I sleep well when I’m high.
Anxiety fades, waves of thoughts ease.
My mind stays so blank sadness is out of the question.
I live well when I’m high.

There is more to a person than their weakness you happened to notice first.
Your label only pulls them apart from themself and into the abyss of abandonment you directed them to believe they belonged in the first place. Stranded and alone.

Let go,
of yourself, let go of what you worked for.
The pain allows relief.
Odd relief.
The flow of blood reminds you that you’re still alive when you felt you’ve stopped breathing.
Second line, third line,... tenth.
Clean up.
Work hard.
Relapse.

I wore short sleeves today.
I couldn’t help but wonder what people thought when they looked at me.
I checked the nutritional facts on every food item I picked up and put every single thing back down where I found it.
I kept my head low and walked quickly but quietly.
I worried about the odds of someone taking me.
I put the groceries in my my car looking around as if I was expecting someone in particular to be there.

It’s always at night when I want to run the farthest.
When I want to escape what’s not there.

Politics.
*******. well, politics.
“There was another ****** in downtown Baltimore”
Racism...
As much as those topics can be true cruel, why is there never anything about the 10 year old girl who was ***** last night?
Nothing about the little boy molested by the grown adult he once trusted.
Nothing about the millions of people who deserve closure in this world.
**** the justice system.
There is never any justice.

I post pictures of my body as if I were proud of it, but I’m not.
My thoughts can’t escape my mind and my mind feels like it’s floating outside my body.
I tell myself I’m gonna die one day as if I know it will be soon or maybe because I want it to be.
I fear my future constantly even though I know all it takes to succeed is hard work which I know I can do.
I’m scared that if I even do get the opportunity to build a family I’ll ruin my children with actions I cannot anticipate.
My head is full of “what if’s” and doubt.
Sometimes I look at the fading scars on my body and wonder if I should let them fade because it’s a mark that initially was meant to be permanent, it’s a part of me I feel I can’t let go.

I face the pain brought to me from my own thoughts daily
My eyes look empty, but behind them my mind stays flooded  with thoughts reminding me that there probably won’t be at day I’m no longer broken.
Here I am. Me. Consumed by my own thoughts forever restricting me from the happiness I was once promised.

Please go, but don’t leave.
Don’t be in my presence, but please hold me.
I don’t want to talk to you, but I want to know you’re there.
I’m not okay.
I’m not okay.
I’m not...

YOUR self worth is not determined by what others think of you.
It’s not determined by the that fact that you may not have the body type that is praised over social media.
It’s not determined by what society claims to be good or bad.
YOU are Worth it.
YOU always have been worth it and you always will be.
YOU’RE worth every second someone takes out of their day to talk to you.
YOU’RE worth every breath you take.
YOU are blinded from your beauty that we all see you have.
YOU are worth it.

No one ever told me recovery would be the hardest part.

I’m afraid.
Afraid to talk, afraid to draw attention to myself once again.
I feel trapped in a small box that’s covered in puppy’s and rainbows that only the outside can see, the inside contains nothing but darkness and unwillingness to speak of the of the pain deep within me. GOD ******* ****** SOMEONE GET ME OUT OF THIS BOX
Why am I okay when I’m not really okay, why is everything okay when I show that I’m happy for once in my life GOD *******...
please just someone get me out of this box.
“You’re doing so well I can just see it, you’re glowing”
Am I ******* doing okay? AM I? Because I didn’t know I was doing okay, who told you I was doing okay?
I don’t want to be the center of attention when I ask for help but it seems as though that’s all I am when I do.
There is so much inside me containing things, just things.
If I reveal those thing will they actually believe me, will they actually listen or will they smile and nod and tell me everything will be okay when it’s not okay, they just tell me it’ll be okay so that way I’m “okay”.
god ******* ****** get me out of this box.

I don’t know
Words are just words that form into sentences that get stuck in my brain for days with little room to escape
Are they mine or yours?
What’s is real what is fake, what’s a truth and what’s  a lie.
I’d like you to confirm...
Just so I know...
I’ve noticed you’ve been distracted lately...
It was just a Dream right?...
Just a dream, a dream.
A reoccurring dream
Maybe it was just a dream.
Why doesn’t it feel like a dream?

Maybe the idea of feeling secure in my own sadness is just an illusion, maybe not.
I find myself longing for everlasting happiness while still sitting in the darkness of my bedroom with the door closed and my blinds down.
It’s almost as if my body craves loneliness as it’s way out.
My mind replaces temporary with forever too often, like it doesn’t know any better.
I’ve dug a hole too deep for me to get out of and I’ve allowed myself to get comfortable in it.
Why does temporary scare me?

Thoughts. Too many thoughts that contain an overwhelming amount of words that continue to flood my mind, forming unanticipated actions, which cause mistakes which result in hurt, and repeat. How do you stop thinking?

Words can leave just as many bruises as hands.

How do you separate what’s real from what’s not when all you see is what you thought you’ve been imagining?
I’ve been stuck, sinking through a continuous loop of memories that I didn’t even know existed.

I’m held hostage by the darkness of my room.
Memories and thoughts barricade my door.  I think I stopped breathing around the same time I realized it was darkness numbing the loneliness within me.

Why the **** does happiness require so much more effort than sadness?

You’ve become just another nightmare.
Your arms no longer make me feel safe, but trapped.  
The thought of your presence scares me.
Your so called unconditional love, became a word that had no meaning, which became fists which left marks.
I see you when you’re not there.
Please leave, just leave.

What would I leave behind? My mind and body feel so far from each other. I am my own burden, my own reason. I’d rather not be anybody else’s. How is it that our minds can make us so selfish? Feeling so alone knowing there is nothing but love around us. Feeling used when someone else keeps expressing their baggage. They must not care about how I feel, right? They wouldn’t understand me because I am alone. One with my flooded mind. My existence ******* worthless. I am a burden. I should stop being so hypocritical and take my own advice that doesn’t do a **** thing for anyone. I should just go. What would I leave behind?

I woke up this morning.
I did my hair.
I allowed sunlight in my room without the sudden urge to close my blinds.
I attempted to love myself today.

Knowing your worth is hard once the voices in your head that remind you that you have non get louder.
They are screaming.
My head is pounding.
With every pulse a tear falls, soaking into my pillow
There is an ocean I cannot cross, I have no bridge.
But I’ll get over it eventually right?

I miss the feeling I felt when I had you, though it was not real.

I wish you didn’t love me.
I wish I could scream until you understood every little thought that roamed my head.
I wish it were easier to let you in.
You think you know me, yet I feel we are still strangers.

I wish I could understand.
Understand myself and the feelings my body and mind contain.
I want answers, so many answers that I’m not too sure I’ll achieve.
Why does my body feel imprisoned when I am the one in control?
I am in control, well at least I think I’m in control
Am I in control?
I thought I was doing okay, I thought I was fixed
Why does everything get so much harder the moment I finally feel okay?

I hate the girl I see in the mirror, but she’s trapped inside it.

I feel not being able to cry almost makes things worst sometimes.

How do I fix me?

Regret and terror consumes me.
I wish there were easier ways, easier nights, easier mornings.
I struggled to get out of bed this morning yet I’ve been wide awake since 5:30
Im not able to fall asleep because of my thoughts, my frightening thoughts.
I’m constantly left wondering who actually cares, who actually wants to help, and who just wants to know.
I wish I just never opened my mouth
Why does suffering in silence sound so much better than the outcomes.

Remembering hurts sometimes.
Trying to figure out if you’re remembering or imagining hurts sometimes.
Feeling shattered on the inside and not being able to piece it back together hurts sometimes.
Not knowing what to say hurts sometimes.
Feeling like you’d cause more pain speaking hurts sometimes.
Feeling so lost because you don’t know what you need, when people ask you what you need to get better ******* hurts sometimes.

Most times it’s more than just sometimes.

I am tired, exhausted.
I think and I think until there is nothing left to feel because my mind has become so blank
I am empty.
I am lost.
How long do I have to keep living through this?
I wish it were okay to just let go.

It is so hard to want to get better, when your mind is telling you “this can be a good thing”.
It’s so hard to want love yourself when you can’t find a single part of you worth loving.
I’m supposed to be getting better.

you know that feeling of emptiness that has you subconsciously staring at walls for hours?
Or the feeling of  anger and confusion built up in your body that is only expressed through a few tears and a crooked smile?

Me too.

Lost in thought, time has frozen.
Words are spoken which are heard, but not processed.
Eyes so focused on one thing everything else becomes a blur.
My eyes are watering, did I forget to blink? or are my emotions exposing themselves because I’ve been so numb I didn’t feel the need to talk about it myself

1-800-273-8255

I can no longer find my purpose and my urge to seek it has vanished.  
Every word, every breath, is nothing but a waist of my existence.  
When can it be over?

They say they wish to look like me, to sound like me, to live their lives like me, so do they not even know me?
My body feels like a torture chamber, my voice feels silenced yet I know I can speak.
It’s not about no one understanding, it’s about  no one taking the time to try to.

Sometimes I feel like a broken object in the store that everyone sees, but never picks up.

I know how it feels to lose hope. To not be able to see a way out. Please don’t give up. I’m here and I love you.

The world has fallen still, I am frozen in time.
I lay and stare but feel nothing, it feels good.
Voices have seized, the light became dim
I’m living in my dream of silence.
I like this dream, it’s a good dream.
It’s me in the quiet darkness.

Often times I have unrealistic hopes that the reflection in the mirror won’t be me, but there I am.
My eyes fixate on what I hate most and I allow myself to validate that.
“I would love my body if...”
“If only I could change...”
If only I were invisible.

Sometimes we get angry over what one cannot understand, wondering how far must I go for you to see I am not okay.
Those thoughts can consume you.
There aren’t many people in this world who won’t face some sort of emotional trauma in their life time but it’s hard not to question whether or not that small amount of people are lucky for it.
I’m proud of the wisdom I’ve gained through my experiences but if you were to look at me would you think it’s too much?
I feel like I’ve grown but at the same time it’s like once one thing get better, another falls apart.
What is it like to be “normal”?