Inner Thoughts

The Quiet Is Too Loud

My heart hurts for the innocent and happy person that I used to be.
I've had past friends tell me that I'm always the one to try to make everyone happy. I try. I try so hard. Everyone deserves to be happy and smile and feel loved and cared about and supported.

Every time I find myself alone now, I feel completely and utterly alone.

I guess I always knew it a bit. My anxiety has been pretty bad the last couple of weeks. There's always something to worry about. My job. My family hating me. I don't have any friends to really turn to. I have people I can talk to, yeah. But it's not the same. And I wish I could just let myself feel free to talk about my feelings and my worst fears.

But I can't.

There's something inside of me that says no. That I don't deserve to smile today. I don't feel attractive. I don't make people happy. My parents aren't proud of me. I'm struggling and I hate admitting it.

I try to stay busy. To find things that genuinely make me happy. And it actually works. Life feels so great and I feel euphoric and I'm at an all time high. I can't stop smiling and life feels amazing. I have so much to be grateful for.

But then it hits.

The fun stops. Life gets dark and serious again. I'm constantly worried about everything to the point my fingers are blue. It gets so bad I feel numb again sometimes. I don't think I've felt like this in years. I've been too anxious to tell anyone.

My parents think I'm doing it for attention. The people I called my close friends truly despise me. Even if we fought and didnt talk for months, life got busy. It was the fact I knew I could just say how I've been feeling (to an extent).

I live on my own now. It's so quiet it's deafening. I have nothing to truly distract me from myself. And that's the worse part of it all, right? You're in a battle with yourself. Something isn't right with you and you know it. You get these intrusive and ugly thoughts in your head and it doesn't matter what you do, they never leave you alone.

I thought about dying today.

I don't think I would ever act on it. And I want to say it's because I would miss out on so much. But I don't believe it.

I'm still here because I think my parents wouldn't miss me all that much. I think they would mourn, sure. Most parents would, I think in the very least. But I'm not the person that they wanted me to be.

I'm not close to my parents. My mom was never there for me and I feel like I was almost a chore. My biological father didn't want me. I have plenty of siblings from him and the few of us he left behind because we were just so inconvenient to be alive. My stepfather didn't want me. He loved my mom. He never really got the understanding to being a parent to me. He hasnt done bad with my younger siblings. They're a bit misguided, sure. But he's never treated them the way he's treated me in the past. And it's something that you tell yourself that you should just get over, but I can't. I obsess over it. Why me? Why am I so different?

I wish I could say I'm alive because there's so much i havent done yet. But i feel so disappointed in myself because I'm not nearly successful in doing the things I want to do and being the person I feel I could be.

I didn't think I would ever make it this far. Being alive, I guess. I think that's why I've never had a set plan on my future. I didnt think I would make it past 13 or 15.

I just want to feel something. I'm tired of feeling so cut off. Why don't I get to be happy? I wish there was a switch and I could just turn it on and break it so it would never turn off.

I've learned to appreciate the good days because of how many bad there seems to be. And I don't even want to say bad, because some days I dont feel at all. Other times I'm just on autopilot. I'm doing the things I would normally do or enjoy except I feel out of body. It's all surreal.

It reminds me of when I was thirteen. I had gone to a psych hospital. And it was the weekend that I had just gotten back. I felt so fuzzy. I didn't want to watch tv. Sleeping wasnt appealing, and even if I had wanted to i was to be supervised. I don't blame my parents for being strict when I got back. I wish they would have tried to understand and help me. I remember I was sitting in the living room, not watching tv. Not reading or doing anything. I was just there. I realize now I was disassociating. And when my mom had asked me what was wrong, I tried to tell her. I wanted to trust her. I needed my mom. Her response was that I shouldn't act so depressing.

It got to the point I thought I was faking it myself. Like I had so much when others had little. I had family and things to be grateful for. But why wasnt I happy?

The quiet is so loud. It's like a siren. Like when a gunshot goes off and you hear that ringing in your ear and everything else is muffled.

I'm tired of being alone. I just want to be happy.

I'm scared of what life is right now. I have a fear of not being good enough. If I'm not good enough, I'll be abandoned by the people I rely on. I know I shouldn't. I'm a hypocrite in that sense. But I do. I just want to be good enough in every way.

I dont know what good it will do for me to write this all down. I want someone to understand. I need help.