You continue on throughout the day. But you are unsure on how much more you can take. From all the mental abuse you take from your own mind. It makes you wonder what's the point in trying when in the end it will all backfire and your own world will be destroyed by the thoughts inside yourself. Sometimes it makes me wonder why I think the way I do. And it makes me tired of pretending I'm okay when I know I need someone to talk to. It makes me wonder why I try and be someone I am not. Why I am inspired to be such a thing I know I will never be. Why do I try to pretend I'm happy when I'm not. Why do I try and pretend to be someone who is happy when I am someone who wonders what being normal is?
I'm okay in the end. But that's not the point. The point is why do I try to be something and hide how I truly feel when I know I have people who will help me. Whi will always be there for me when I need them. When I feel like I am just a waste of space. Why do I feel like I have no one when I have many people to help me feel better. When I can rely on someone else to help me for just a little while. Instead of trying to ignore my own thoughts. I want to have someone help me. But I am afraid I will be seen as the girl who is just wanting attention. I am afraid of being judged and being called someone who just wants to be on the spotlight. I want to have someone who I feel like I can trust. I want to have someone who can help me. I have many people there for me. But in the end I do not have many people who I feel I can trust. I cannot keep feeling the way I do every day. I'm getting tired of keeping it all a secret. It is bound to come out one day. Whether I tell someone. Or they find out through feeling and my stories. I cannot trust my grandmother. I tried. And she called me crazy and said I needed a psychiatrist.
Seeing things that arent there. Hearing voices that are no where to be coming from. Having the thoughts of ending it all. Impending doom getting the best of me 24/7. And sometimes wondering when it will all just stop. I feel hopeless. And I want it to all go away. But I want someone to tell me it will be okay. Someone to tell me it will all be fine. Someone to make me happy. Someone I can let everything go and tell them the truth. Someone who I can actually tell these things and not feel insane. But I cannot trust anyone. Not even myself. Not anymore. And not ever again.
