Putting Together All My Pieces and Seeing What I’ll Find

God damnit.

You know I really tried. I was doing so well. I had my shit together for the better part of 5 weeks. I was accepted into my new high school. I was okay.

Now, I feel like I’m slipping under again. I hadn’t cut in a really long time, but I relapsed tonight. I tried to tell myself I didn’t need it, but I was having a panic attack and NOTHING could calm me down but that.

I look back into my past and I can recall that things have been this way for my whole life.

Last year, I became really depressed, but I couldn’t recognize it at the time. I didn’t know how to let it go, so I wrote the horrible thoughts in my head in a notebook.

Roughly 5 or 6 years ago, my mother took me to a therapist for just one appointment and, now that I think about it, I was trying to make sense of early depression. I told the therapist that I didn’t like to be left alone because my thoughts made me feel sad and I’d get a pain in my chest. She gave me a CD that was intended to use hypnosis to help me rid myself of my thoughts.

Even farther before that, I remember a significantly memorable roadtrip with my mom and sister. For some reason I had thoroughly convinced myself that my mother was going to pull over to the side of the road and kick me out of the car. She’d given me absolutely no reason to think this, but I had it set in my mind that she was seconds away from leaving me alone on the side of the road. I began to cry uncontrollably in the backseat. Neither my mother nor my sister noticed.

I don’t know what to do.

Maybe this is just part of who I am and how my life will be.



Resurfacing With My Sights Set on Tomorrow

I have been happy. For the past 4-5 days, I have felt genuine happiness. Remembering what it feels like to recognize an emotion that doesn’t tear me apart is a ginormous weight off my shoulders. I have started telling my dorm mates that I won’t be returning next year, but it’s not nearly as hard as I’d feared it would be. I can see a light at the end of this tunnel and I feel magnificent. School is becoming easier, I can actually talk to my friends, and I don’t hate the girl in the mirror anymore. I think I found my way out.



My Unorthodox Savior: High School

I have finally decided on a new school for senior year. It’s an all girls catholic private school in the city that my parents just bought their new home in. Making this decision has started to change my mood a little bit. I haven’t wanted to die nearly as much. I am still incredibly irritable and negative, but I see a vague purpose to life. I might be almost happy.



A Safe Little Cage of Darkness

I am in the final stretch before Spring Break. I have no idea what I’m doing though. My mom is coming to visit this weekend to talk with me about possibly switching schools for senior year. I don’t think I can take another year here. This place destroys me. Everywhere does, but, here, I can’t even cry by myself. I am under constant supervision and all I want in the world is to be able to scream at the top of my lungs to let out some of the noise.

How many times do I have to repeat “I’m fine. I’m just tired” before someone will catch on. Until they see I don’t know what it’s like not to be sad. It’s my natural state now. It’s become my own twisted safe haven that I cradle myself in. My counselor asked me if I wanted to get better the other day. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t say yes. I just told him I didn’t know because I have no idea who I am. I don’t want to be blind and stupid as a sacrifice for temporary false happiness. I couldn’t do it.

Is it really so wrong that I wouldn’t really care if this breath was my last. If tonight when I fall asleep, I don’t open my eyes again.



This Untruthful Skin I Wear

This life has made me a liar. I have not told one person the whole truth. Not even myself. I lie to myself so I can manage to get by. I am no longer who I thought I was. I am just the host of this skin that I drive to make it through the day. I don’t feel like myself. I don’t feel like anyone really. I just feel empty. Vacant. I continue waking up though.

Whether I want to or not. I wake up every morning. I pretend I can see the sun. In all honesty, I have no clue what I am because I sure as hell don’t feel human. I just feel like this carcass. I’m an empty shell filled with nothing but hateful words and plans for the end.

I tried to reach out to my mom last night. I told her it was a rough night and I was feeling broken. She had no idea how to respond. Ultimately she told me to “try to get some sleep”. That’s just the problem. I haven’t slept much more than 4 hours a night for the past month or so. I just stay awake and let my mind wander.

Kitty came back from jail this past Friday. We caught up and she said she’s not feeling as bad anymore. I am happy for her. I hope she gets where she wants to be eventually.

As for me, dark days are all I know anymore. I have become the person I once misunderstood. I see myself die every day. As I walk across campus, I’ll visualize my body strung up in one of the trees. Lifeless. In my classes, I can see myself grabbing a pair of scissors off a desk and opening my neck from ear to ear. It’s in everything I do. Even on days that aren’t as bad, I inhale and exhale this darkness.

I’m tired of hating myself. I’m worn out trying to fake being okay. I hate that my hips and ankles are shredded and scarred. I’m an embarrassment. I know that for sure, to say the least.



Standing Over an Open Flame and Freezing Cold

Just when I think I know what might happen, I get the rug pulled out from under me. Kitty went to jail on Thursday. I didn’t cry. I didn’t throw a fit. I didn’t feel anything. I give up. I’m beginning to feel a numbness. If I don’t lose her in one way, it’s another. I just can’t take it.
I want to feel freedom. I want to feel hopeful. I want to feel happy. I want to feel desire to see tomorrow. I want to feel alive.
I found myself more than once this past weekend almost hoping a car would swerve off the road and hit me. That I’d get lung cancer and slowly deteriorate. That I’d slip into unconsciousness and never come back up to the surface. I want an out. I feel everything and nothing. I’m the numbest I’ve felt in a while but the most overwhelmed with emotion that I could imagine. I’m gaining weight. I’m failing 2 classes and barely passing the rest. I have no desire to begin moving foward with building my college career. I am swallowed by my guilt for everything I’ve done. I feel like no one sees me as any sort of person of value. I don’t really see myself as valuable either. I’m just sinking and the people I’m calling out to for help won’t even listen.
I want to be done hurting.

Saying Goodbye Decades Too Early

Soon. Kitty’s telling me soon. I have to accept it now. I know I can no longer change her mind. I can’t get help for her because I know why she wants to go. I understand everything. I couldn’t have made it this far if I were her.

She’s the strongest person I know. Woman. She’s the strongest woman I know. She carried her family on her shoulders for far too long. She’s been raped. She has 3 lifelong diseases that she fights every day. She’s been cheated on. She accidentally killed her child before she knew she was pregnant. Her father beat her. Her mother left her. Lots of people hate her. She hates herself too.

We raised each other. I’ve known her for over 9 1/2. We met in 2nd grade. I had just moved into town and my first week at school I was teased for coming from a wealthy family and she came to my rescue. We have been inseparable ever since. We shaped each other as human beings. We molded our damaged childhood into a dysfunctional adolescence. We made a language all our own. We watched the world destroy one another and were their to catch each other every time.

I hate myself for not calling her dad or saying something to anyone else, but that’s not what she wants. She deserves more than this shit that life has handed her. We’ve talked about this before and I know she wouldn’t say any of this if she didn’t mean it. Call me a horrible friend. Call me a murder. Honestly, I’m letting her save herself. Even if I did tell someone, she’d find a way to do it. She’d also die hating me, which I could never bear. There is no other way. Not if I want what’s best for her.

We already talked about everything. Any final requests. Where she’ll leave the notes for everyone. What things she wants me to have and what I’m supposed to give to others. It’s almost sick how easy it was to talk about it with her.

I tried to talk her out of it, but it’s no use. I have told her every thought in my head about her doing this, but she won’t hear it. She just asked me to stay strong and watch out for everyone else for her.

It’s funny. I lost my dad when I was 9 1/2 and I’ve known her just as long. I asked her to find him for me and tell him I love him.

She swore to always stay with me. I don’t believe in heaven or hell. I just believe that when we die, we walk the earth for all eternity. Kitty thinks that too. She said she’ll walk with me everywhere. For my whole life.

I really love her more than I could ever say. She knows that, but she can’t be happy here.



The Infinite Pain of Watching Someone Slip Away

I think I might lose Kitty. She has her mind set on leaving this world. What will I do without her. I can’t hardly breathe.

She’s been my very best friend for 9 years. We are supposed to grow old together.

“Not today” she said. Tomorrow? Next week? I couldn’t do that.

I’d be the last to know. I’d be left in the dark and alone. She’s all I’ve got left.



The Downward Spiral of an Inmate in Jess’s Mind

I’m getting worse. I couldn’t hear a thing during my classes today. My head is too full to absorb anything else. The voices spent the whole day screaming at me about worthlessness and failure. Even the oxygen entering my lungs was thick and heavy like smog. The weight on my chest never let up for even a moment. Yes, I smiled at people as they’d walk by. Yes, when someone asked me how I was doing I told them “I’m great!”, but none of it felt real. I was walking through the day cut off from the world by a veil drawn between me and everyone else. I just feel sick. There’s this huge lump in my throat all the time and nothing can scare it away. I’m fighting for my life. I wake up in a deadlier battle than the day before. I am my sole enemy. There is no winning; only surrender. If I try to fight back with weapons, I only injure myself. If I lay low and try to let it pass, it tears me apart. If I surrender, the war ends. The catch is that the only way I can surrender is by giving my life to it. If it were only a matter of discontinuing this life, I’d do it in a heartbeat. I have family to think of. I have Kitty and Maddy to think of. Even though I’m not sure they all care for me as I do for them, I care enough to hope they do.

I’m just so numb to everything around me. It’s hard to function when you don’t see why you’re doing anything in the first place. Once I got back to my room after school, I laid down on my bed and didn’t move a muscle for 2 and a half hours. I couldn’t even if I had wanted to. I was paralyzed. I was frozen in place by all my fears, anger, anxiety, loneliness, hopelessness, and sadness. I just watched the sun’s light fall down my wall as nighttime crawled closer. I played music, but I didn’t hear a single song. My mind was too far gone. I gave in to my mind and allowed my body to be submerged in my thoughts. For each minute that passed, the weight upon my chest and throat became greater. I stopped breathing at one point. I held my breath for as long as my body could stand to feel something other than the pain in my heart. I learned just how much of me I despise. I explored every corner of myself, leaving no stone unturned, and I couldn’t find one thing that I liked.

I was only released from my paralysis by Maddy calling my name telling me it was time for dinner.

I want freedom from this mind that I’m imprisoned in every day. I want an out. I want to be able to fall asleep at night. I want to be able to wake in the morning and have the strength to pull myself out of bed without wanting to burst into tears. I want the scars and cuts to disappear from my hips, legs, and thighs. I want to have at least one more day where I can feel confident about who I am. I want to not feel like I’m going crazy because I can’t hear my own thoughts over the violent voices that wreak havoc on my head. I want to not be so afraid of being alone. I want to not be so afraid of being around others. I want to feel like I have some sort of control over this life. I want to see a beautiful girl smiling back at me in the mirror; not this fat hypocrite that I see now. I want to walk through a crowd of my peers and not feel like the only thing they see, if anything at all, is flaws. I want to be able to breathe again. I want to be able to see the colors in the world around me. I don’t want this.

Hating myself is tiring. Fighting myself is tiring. Waking myself is tiring. Breathing. Smiling. Speaking. Listening. Moving. Living is tiring. I am just tired. All the time. My body is so fatigued all the time. I get crippling headaches. I’m decaying. I’m disgusting.



Accepting the Lack of Satisfaction of Talking to a Wall

I was going to reach out today. I was going to tell Kitty how truly lost I am. We hadn’t spoken in a while, but I called out to her. She told me a lot had been going on and asked me how I was. I told her I wasn’t doing too well and asked her what had happened. She went on to tell me of her horrible issues with Rashun. She didn’t even hear me. I can’t tell her to focus on me for a second because she has her own battles. My problems seem so microscopic compared to hers.

There never seems to be a right time to speak up.

Wrong time. Wrong place.