old writings
I found an old journal I used to keep online that only had a few entries. When I read them my heart ached. Being with Lee has helped me to heal so much. Yes, I still deal with the darkness. It's still there inside of me, but every time it starts to rise up again to consume me Lee is right there holding his arms out to pull me close and hold me until the storm passes.
I deleted the journal, but I did take some pieces of the stuff that was heavy and not just me updating about my day... and here it is.
"I can't stop myself from crying, its pouring out of me like the rain, pouring from my heart and flooding the world. Even if I tried, it could never stop because all of my emotions are draining....draining into death."
"I enjoyed watching the blood run down my arm, run down the razor blade, and drip to the floor. I loved watching my flesh tear apart and open and start gushing. I loved thinking of the death that should have been awaiting me. A little deeper every time, and over the old scars....no one ever could tell. Till I went to much....till I fucking lost my mind for that bit and just started slashing like crazy. I fucking hate myself. I hate what I do, I hate who I am."
While reading this I was able to view it from an outside perspective, as if the person who wrote it was just someone I knew and not myself. My heart ached for her, for her pain, for her desperate cries of help. All of that is screaming for someone to prove her worth something. No wonder she made the choices she made in life.
I deleted the journal, but I did take some pieces of the stuff that was heavy and not just me updating about my day... and here it is.
"I can't stop myself from crying, its pouring out of me like the rain, pouring from my heart and flooding the world. Even if I tried, it could never stop because all of my emotions are draining....draining into death."
"I enjoyed watching the blood run down my arm, run down the razor blade, and drip to the floor. I loved watching my flesh tear apart and open and start gushing. I loved thinking of the death that should have been awaiting me. A little deeper every time, and over the old scars....no one ever could tell. Till I went to much....till I fucking lost my mind for that bit and just started slashing like crazy. I fucking hate myself. I hate what I do, I hate who I am."
While reading this I was able to view it from an outside perspective, as if the person who wrote it was just someone I knew and not myself. My heart ached for her, for her pain, for her desperate cries of help. All of that is screaming for someone to prove her worth something. No wonder she made the choices she made in life.