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?
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.
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.
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.
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?
Sour Rambles 