What is it about me that makes me so easy to throw away? Why do I love all the people who need me to make them feel whole and who will leave me as soon as they’re healed? When will I learn? When will I begin to heal? When will someone take care of me? When will I take care of me?
Jan 19, 2019
Jan 19, 2019 at 1:10 AM UTC
The way you lie to me is so addicting.
I know it's an intoxicating oversaturated sweetness, but if I want it to be true bad enough, then it could be, right?
Jan 17, 2019
Jan 17, 2019 at 3:48 AM UTC
Why am I so easy to forget? So easily used as a tool to heal others, so it’s seldom that someone stops to ask if I need any help. I’m not the girl people love, I’m the girl they use. Who wants someone so damaged? So used? How do I begin to heal if I keep allowing people to tell me empty sentiments? If I allow people who just say they love me to have my body and mind? My thoughts have gotten darker since we last spoke. You told me you couldn’t ever be attached to someone who is so troubled, but you still told me you loved me. I often wonder if there’s a god and if he hears me begging at night to help me. Whether it’s ending my life or helping me see the light or whatever other cliché religious people tell me. I say I want to be okay, but I keep allowing these people to have me. To use me until I’m too broken to be beneficial. I miss you so much. God, are you there?
Jan 17, 2019
Jan 17, 2019 at 3:46 AM UTC
How do you find your voice when you've been drowned out for so long?
How do you accept the help you're screaming for if you feel like everyone's against you? If people have been against you your whole life?
To be able to get up and shower or get ready is something I long for. To not feel so ******* bleak. So ******* useless.
I'm like a bad joke that everyone always laughs at. That everyone dumps their baggage on to later abandon.
Why did you tell me you love me if you didn't mean it? Why did you tell me I meant something if you knew you'd leave me a day later? I'm a joke people know they can get away with laughing at because I'm too ******* meek and nice to tell them otherwise.
Putting other people first is all I know. When will I start to take care of me?
I'm sorry I'm not enough mom. I try so hard to be everything you want. I try not to relapse and I try not to hurt myself, but the thoughts are getting darker and you don't notice me unless you
want to ridicule me. I'm so sorry I'm not how you want me to be.
I've felt not good enough since I was a small child and I don't think I can hide it behind doing good deeds for others anymore.
I think it's time for me to leave.
Jan 17, 2019
Jan 17, 2019 at 3:28 AM UTC
**If you asked me where my life was a year ago, it’d probably come as a shock when I said I was looking for death in a ******* fueled euphoria at endless parties, hoping every person who asked, “Are you okay?” would save me from myself.
If you asked where my life was a year ago, I would say that a lot of days were hazy because Xanax was the best way to forgive and forget, and at that point, my body hurt without it.
If you asked me where I was a year ago, I would tell stories of how I left my abusive boyfriend just to become my own abuser, and how I left far more marks and scars on myself than he ever did.
If you asked me where I was a year ago, I’d mention how heartbroken I was and how badly I searched for love at the bottom of endless liquor bottles, and how I never quite stayed awake long enough to see if even a glimmer of love was there.
If you asked me where I was a year ago, I’d tell you I spent a week or two very sick trying to get the drugs out of my system so I could see the sadness in my parent’s eyes disappear when they looked at me.
If you asked me where I was a year ago, I’d tell you that my mental health dilapidated, and that I spent a night swallowing pills until it landed me in the hospital. I’d tell you that I unfortunately didn’t meet death that night and mourned over the loss of my sanity and what could’ve been.
Now, if you ask me how I am today, I’ll tell you that I still get very sad, and there are still days I want to die; However, I’ll also say that I am clean, and my parents are proud, and I found very healthy love, and I found myself. I’ll say that I realize the gasp of air you get when you finally come up from drowning is the best feeling, and things get a bit brighter.**
Jan 2, 2016
Jan 2, 2016 at 3:50 AM UTC
**When I was in an abusive relationship, I told myself I deserved it. I told myself I should be more obedient, as if I was a dog. My leash was held so tight that I couldn’t muster any words out even if I wanted to.
When I was in an abusive relationship, I soaked in every insult and only ever released apologies.
When I was in an abusive relationship, some days I flinched when he raised his hand or began to speak and other days I just sat there waiting for it. When my mom would ask about the bruises I would be surprised because I didn’t know my body was still reacting to it when my mind wasn’t.
When I was in an abusive relationship, tying nooses was a nightly thing and nothing to even be alarmed about, blood stained sheets were the norm, and suicide notes were just normal letters.
When I was in an abusive relationship, I took many different kinds of drugs throughout the day and didn’t really know which combination would **** me. Would the coke, Xanax, and alcohol **** me? Or would it be the alcohol, ****** and oxy?
When I was in an abusive relationship, all concern for myself vanished. As my addictions to many different pills such as Xanax, ****** Hydro, Oxy and many more grew, I started to smile again.
When I was in an abusive relationship, being asked how many drugs I was on was not rude or unexpected.
When I was in an abusive relationship, leaving permanently just didn’t seem like an option.
When I was in an abusive relationship, I had unconditional love for my attacker and always made sure he was okay even after he hit me.
When I was in an abusive relationship, one day, I had a revelation and found my voice.
Now, I am no longer in an abusive relationship.**
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 1:32 AM UTC
*I once fell in love with a boy who smelled of stale cigarettes, liquor, and burning desperation.
The first secret he ever revealed to me was that all he knew was being alone and running from everything in this world. At the time, I told him I’d be his rest stop and didn’t realize that he’d eventually have to start running again.
I once fell in love with a boy who had suicidal tendencies and often never slept.
With tired eyes, he would tell me he just wanted it to stop and would cry to me for hours.
I once fell in love with a boy I'd do anything for regardless of the consequences.
I once fell in love with a boy who had no family.
Many days, he would call me in the middle of the night and tell me how much he cherished me and how much I made up for his lost family.
I once fell in love with a boy who was desperate for love, but couldn’t give it because he was at war with himself.
All his empty “I love you’s” were believable, but I wasn’t properly trained to fight his demons or to take down the walls he built up so high inside of himself. The weapons I tried to provide were too outdated and did nothing.
I once fell in love with a boy who hated his mother.
His hate for her was often reflected back onto me, and I spent many nights crying.
I once fell in love with a boy who would tell me the sweetest things, and be able to turn around and leave me black and blue.
I once fell in love with a boy who sold drugs.
I worried about his safety, but he very often assured me nothing would happen and would kiss me then thank me for caring.
I once fell in love with a boy who was terrified of being a failure and was driven by money.
Many days, I would go ignored or mistreated and he would apologize to me by buying me opulent gifts that didn’t really make up for the small heartbreaks I endured.
I once fell in love with a boy who did not care about me, and didn't even check to see if I was okay when my heart broke.
I once fell in love with a boy who knew he was destined to run away and break my heart.
The first secret he ever revealed to me was that all he knew was being alone and running from everything in this world.
At the time, I told him I’d be his rest stop and didn’t realize that he’d eventually have to start running again.
When he was finally strong enough to start running again, I wasn’t really prepared for it because in the months I'd spent with him, I'd grown selfish and wanted him by my side forever.
I thought he’d stop and rest forever because it's far easier to stop and do nothing, but I had forgotten who he was and forgot that I had been helping him train so he could run towards something better instead of running away from his past.
I once fell in love with a boy who ran off with the best parts of me.*
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 2:11 AM UTC
I realized that I only miss you when I'm high.
I'm always high though, so maybe I'm trying to prolong your stay and torture myself with the thought of not being able to have you again.
I am realizing even more now as I write this, that I only miss you when I'm high.
Maybe I just want to remember you and pretend to be able to feel you again.
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 12:05 PM UTC
*I used to cut my wrists because I hoped the answers would spill out with my blood.
Ironically, I wasn’t really trying to **** myself, I just really wanted to find a reason as to why I should live.
I used to cut my wrists because the blood seemed to wash away all the pain from yesterday, and prepare me for the next.
Ironically, while I was killing myself slowly, the deeper I cut, the more I began to realize how much I needed to breathe.
I used to practice tying nooses because I was trying to figure out what I was doing wrong and why it never seemed to get the job done.
Ironically, I didn’t want to **** myself because I had nothing, I was trying to **** myself because I felt there was more opportunities in the afterlife.
I used to be a very sad and confused child who seemed to almost chase death.
Ironically, on my slightly suicidal adventures, I felt very alive and every racing beat of my heart made me remember that I am no different from any other human.
I used to chase a bottle of pills with ***** because I thought it would be a good tonic.
Ironically, when I’d lie on the bathroom floor with tears rolling down my cheeks, throwing up blood and food, I’d laugh because it showed how mortal I was.
I used to play games with death and laugh when I beat him.
Ironically, as much as I did want to die, I wanted to be alive more--feel alive. Feel like a ******* human being and know that I’m just as vulnerable to death as everyone else.
I used to cut my wrists because I hoped the answers would spill out with my blood, but I learned that* the answers won’t ever be found there, no matter how deep and hard you look.
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 1:20 AM UTC
During my manic episodes, you found me fun, fervent, even amazing. You told me that you wouldn’t trade my love for anything.
You told me that I made the butterflies dance in your stomach,
and made the demons disappear in your head.
With every “I love you,” there was a smirk and a kiss.
You told me that I was one of a kind
and you’d be there for me no matter what because you couldn’t imagine living without me.
After my first bad episode, you started telling me that my love was overbearing and you needed space.
You told me that you felt suffocated and I was like a child craving attention from their mother. You told me I was too repetitive and you just wanted to go get high.
Every time I said “I love you” you looked at me, shrugged, and said “me too.”
I asked you what happened to “forever” and you said only sane girls keep their prince.
You acted as if I got to pick and choose what disorder I wanted. As if being bipolar was a luxury I wasn’t taking advantage of.
When you got sent to a mental institution for attempting suicide, I searched for you for six hours until your mom told me where you were.
After you returned,
I helped you find yourself again and lost myself in the process.
I sacrificed everything for your well-being,
and you had no interest in mine.
You made me believe that being bipolar made you a terrible person, but then I looked at you with tearful eyes,
and got a peek at what terrible really is.
Thanks to you, I know who I am.
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 4:56 PM UTC