thought

Every day is a struggle, even when I'm at my best. If you could read my mind, you would be in tears. Happiness is an every day battle and I'm not sure how much longer I can continue.

Thought

Too many nights I have spent awake crying from frustration as I rip the razor blade across my wrists, shins, belly, or thighs, trying to find a way to evict the dark cloud out of my head. Too many nights I have spent in despair, overflowing with emotion, too weak to fight off the voices telling me that I wasn't doing it right and that what I gave wasn't enough. This isn't a temporary phase, it's a lifetime. I've recently dealt with negative thoughts that began to cripple my every day life, and I was about to give up. I summoned up every ounce of my courage and tried to tell my parents that I needed help, I need help coping. The voice that I hear is overpowering me and sometimes, it's so loud that I listen to it. Like I will tonight. I am going to let that voice take over me. I already know that I won't have the strength to fight back.

I told my parents that I needed help.
My mom told me it was a phase.
My dad said that it was selfish.
And my brother said to ignore them.

How do I ignore their opinion when they are the ones who took me in and raised me?
Impossible.

At least five posts on Facebook were made between Thanksgiving and Christmas about the importance of mental health.

They commented on each publicly, but still said nothing to me until today. Christmas day. And what made her say something? She had to use the excuse that my family members were asking about me and wanted to know if I was okay. I said yes.

Lie.

But seriously, why do you wait to ask until you need an excuse to ask?

I know that it'd weird to ask. I know you don't want to think about it, me having a problem. But I do. And I need more help.

I guess what's bothering me is that mom thinks that everything is fine and dandy, but when she does ask me if I'm having a problem, it's always at a bad time. She asked today. I'm not going to tell you that I envision myself putting my foot on the gas pedal as hard as I can and 'accidentally' losing control of the wheel. Or that I want to sit in the bathtub and slit my wrists the right way, so that I disappear forever.

Don't push my mental health outside. You're not right.

Time

At some point you will realize that you have been trying too hard for too long, and you have to let go. A person, job, or whatever it may be, you have to stop doing so much for something that you're not sure is being appreciated. Leave it alone, walk away, and keep going. Letting go does not mean giving up, it means going forward and hoping that the person or thing you have left behind will get their life together and move on. I'm drawing the line of how far I will go, I'm tired of trying, tired of begging for your attention and tired of not going anywhere. I am but a child, and have the desire to roam free and do whatever I want. If I want to go down and travel and be alone, I won't have to answer to anyone, that is what I crave. I gave everything that I had to you and I have no more to give, I have no love for myself and I can not take care of anyone else until I take care of myself. I'm desperate. I love you, and always will, and I hope that this will be a wake up call for you to get yourself together. It needs to happen before we consider moving on together. I will wait for you, I will remain emotionally loyal to you. For how long, I am unsure, but I will be here for you. I need you in my life, Nick, want you so badly, but things need to change. Please.

Wednesday Morning

This morning I woke up sad. I woke up sad and recognized it from the second I moved out of bed. But why?

I don't have a single reason to feel any pain. I'm the typical 20 year old.I have friends, family, school, and work, but I still have the voice in the back of my head that controls me, that tells me I'm tired, that tells me I'm no longer needed here.

I feel this constant weight on my eyes, reminding me that I could tear up at any moment, recognizing that any thought that would make me go into my own head would try and release pain through tears. Help me.

The Man Who Walked Away With My Head

My first memories of you are of the rumors associated with your 'craziness' and how you were 'different.' You tried to bring a bird into the building, and were a little bit out there. And those biases remained in the back of my mind as our relationship grew, until I realized  I loved you for the man I knew inside of your room, not for what the others thought. You took me into your room and took control of me, and rather than a smooth bullet wound through my heart, you pierced right into the middle and shattered, tearing down every single one of the walls that I have been building for nineteen long years.

In the first memory of you, you're cheering me on as I sit on the bed at eye level from you with a kale shake in my hand. Holding the cup in my hand, I tried to twirl the bottom of the cup to stir up the gritty contents, but they don't move. You look at me and tell me to just chug it. I don't chug. I don't want to drink this. You stand there until I finish the entire cup, smiling at me when I was done, going off in endless, passionate speech about how it is important we eat things that we don't necessarily like because they contain supreme nutritional content. 

In the memory my brain is most fond of, you took my breath away as I lay on your carpet. The passion overwhelmed my senses and nothing mattered but you and I. Maybe it was the night we stayed up far too late and watched 'A Night in Paris,' or when we sat there and watched RSD videos and absolutely anything else we wanted. At first, the idea of you replaying one line in a video was irritating. Then I stopped letting it get to me so much that I realized with each time you rewinded the video, you laughed a little bit harder, a little bit longer, and I couldn't refrain from watching you. Too bad I realized this too late. 

The memory in which I do not care for is the position in which we are now left in, as it is change, and people have a hard fucking time dealing with change. You said that yourself. And now, I'm sitting here being forced to figure out why I couldn't even get a goodbye. 

Marriage

Up until recently, I've always wanted to get married. I would imagine my dad walking me down the aisle, flowers everywhere, and pretty colors surrounded by a bunch of friends and family. As I've grown older, I slowly have wanted less to do with a wedding. I want it in a backyard, with just close family and friends. And today, right now, I can't imagine spending the money on something so...not useful. Thousands and thousands of dollars go towards one day, but for what? Pictures to look back on? It isn't usually an easy day for either parties, and takes months of stress to plan everything out to a specific detail.

Maybe it's about the type of relationship that you share with that person, that sacred, honorable promise that you're giving yourself to a single person forever.

But why?
We should celebrate the beginning of a relationship when you ask your significant other to be yours and no one else's.

But then, why do we want to cut people offf from having sex with other people? Or other intimate relationships with others? It is in human nature to reproduce, and we naturally seek companionship.

There's just something about relationships that I don't understand, more of the idea of getting married than anything else. A celebration of people coming together and not having sex with anyone else and having a close relationship isn't all that special, considering we have a very similar relationship with our best friends. You have sex with a boyfriend and you don't have sex with a girl friend. Unless you're gay, a cheater, or a male (switch roles, I am female.).


A couple shouldn't need to have an official ceremony commemorating their fidelity to each other. Or a day for the wife to look beautiful. Why wear a white dress when the majority of couples have had sex, and the majority of those getting married have not been pure for the duration of their life?

Bonfires

I very much like the feeling of creating something so delicate looking but fierce. Knowing that nature can murder itself from a fire is one of the greatest flaws, but the greatest accomplisments.

Humans are similar.