How do you tell someone you’re in love with them?
I don’t know the answer to this question. I’m reading a book right now where society believes love is a disease that drives you to madness. Never thought I’d actually understand that perspective. I don’t think I’m ready to talk about my personal love experience, so I’m just going to talk. I think a lot of people, especially young people, who are different or have “disabilities”(I hate that word), believe that they aren’t capable of being loved. I hate this. I know how it feels because I believed it my whole life, even more so from the age of 11 to 16. I still do feel this, and I have to force myself to push that idea out of my mind. It’s nothing but inner-demons talking. And they are NOT real. They are nothing but your insecurities; insecurities that our judgmental society has driven into you. God though, their roots are deep. I personally struggle immensely with feeling like I’m not enough, not even for myself. I’m trying to work through this, but it’s very hard. I think when you gain/regain your confidence, those voices in your head that tell you you’re not good enough, not pretty/handsome enough, not “normal” enough, all those voices will fade away. That’s what I’m working for. That’s what I want.
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Satisfaction
For the past week, my anxiety has been high. I already have pretty heavy anxiety, so when I say high, I mean it feels like someone is sitting on my chest. Anxiety can make you feel like you’re crazy. You’re not crazy though. I’m not crazy either. Even though I might feel like it sometimes(a lot lately). This week in particular has been rough. I keep on finding myself worrying largely about this one topic:….Satisfaction. One thing about depression is that it causes you to think irrational thoughts, which really sucks. I’m just seventeen, I have a lot of goals, a lot of things I want to do and I’m going to do, I know my future is writing. So why am I worrying myself sick about being satisfied? Or never being satisfied? It’s illogical, yet I’m still doing it. That’s depression. That’s anxiety. It feels like your thoughts aren’t yours anymore. BUT they are. I’ve spent years being told “you have control, it’s up to you.” A lot of you have probably heard that before and god, it’s annoying because they don’t understand. Right? I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I’m starting to understand that phrase. Your mind is yours. When I catch myself worrying about satisfaction, I redirect. I focus on something else. Does it fix it? No. The thoughts come back, but it helps. Tomorrow I’m going to make a list of my goals, of things I have to look forward to. I’m just going to make it for the next year because it’s not good to look to far out. If you’re struggling with this, you should do it with me. Live your life in the moment, but be excited for your future.
Pain
Have any of you out there felt emotional pain so high it takes your breath away? Like something inside of you is squeezing your lungs so tight, every inhale burns. Everything around you feels as though it’s crumbling, but instead of things hitting the floor, it’s you. You find yourself crumpled on the ground, your focus blurring so you just close your eyes, hoping that when you open them again, everything will be like it used to be. You know that hope is stupid. After all, nothing can really be the same. Things have changed. You have changed. So, that hope is pretty pointless, but you still hope for it for some reason. I guess that’s what really severe pain can bring out. The compulsive urge for things to be better, and since we can’t tell the future, we think about the past. Whatever happiness we remember feeling, in the present moment of sadness, we just want that happy feeling back.
I’m feeling that high emotional pain tonight. My lungs are actually aching and I don’t have enough energy to cry. I hate when it gets this bad. It makes me feel so alone, like words are my best friends. I guess that’s why I’m writing. I don’t want anyone who’s felt like this or is feeling like this to think they’re alone.
I haven’t posted on here in awhile. Life’s crazy but I’m gonna try to start posting again. I’ve met some people this week with similar struggles. I’m not here to save people, I don’t believe in that, but I do believe I can help them see things that the world has blinded them to. Even though I don’t have control over this, I don’t want anyone to feel as alone as I did and still do struggle with. I’m here. I’m different. You’re not alone.
When I Was Younger
When I was younger
I told myself I would be ok
That I would be different
And that I would never want to walk away
When I was younger
I smiled with such freedom
I laughed with such ease
Now I find myself doing those things just to please
When I was younger
I held everyone so close
Knowing they wouldn’t turns their backs on me
But to soon, I was handed a dose of reality
Now, I wish I could go back
I wish I could warn myself of all the pain to come
The struggles that would soon start to drag me down
The doubts of where every word came from
I can’t go back though
I have to settle with dreaming of if it would have changed anything
And it kills me not to know
I’m struggling to find the strength to regain the freedom of my childhood
In my heart, I know that child is dead and gone
But a voice in the back of my head keeps telling me that child is just buried and misunderstood
Now that I’m older
I see myself in a different way
I see the sadness behind my glass eyes
I see the crack in my smile as I look away
I see this thing that surrounds me and my rage forces me to cry
I’m struggling to find the strength to regain the freedom of my childhood
In my heart, I know that child is dead and gone
But a voice in the back of my head keeps telling me that child is just buried and misunderstood
Is It Selfish?
Is it selfish to want to know how it feels to have someone want you and only you?Someone who wants be with you or talk to you whenever they can. Someone who, in their eyes, you’re perfect. Someone who’s always yearning to touch you, to kiss all of your scars. Someone who loves saying your name or hearing your laugh. Someone who knows you better than anyone else, all your highs and lows, all your stupid little habits.
If it is selfish, then I guess I’m selfish.
When I Can’t Sleep
I despise mirrors
What I see I hate
I hit it, sending cracks running
I think to my self, “this is a more accurate reflection.”
Just like it, I am broken, I am shattered
What do you do with something that can’t be fixed?
Take it to the curb or keep it
Hoping for a miracle that will never come
You can’t escape the monster you have become
The one that warps your view on everything and everyone in this world
The one that pushes the only people who care about you away
They tell you you’re getting better and in return you flash a reflexive smile
But, in truth, you’re just growing numb to the overwhelming pain
Just floating through life, stuck in your own rage-filled mind
They say that they can help you, all you have to do is accept and forgive
What if I can never accept?
What if I don’t want to forgive?
All the people who have hurt me
All the people who put a crack my reflection
I hate
I hate them just like I hate what I got burdened with
You whine about not getting a better grade in school
You bitch about your parents not buying you what you want
Fuck you
You think you know what life is
You think you’re mature and deserve respect because you smoke or you drink or you’ve slept around
Wake-up. You’ve been through nothing.
I’m done pretending
This is my life
I’ve been in pain for so long, I can’t even remember what true happiness feels like
I’ve kept my mouth shut so many years
I’m choking on the words I never said
My body is covered with scars, inside and out
Some from myself, some from others
Each a bright reminder of how broken I am
So, next time you go to complain about something meaningless
Think about it
Then, don’t do it.
I Hope Your Proud
You think you know me
But you don’t know shit
I’m not the person I used to be
This world has thrown me into a pit
Slam the door
Turn off the lights
You’ll find me in the corner
Fighting for my life
My cells burn with so much hate
If you catch me smiling at you
You’ll know it’s fake
I hate you
I hate you all
I can’t believe I ever called you my friend
When I needed someone the most
You walked away with a grin
Now I’m here trying to find myself again
Trying to forget my past
Feeling my life slipping from my fragile grasp
And I ask myself……
How did I get this broken?
How did I let this happen?
I have left so many words unspoken
They consume my thoughts ever second
No sleep for the tired
No rest for the restless
I think I might be already be gone
Just a shell filled with sorrow and fired rage
Everyone who’s ever hurt me
Who’s ever told me I had nothing to offer this damned world
I hope you’re proud
Of the things you’ve caused
Let me be the first to give you a round of applause
Story of a Girl
Flying so high
Feet can’t touch the ground
Hoping not to crash
As I gaze dreamily all around
The sky ignites
Turning to fire
But it’s too late to look back
As the wind carries me higher and higher
The light is blinding
Scolding my flesh
This skin that binds me
Starts to fall away
My soul’s refreshed
I forget everything
And just for a moment
I feel free
But just like everything else
It all comes back to me
Losing my breath
I plunge towards the ground
Secretly hoping for death
My heart slows down
This is a story of a girl
Who thought her heart was mending
Her soul, she thought, was free
And, maybe,it was
But her life was surely ending
Relapse
A few days after I posted “Cuts Leave Scars”, I had a really dark day. My rage got to hard to hold down and I just broke. I trashed my room. I pulled everything out of my desk and drawers. I sat on the floor, up against my bed, shaking, trying to breathe. I grabbed a pair of scissors from the mess on my floor and cut myself. At that point, the only thing running through my head was how completely and utterly unfair life is. I know people say “life’s not fair” all the time but, for me that phrase has had an unbreakable grip on me for as long as I can remember. I’ve always asked myself and my (now gone) faith, “why?” Out of all the people in this fucked-up world, why me? I grew up with my family always telling me that I was here for a reason, that I was a miracle and that I was going to change the way people saw those with disabilities. As a child, you want to believe everything your parents tell you and, until you reach a certain age, you do believe them.
To be honest, I don’t know what I believe anymore. For now, I’m just taking it day by day.
stillhangingon 