I’m posting two journal entries since the first one is rather short. Hope you enjoy! Comment/like/subscribe/share if you want to see more! 🙂
January 24, 2016
“So many thoughts that I can’t get out of my head…” It’s almost time again. I can feel it. I don’t want to do it anymore. I’m so tired of trying.
January 26, 2016
If I tell you, “I love you,” will you stay? What if I tell you that I’m not okay? How much of this can you take; will you run away like all the others? I told you I was crazy, but you didn’t believe me. Are you starting to see it now? Do you have what it takes to handle me? It’s not easy loving someone like this. You don’t know what to say to me, I can tell it makes you confused and uncomfortable. I’m trying to conquer these feelings of regret, depression, anxiety and self-hatred. It just doesn’t come easily for me like it does for you. I’m different, I told you that. It can be a good thing, but it will ultimately be my downfall. Can you see yourself spending your life with me? I feel like I’ll never have someone to call my own. I’m too complicated, too emotional, too fucked up. There’s no fixing me.
I cut myself last night, but I didn’t cry. Butter knives make great weapons of self-destruction because they’re so dull. You have to press deep into your skin and carve away at it. There wasn’t any blood, but that’s okay. The pain was enough for me. The endorphins it sent through my body sent me into a depressed mania, if that makes any sense at all. I got a rush, a high, an elevated sense of mood all while still feeling low. Usually it ends once I cut, I guess I need to cut harder, deeper, and in more places next time.
Look into my eyes, I want you to see the darkness there. They’re clouded over, it’s creeping up once again. I can feel it lurking in the back of my head like a vulture watching its prey. It’s almost time to fall, the voices are talking to me again; taunting me, telling me I’m not good enough and that I never will be. If I told you what they want me to do, would you stay? Probably not, nobody ever does. They can’t handle me like this. I want them to stop. Please just make them go away. Make them go away. Make them go away. Make them go away. MAKE THEM GO AWAY.
Kiss me. Hug me. Touch me. Distract me. Help me take the pain away. The alcohol numbs the pain, the cutting induces it, and the sex steals away the emotions. I don’t know how to make love anymore. It’s strictly sexual. I’ve been hurt too many times; I don’t think I know how to love anyone. I wonder if I’ll get that back.
I’m standing at the entrance of mania right now, nothing can go wrong. I’m elated, everything is perfect. Look at my eyes, they’re happy again; the sparkle is back.
It’s coming back. And I’m ready for it.