another writing i found
i dont know why, when i feel this badly i think i've never felt so badly before and heres proof
" I sit here drained of practically all of my energy. The only surges of motion I have are attempts to purge my rage in one barely controllable motion. My nails reaching to my arm hoping to slice through my aggression only to be pulled away from my arm before damage is done. My mind pulsing with hurried flashes of racing cars, and tall buildings, haunting images of my own suicide. Pleading against it are the last childish ideas of hope. Yet the strength of one is far greater than the other and one only lies frightened and brutally abused. Half conscious I lie in my bed trying to find some comfort but none is there. I curl tighter and tighter in to a ball wishing everything around me would just disappear, that I could have one moment of complete silence. But my head won’t stop and I would give anything to escape life, forever. Flashbacks of every time I’ve ever hated, hurt, or burned this deeply brings back the waves of feelings that somehow grow like a hole. The more I remember the more I take away from what little stability I had. Its not just that I hate my life, that I’m uncomfortable, or that I feel unwanted, though all that looms at the tip of the iceberg. I find the deeper I search into this crevice of my soul, the more I realize that I hate everything. People in general drive me crazy, I can’t stand social situations and every stupid quirk about most everyone I find myself surrounded with makes me want to cut them with a biting tongue, and many times kick them repeatedly until they are silent and subordinate. I am evil. There are times where I enjoy people, and I have fun meeting new people and flirting with guys and feeling wanted, but it only seems to lead to this horrid feeling of emptiness and despair. Every move I make hurts someone, and I am a needy, self-serving whore, of both physical attraction and emotion. The more I think about how little I give or get out of the world the easier it is to justify my leaving it behind. The falsehoods seeping from every seam of this poorly designed place just makes me want to tear it down and laugh. There is no peace, and all that is not pain is not real. Never do I feel so deeply as when I feel badly. I realize in some shadow of our so called reality that this is no good, and I almost wish I could be reigned in and made better, but sadly I don’t feel I’m broken, I feel that this really is the hell of living, and to escape is to sell out. I’m not ok, and I’m pleading for help, but I am 18 after all, I am the older one. I’m not 10 years old, I’m not having scary dreams and I’m not helpless to the world, therefore I should by all accounts be able to help myself. There is no reason for my family, whom at this moment I either can’t stand or am entirely indifferent to, to have to pay to make me ‘better.’ It seems that whenever I express my pain, the only problem seen is the lack of their religion in my life and that, of course, is quickly remedied. And so I’ve been doing alright pretending thus far, until finally the pressure of it all burst to the point of depression again. Hello darkness my old friend. I was dead to the world for a long time now, pretending to be ok, pretending to be the good little church girl, and now I’m being forced out of my coma, and all I can think about is how appealing the end to my life has become. There is nothing to look forward to in life- debt, heartache, persecution for counter-cultural beliefs, indecisiveness, my nagging habit of setting goals and becoming overwhelmed, thus not achieving anything, not even the most remedial tasks, and worst of all, people. There are so few people I actually care about, and have never felt hurt by, or wanted to cringe at the thought of having to be social with. And I throw my emotions at them hoping to find someone who can actually accept me for who I am, but I drive them away, and I hurt myself more and more every time. People wonder why I can’t seem to hold a relationship, even a good one. The only time I’ve ever had someone know me fully was with chris, and he hurt me repeatedly. Now I’m turning into him and I don’t want to hurt people. I don’t want to think so lowly of myself that I hold others high enough to drop them to their death. I don’t want to play the emotional roller coaster game, where no one has control but everyone is scared and hurt most the time. But what is the price of love, I can’t find it anywhere. I know that there are people who can make this feeling go away, but they’re not available to me right now, I really have no one and I can’t even stay asleep. I’m just going to sit and wait, and hope someone will care, sadly it’ll only work if its someone I am willing to talk to at this point, and that’s a rather narrow focus. I’m out, I can’t type anymore. Goodnight, I hope I didn’t scare anyone if someone decided to read this. "
written last year. when will it end???
" I sit here drained of practically all of my energy. The only surges of motion I have are attempts to purge my rage in one barely controllable motion. My nails reaching to my arm hoping to slice through my aggression only to be pulled away from my arm before damage is done. My mind pulsing with hurried flashes of racing cars, and tall buildings, haunting images of my own suicide. Pleading against it are the last childish ideas of hope. Yet the strength of one is far greater than the other and one only lies frightened and brutally abused. Half conscious I lie in my bed trying to find some comfort but none is there. I curl tighter and tighter in to a ball wishing everything around me would just disappear, that I could have one moment of complete silence. But my head won’t stop and I would give anything to escape life, forever. Flashbacks of every time I’ve ever hated, hurt, or burned this deeply brings back the waves of feelings that somehow grow like a hole. The more I remember the more I take away from what little stability I had. Its not just that I hate my life, that I’m uncomfortable, or that I feel unwanted, though all that looms at the tip of the iceberg. I find the deeper I search into this crevice of my soul, the more I realize that I hate everything. People in general drive me crazy, I can’t stand social situations and every stupid quirk about most everyone I find myself surrounded with makes me want to cut them with a biting tongue, and many times kick them repeatedly until they are silent and subordinate. I am evil. There are times where I enjoy people, and I have fun meeting new people and flirting with guys and feeling wanted, but it only seems to lead to this horrid feeling of emptiness and despair. Every move I make hurts someone, and I am a needy, self-serving whore, of both physical attraction and emotion. The more I think about how little I give or get out of the world the easier it is to justify my leaving it behind. The falsehoods seeping from every seam of this poorly designed place just makes me want to tear it down and laugh. There is no peace, and all that is not pain is not real. Never do I feel so deeply as when I feel badly. I realize in some shadow of our so called reality that this is no good, and I almost wish I could be reigned in and made better, but sadly I don’t feel I’m broken, I feel that this really is the hell of living, and to escape is to sell out. I’m not ok, and I’m pleading for help, but I am 18 after all, I am the older one. I’m not 10 years old, I’m not having scary dreams and I’m not helpless to the world, therefore I should by all accounts be able to help myself. There is no reason for my family, whom at this moment I either can’t stand or am entirely indifferent to, to have to pay to make me ‘better.’ It seems that whenever I express my pain, the only problem seen is the lack of their religion in my life and that, of course, is quickly remedied. And so I’ve been doing alright pretending thus far, until finally the pressure of it all burst to the point of depression again. Hello darkness my old friend. I was dead to the world for a long time now, pretending to be ok, pretending to be the good little church girl, and now I’m being forced out of my coma, and all I can think about is how appealing the end to my life has become. There is nothing to look forward to in life- debt, heartache, persecution for counter-cultural beliefs, indecisiveness, my nagging habit of setting goals and becoming overwhelmed, thus not achieving anything, not even the most remedial tasks, and worst of all, people. There are so few people I actually care about, and have never felt hurt by, or wanted to cringe at the thought of having to be social with. And I throw my emotions at them hoping to find someone who can actually accept me for who I am, but I drive them away, and I hurt myself more and more every time. People wonder why I can’t seem to hold a relationship, even a good one. The only time I’ve ever had someone know me fully was with chris, and he hurt me repeatedly. Now I’m turning into him and I don’t want to hurt people. I don’t want to think so lowly of myself that I hold others high enough to drop them to their death. I don’t want to play the emotional roller coaster game, where no one has control but everyone is scared and hurt most the time. But what is the price of love, I can’t find it anywhere. I know that there are people who can make this feeling go away, but they’re not available to me right now, I really have no one and I can’t even stay asleep. I’m just going to sit and wait, and hope someone will care, sadly it’ll only work if its someone I am willing to talk to at this point, and that’s a rather narrow focus. I’m out, I can’t type anymore. Goodnight, I hope I didn’t scare anyone if someone decided to read this. "
written last year. when will it end???