able to go through my life just as easy as everybody else? You think that I don't want to stop fighting with myself every single day of my life? If you think that I don't want to be fucking normal, you're wrong. But it's like there's this block in my brain. A wall between the things that I want, and things that I think I can have. The things I think I deserve. And the ironic thing, is that has nothing to do with my self-esteem. I mean, look at my life. Everyone deserves more than this shit. But the wall says that I don't. The wall says that everything would just be easier for everyone if I wasn't alive. I don't know how to break the wall down. I know that the graffiti on the wall isn't true. But it doesn't listen to me. It's like trying to erase ink with a pencil eraser. I've tried painting over it, but a few months later, the words show up again, plain as day. I'm not drowning in a sea of people. It isn't so dark that I can't see. I'm constantly hitting a brick wall with my fist expecting it to come tumbling down, and getting my hopes up when it doesn't. I'm tired. Not because I can't breathe, not because I can't see. But because the two sides of my brain are constantly screaming at each other over that wall, as the wall screams back. And I sit, and listen, and I beat and I prick, and I pry, driving myself insane. And somewhere in there, there's a little girl, completely forgotten, completely ignored, and completely paralyzed from fear.