A cut of the Knife

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So a few months ago while I sat at my desk alone in a flat I shared, a thought crossed my mind. I looked at my box cutters laying on the side of my desk and then looked at my wrists.

Cut them. Cut them and let’s see how long it take for someone to show up. It will be quick and probably painful but you don’t mind the pain. Do it. Cut your wrists.

It took me a few seconds to realize that the voice I was hearing was my own. I was coaxing myself to an attempt at suicide. ME. I was the one not only telling myself to kill myself but also I was telling myself that no one cared enough about me that finding me the next morning drenched in my own blood would make them feel anything. I never realized that my mind was slipping and that the stress I had been pushing back was now at the front counter waiting to be served.

No one came home that night and if I had gone through with it I would have most likely sat there until the next afternoon.

Looking back at that moment scares me. What happens the next time that thought comes back and takes another swing at me. Why do I feel like this. Why do I feel like I’m some forsaken lamb stuck in the middle of an enclosing pit. What happens when the next time this happens I can’t think of reason to argue against all of this? Why do these tears hurt so much when they’re supposed to be a release?


The cycle

I wonder sometimes if I’ll ever stop hating myself. Maybe hate isn’t the right word. I think the more appropriate word to use would be hurting.

When ever I find a piece of sanity and peace I always end up going back to everything that causes me stress and discomfort. It’s like comfort food. It’s never something healthy that’s low sugar/salt it’s always the greasiest, fattiest most sugary food you can find because some how dirty food makes you feel good about yourself.

Dirty food makes you feel good about yourself. I should make a sticker and fill my wall with some of the analogies that fall out of my head/mouth.

I think I’m too lazy and I procrastinate on everything I do so I never get to stay in the good places I find. I some how always convince myself that if I go back to the bad things that give me anxiety it won’t be as bad as before. Surprise it’s worse, good job Sour Rambles you played yourself (again). I’m the only one who can stop this cycle and I’m probably just too lazy to do it.

Honestly it’s moments like this that offing myself doesn’t seem like such a bad idea. Although it does seem like a lot of work and I would be that person that would want all my thoughts out so when I’m gone the people around me can get some perspective to my state of mind. Hmmm…. For now it’s on the back burner.

There’s so many… words? No… Hmm I can’t think straight right now.

I’m at a loss and I just want everything to end.

Why does my heart feel so heavy?

Photo by Alem Sánchez from Pexels

It burns.

It’s burning inside of me. I can feel the burning liquid pushing its way up my throat and it’s disgusting. All of it is so disgusting I want to purge it from my system, but it won’t leave It’s just sitting there, why? Just get out and leave me be! Why do you continue to keep me prison to your rage? You make me feel weak and I hate it. I wish you would just cease to exist. Why won’t you die? Leave me, just leave.

No matter how many times I push you down you continue to force your way back to the surface and I hate that you do that. I’m so frustrated and angry all the time. Every waking moment there’s nothing but rage and all manner of distorted feelings flowing inside my head. I hate it! I wish I could rip you from my body and make you suffer as much as you’ve made me suffer, as you’ve made so many people suffer. I want to slip my fingers around your filthy throat and watch the life slip from your eyes. I want to hack you to pieces and set your chunks a light and watch you burn away. I will ensure every moment is slow, savoured and extremely painful. Every day I live with this rage, this pain, what more is there left to give? You’ll never leave me, only death will separate us and maybe not even then.

Can you just imagine… Death separates us from all manner of things, life, marriage, friendship but wouldn’t it be so funny if death let you slip in with me? I would much rather lose every appendage on my body one by one with each loss more painful then the next then let you continue to live in me in death.

Occasionally, I’ll have these moments, moments that make me feel weak and disgusted in myself. I hate feeling like I’m losing control over myself. I should be the one thing I can control in a world that’s filled with uncontrollable nonsense. I should be able to control when I want to let loose and when I need to be firm etc, however I always find myself here in this place losing faith in everything I built up for myself. Every time I think that I’m getting somewhere I get shot back to the reality that I don’t want to live in. I want to leave this place and leave all of it behind. Everything that holds me in this space I want to leave behind.

Growing up I never fully understood why villains behaved the way they did but as you get older you start to understand, and you start to relate and that just makes me feel so immensely empty inside. What more do I hold onto? Where do I place my faith when everything out there asks for compensation and I can’t even rely on myself to be steady and sure? My space is violated, I try to scrub away the filth and I try, and try, and yet the more I clean away the more this muck creeps up around me. Are you trying to consume me? Will you be satisfied then? How long before I get to live my Life the way I want to live it? When do I get to stop looking over my shoulder and just live? Maybe I’m not meant to live a life like that. Maybe I’m just meant to be another statistic and break my mothers’ heart one more time.

It feels like it would be so easy but why would I give you the satisfaction? You don’t deserve me.

Addressing my Issues

What is it that we fear the most in this world? If you were to ask this question to a friend, a family member and an acquaintance I’m sure you would get three very different answers. You could ask this question to hundreds of strangers and get hundreds of answers but how many would answer “myself”?

When I say fear of self I’m talking about our physical, mental and spiritual self. There has rarely been a time in my life when all three of those states of being have been in synch with each other. I have found myself in a constant battle with either one of them or all three. There are brief moments where my mind shuts down for a bit but in these moments, I am not dealing with any of them. What makes them so scary is that if I refuse to acknowledge them attempt to regulate them, they start eating away at my being.

When I was much younger, I found that writing in a personal diary would often empty my body of my frustrations. At that age I did not know that dealing with those frustrations head on would be the best way to get rid of them, writing in my diary gave me a release and that was what I focused on, but it came at a cost. I never left those moments of frustration on the pages, instead I carried them with me and year after year they continued to pile on top of me, it was as if my diary became heavier with each entry. I eventually stopped writing in my diary, I was going from primary school into high school and after moving into a new place I had forgotten about my burdened diary. One day I found it and went through my entries from my younger self and missed those days where I could tell my diary about my day or my deepest secrets. The nostalgia of it all was great but it brought back feelings of pain that I couldn’t yet explain.

To this day I still have that diary and from time to time it has been my solace, my confidant but mostly it reminds me that I have a past that I need to face and make peace with. It’s frightening having to face yourself, you have to face the decisions you made that you knew would damage yourself, you have to take responsibility for your pain and make peace with it, and what’s worse you may never find closure in facing yourself and you will have to make peace with that as well. It would be so easy to let myself slip through the cracks of my being, I could lash out at the people I love and destroy my body both on the inside as well as the outside, I could wallow in my pain and let it consume every portion of the person I’ve become but that is a never ending suffering that I do not want to endure. I want to be at peace with myself and I owe it to myself to put in that effort. We all owe it to ourselves to put in the effort and face ourselves with honesty.

I don’t want to feel like there are creatures gnawing at the back of my head and I don’t want to feel my life slip through my fingers anymore. I want to face my demons and I will.


Two hands facing each other creating a heart shape.

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I sometimes wonder if anyone has ever had these lonely moments where they question whether they deserve their happiness and if it’s okay to be “proud” of your happiness. I’ve questioned myself countless times, wondering if it’s okay for me to be happy.

Two years ago I found someone who I thought was just going to be a fleeting moment in my existence. He was kind to me during a time where most people would rather pull away. I wouldn’t blame them if they felt they had to pull away, looking back I was a real mess (in some ways I still am). I had found a new kind of happiness that I felt ashamed to have. I didn’t believe that I deserved to be happy. In my mind I was supposed to be miserable, I was supposed to be in mourning, after all I had just died so there wasn’t really any reason for me to be happy.

I think when we die on the inside that we forget that there’s still the outer shell that has desires and needs. It’s not as apparent when we simple grow out of our old selves, that’s just nature taking it’s designed course. Sometimes we don’t see it right away but if we look back we can say with confidence that we are no longer the same people we used to be. We grow out of clothing and the things we used to receive joy from and all of it seems so normal. When we die it’s a completely different story though. In my experience it’s like having two giant hands take hold of either side of yourself, they count to three and pull you apart at one and a half. It seems like something that should be painful but it happens so suddenly that all you’re left with is the numbness.

In a place that dark you don’t really expect to feel things like relief or happiness. You’re supposed to be hurting and hopefully picking up your parts so you can begin healing. Your mind just wants to stop you from feeling anything so you throw away your lingering thoughts of self preservation and you just indulge in anything and everything that finds itself in front of you. Amidst this cloud of poor judgement I found something I wanted more then just the pain I was inflicting on my body. I wanted to be happy but it felt so wrong to want that. It felt wrong to want to be happy and it felt worse experiencing it. It was as if I was committing the greatest sin imaginable and I couldn’t stop myself from doing so.

I’ve come a long way since those 2 years ago but the feeling of being unworthy of this happiness still lingers. The days between how often I question myself seem to have spread further apart and honestly I don’t know if I should be grateful or fearful. Only time will tell how far these feelings will go but I Love my Happiness and I won’t feel bad about that.

My Burden

So where do I start…

Again I find myself at a loss for words trying to wrap my mind around everything I feel. Honestly half of the time it all feels like it’s in my head and maybe if I stop talking about it or acknowledging it maybe it will stop existing but even that feels like it would be too good to be true.

Everything I hear inside of my head seems like just a whisper so I easily ignore it. It’s hard to understand and to explain I just don’t know where to start. I’m hurting inside and I feel like I’m hurting myself and those who come into contact with me. I find myself once again longing for the world that I can call upon in my head where everyone knows me and they feel comfort in my presence. They long for me to be near them and they bring me as much peace as I bring them. In this world I am strong and powerful, I have powers and am in control of myself and my destiny. I get to explore a different kind of world where I’m not hindered by these noises I hear inside my mind. In this world I am free.

What am I doing here? I am so lost. Everyday feels like one more day i spend wasting people’s energy and honestly why should they spend any of it on me? Who am I, other than an out of shape obstacle in everyone’s way. In many ways I am simply a punching bag waiting for the day I break and need to be replaced. Yes though I’ll be patched together with duct tape I won’t ever be truly whole and eventually the tape isn’t going to work and I’ll just crumble apart. I think the worst part about that whole experience is that I’ll most likely just be expected to “pull myself together” and continue my existence as a broken down punching bag. Every time I have a break down I tell myself unknowingly to pull myself together because not only am I the cause of my destruction I am also the healer of my own flawed being. I don’t feel like I’m allowed to be upset for as long as I want because that’s inconvenient and no one wants to deal with someone who is like that. It’s too draining to be that way. It only causes problems for everyone out there who is just trying to get through everyday of their own life.

I am a burden. So many times I’ve heard those words in my head. I burden my friends with my mood swings and my behaviour. I burden them with my problems when they have the time to listen. I expect them to listen but I know deep down they don’t have to but I have to even though half of the time I don’t want to and I know I don’t need to but I do it anyways. I burden them with my happiness during times where they are feeling sorrow. I burden them with my thoughts and opinions that are meaningless. I burden my family with my lack of drive and commitment. I’m not passionate enough and I strive for nothingness so I am a failure. I burden my family with my being here, constantly in need and being the black sheep. I burden them with my ideals and my fears. I burden them with my inabilities and my lack of common interest. I burden my mother with my lively hood. I burden so many people yet I’m too afraid to stop being that burden. What would life be without me I often wonder, it always seems a lot more coherent without me in the picture. My mother can focus on her son and husband because there is nothing keeping her from it. My family can continue to boast about their successful children without having to pause and weigh up which nice words they’re going to use to spare my feelings. I see the blunder I am and everything inside me wants to strive to be better but nothing responds the way it’s supposed to. My words and actions do not meet their mark and I’m constantly being the let down my mind has convinced me I am. What is wrong with me?

Where does my mind lie in all this mess and why does it stay there?

Words unsaid.

This was a letter I never got to send and in it were some of the words I never got to say to this person. Putting them into a physical form felt liberating so I never felt the need to send it.

So, you’re probably wondering, “Why would she write me a letter?”. Well to be honest I’ve been contemplating writing this letter for a long time. The concept stems from a very young version of me, I feel like expressing myself with words has always been a great way for me to release my inner tension. I didn’t know if I was actually going to give you this letter and if I’m being honest with myself, I still don’t know if you’ll ever see this letter.

Recently I’ve been helping Kiara* get through a rough heartbreak and there was something I told her that made me remember my past and what I would do to get through a time where I couldn’t get my words out vocally. She messaged me one day asking me for advice, she wanted to message the person that hurt her and tell that person exactly what she had to endure because she cared dearly for this person. I told her to send the message and to make sure that she put in everything she wanted to say. My reasoning for this was because I told her that after this message was sent there would be no more reason to send another. See if this person genuinely cared for her or ever did they would read that message and be compassionate enough to apologize for the hurt they caused and give her closure.

That word closure… It feels like such a funny word to say and to believe. To this day I don’t feel like I ever received any closure from you, or should I say us? Us… Even that feels foreign to say…

Maury* the time I spent with you was probably the most magical time of my life even though now when I look back on it I can see it was the most twisted time of my life. You were good to me for the most part of our relationship. You made me fall deeply in love with you and it felt good. I gave you my trust and my “firsts” (I stand by what I said, I don’t regret you being my first), you were my everything, I gave you my heart to do with as you pleased. I am disappointed that instead of looking after it, like you promised me you would, you decided to take a massive shit on it. What made it so much worse is that you didn’t even have the decency to give me back my heart after crushing it. Yes, you’re reading that correctly, You still have my heart. You don’t deserve to have it, but I don’t even know if I want it back… You’re like a crying child in a pool of tar, you draw people in, you get them to be vulnerable, you make them love you and I mean really love you, foolishly, unconditionally, soul crushingly, devotedly love you and then you pull them into the tar… You fill every crevice of their being and suffocate them until there’s nothing left to take, and you leave them empty. You left me empty. The funny thing is if I could go back I don’t know if I would stop myself from falling for you.

Everything I felt with you was always so intense, I was always at the end of the spectrum. When I was happy, it was the happiest I had ever been in my otherwise gloomy life, and when I was sad, it felt like I was being abandoned… It felt like every inch of my being was turning against me, like I was rejecting myself and leaving myself for dead. You will probably never know how much I loved you or how badly I wanted to be with you for the rest of my life. You gave me something to look forward to and I know I didn’t make it seem that way and maybe it’s because it frightened me. You always convinced me that you were so sure about me and I couldn’t reciprocate that as strongly as you did. I know that probably corroded the relationship for you, however it just made me realise that you didn’t know me as well as you claimed to. I could never be that person who was sure of their future. That kind of thing takes years to get me into a space where I can be certain, and I can’t give people a false hope that they’re going to be in my future because I don’t know the future. I can hope and dream about people being in my future, but I know deep down that anything can happen, and I can’t handle putting my hopes on something that fragile. That may be a flaw but someone who truly knows me and loves me would understand.

I don’t think you ever understood what losing you did to me. The way you handled it as well… wow… It kind of made me realise why you had so many exes. You didn’t even have the balls to break up with me properly… You called me to say we should take a break, pathetic don’t you think? The break up made me realise that nothing you ever made me believe about you was ever real. You only admitted to cheating on me after that entire shit fest of a situation ended and you had the nerve to get mad at me for responding the way I did. Do you know what I had to go through to get over you and to forgive you? You were so horrible towards me and all for what? I’ll never know because you will never tell me. You blamed me for your infidelity, for the distance and for getting upset with you, when I was well within my rights to be mad at you.

When it started I tried to still be your friend, you pushed me away. I tried to contain myself and I tried to be as mature as I could be about the entire situation, but you spat all of it back in my face. You flaunted your knew life in front of me without a care for what it was doing to me and you expected me to be happy for you. How much more did you want to take from me? I couldn’t believe how selfish one person could be and I hated myself for loving you. I wanted to punish myself for being so weak and I did. I punished my body for feeling anything for someone who didn’t give so much as an iota about me. I destroyed my body because I wanted to suffer for being just another fool in the long line of girls that fell for you. It felt good, the physical pain that is. My muscles ached from working out, my body poisoned from the alcohol, my mind wreaked from numbing my being and the bruise you gave me… All of it felt so good. Hurting felt good because I knew I was serving my punishment for loving you.

You weren’t even worth it at the end of my recovery. I began to realize that you weren’t worthy of the love I gave you nor the sacrifices I made for you. You never deserved me. That’s what helped me get over you. Every day I realized again and again that you weren’t worth the pain or the tears or the mix-tape Kiara made me to help me get over you. You weren’t worth a mention to therapist I had to go to after Wesley died. You aren’t worth the energy I put into you. So I ask myself why do you still think about him? Why do my favourite love songs remind me of you? Why do you appear in my dreams? Why do I anticipate those random phone calls from you every few months?

Closure. I have never gotten any closure from the people that hurt me. I never got any closure from Vinny*, I never got any closure from my father nor have I gotten any closure from the one person who I Love even more than I loved you. You’re just another person on the list of who is never going to give me any piece of mind and you know what? I can come to terms with that. I know that you are just going to be the way you are and there’s no changing that.

As I go through this whole process of writing up this letter I realize that half of what I’ve said is most likely going to fly over your head and I’m okay with that because this letter is more for me anyways.

I never got to finish my letter but in all honesty I stopped having the need for it. My life is no longer the same and I am no longer this person. I am thankful for her though because she was a part of my healing.

*names have been changed