Positive Thoughts

18. Inactive. Sad as Fuck.

[darkesthaunting]

I'm sorry you have everything set and ready, I wish you didn't but I understand the feelings you go through to get this far. All I can say is that if you weren't here there would be at least one person who would miss you <3

That’s not true at all. If it is, come off anon. I won’t publish who you are.

[darkesthaunting]

whats wrong specifically? :/

My life is a complete shit hole. Nobody even talks to me anymore. I’m disabled in a house I can’t use a wheelchair in so I get around by literally dragging myself across the floor through cat piss. I can’t get into the bathroom, I can’t go outside. I have no money, no education, no friends and everything is fucking pointless. My self-harm went from relapsing to full-on addiction again and I just don’t see a point in going on. I’ve spent nearly two years trying to get help and I get told to fuck off basically. Done trying. Existing in four walls that want to drown me isn’t a form of life, it’s a form of suffering. My mental illnesses are getting worse and the schizophrenia is come back and even worse this time. I don’t want to live in such a hallucinogenic hell hole. 

[darkesthaunting]

Low key want to kill myself right now :) 

[darkesthaunting]

Suicidal (yes again).

I feel like i’m saying this way too much and at this point, i highly doubt any of you give a shit so i guess i’ll just ramble away. 

I don’t really want to kill myself, I just want to die. And not even that I want to die, i just don’t to live if this is how life is without her. She fucked me up, manipulated me, cheated on me, abused me. 

I never expected that from the woman who once saved my life. Who cared about me, who nursed me during the depths of schizophrenia; when my whole world was a literal hallucinogenic hellhole designed to kill me, she saved me. 

Now i’m alone and I don’t know how to live alone. I just don’t. I hate how it was all some manipulative fucked up lie and I let it happen because I was too scared to be alone.  

She’ll never read this so I guess I can just ramble as if she will.

I found the ring the other day, you know? The one you gave to me. The one I wore every day. That I had a mental break down over when i couldn’t find it. I want to get rid of it but I can’t, because i’m a crippled freak with no hope.

I want to throw it in the river near the house we stayed in. The one we wanted to live in together. The one I was secretly saving up and discussing to buy for us. You know the one, near the river. I want to throw it in there. I want to watch the currents tear it away from the surface and see it, you, suffocate like I did. 

I still have the book too, the one you gave me. The one you gave me after i hand wrote you a novel of us. It has everything we should’ve done but never did. Or as I now know it, the list of things I will never allow myself to do. I cant eat my favorite fucking food anymore, because it’s in that book. I hope you’re happy, wherever you are. Whatever you’re doing, whoever you get with after cheating on me. I hope it was all worth it.

I wish someone would come along and save me again, like you saved me all that time ago. I wish someone would want to talk to me, to know me, to give a shit but nobody does. Not anymore. Not to a depressed, schizophrenic, disabled freak like me. 

This is all of my life now. An unloved, mentally fucked up loser with no future and the distinct possibility of being put into a mental care institute for the foreseeable future. 

I just want to feel happy without you. I want to walk again, to feel the sun and not want to hide from it. I want someone to care about me like I cared about you.

I want to die, but i’m too disabled to make it happen. You’ll never know what that’s like. To want something so badly and not be able to do it. To be so fucked up that you can take the last thing you have left away. 

[darkesthaunting]

Current state: Fucked up and in suicidal therapy once a week.

[darkesthaunting]

Suicide - How and When?

I’ve decided I’m ready to go, I finally feel like I’m able to kill myself. Normally I want to and wish I would but I wouldn’t. I know I wouldn’t, but now I will. 

It hit me tonight that I’m ready. I’m done with all the bullshit. The only reason i stopped crying is because I’m ready. I can just do it and I’m not afraid anymore, and that brings me comfort. 

The only real decision is when to do it? How to do it? I want to try and make it as quick as possible. A split-second snapshot of my life. I would like to thank everyone who messaged me about this previously and those who attempted to talk to me about it. I appreciate what you did, and I appreciate you; sorry to let you all down like this but just know I’ll be much happier this way. 

My therapist gave up last week. Said I just couldn’t be helped. I’m alone, unloved, unwanted and honestly, lacking purpose to my life. I’m tired of being plagued by all of the illnesses in my head and the sounds, voices and hallucinations that haunt my every moment. I am happy that those will die with me. 

I’m done rambling now, I just want to wish everyone a happy life. Stay strong as long as you can and thank you for everything you have all done for me. Take care. 

[darkesthaunting]

I’m just the person everyone wants to know, until they actually know me; because there’s a whole world up in my head and they want to explore every inch of it until they realize, it’ll never be about them

[darkesthaunting]

More suicidal rambling I guess.

TL;DR: Planning to kill myself.

I just need to talk to someone. Someone please inbox me or messenger thing me. I’m begging you please. Talk to me. Help me remember what it means to be human because right now I feel dead.

Just need to get some thoughts out. Trying to be proactive and not hurt myself so trying alternatives. 

I’ve been thinking about killing myself lately, in a more intense way than I used to. It’s less passive now, and more active like, give me a gun to blow those demons in my head to oblivion. The pills are out of my reach after that last incident. I can’t reach them from the cold floor that has become my home.

It’s another lonely night without you. I really wish i could hate you but I can’t. I love you and I hate that. That other guy has a name too. I hate that. I don’t know why I can’t just move on. You abused me emotionally, physically and sexually. You made me feel so shit. You took away everything from me and worse than that, you took a future away from me.

So many other people have told me how they feel. That they want to love me but I can’t. Because there is a whole world up in my head, and they will want to explore every inch of it, until they discover that none of it will ever be about them. I’m in therapy now, for the third time. 

My therapist gave up last week. He said that I just can’t be helped. He has never seen trauma so bad. He doesn’t know what to do; and neither do I. I keep waking up in cold sweat, haunted by the flash backs of what you did to me. And then you had the fucking audacity to just walk away from it. 

If this is all I’m living for, I really don’t know why I’m doing it anymore. I have nothing, i’m left with nothing. I can’t walk, and my wheelchair doesn’t fit through the doors, so I can’t use it and I can’t get it outside or inside alone. I’ve no money, no friends, no education, nothing. I am just drowning in debt, misery and loneliness. 

The panic attacks are back, but they’re so much worse. The overwhelming sense of fear is horrifying. Those black outs are back too. That “other place” I always talked about. Where the bad stuff lives. I wind up there a lot, I don’t know how to stop it. I don’t feel safe there, eventually they might kill me and I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing anymore. 

I just wish I had a reason to want to live but I don’t. There’s nothing that would stop me from going. Sure I have what’s left of my family but I can’t endure this just for that. Maybe i’m selfish, you always said I was. Like the time I couldn’t get the bus to go see you, when I couldn’t walk and it was the last of my money, I guess I should’ve slid over the street and tried to climb into the bus on these useless arms and legs. 

I’m so frustrated with my body, to the point I tried to amputate my own leg with a butter knife. The only thing I could get. Or the time I tried to cut off my own face with a nail. Why don’t you care about that? I tried to kill myself, why don’t you mind? What have you become?

My skin is beaten black and blue from where I have tried to get any trace of you out of it. My eyes are scarred from what they saw you do to me. My ears are bleeding from all the lies you fed me. So tired of it all, desperate to feel something, i let someone else abuse me. She hurt me, intentionally. And I let her. It reminded me of you, I still let her do that stuff to me. I don’t beg for help, i just let it happen. Why doesn’t that bother you? 

Any spare cash I come to, I drink. I don’t get drunk, but I try to. You know better than anyone that’s not me; because you’re the one who first forced it down my throat. That burning alcohol, recorded you doing it to me to show your friends. That’s all I ever was, wasn’t it? A sick joke. I feel like the biggest clown in the smallest circus, totally worthless. 

This isn’t living, this isn’t even existing. This is just terror. That overwhelming, unending terror that haunts me. Afraid to die but even more afraid to live. I’m stuck in between but right now, I want to find a way to end my life. It is my life, this is my decision to make. I just wish I knew how. I can’t get the pills anymore. The knives aren’t sharp. Maybe that broken bit of radiator, it would be so slow though. I want a fast resolution, like a bullet to my brain; a fast way out of this hell you put me in.

Those scars you gave me are still there. From the first time you broke my innocence, like I was that little kid again, being abused over and over. A life I thought I escaped. You struck me because I refused to have sex. Kicked me off the bed. Made me fall asleep under a used and wet towel. If you ever read this, I just want you to know that I never got over it. You once asked me, “Did I break you?” I lied and said no. I lied. You broke every aspect of me. 

I just need to talk to someone. Someone please inbox me or messenger thing me. I’m begging you please. Talk to me. Help me remember what it means to be human because right now I feel dead. 

[darkesthaunting]

Just going to ramble.

I have no idea what this even is but I gotta say something. 

I just really want to kill myself right now. I have access to a shit load of pills and knives, everyone is asleep, I could be done with all of this before anyone knows what happened. I’m normally suicidal, but it’s passive. Less suicidal and more “I wouldn’t stop death if it came”. Like if a car was going to hit me, I wouldn’t try to move. But tonight I want to kill myself, actively. By my own hand. 

Everyone just keeps saying to take it one day at a time, or that if I keep going it’ll be okay. But that’s bullshit. It has never been okay and I have no reason to believe it will magically fix itself if I just suffer a little longer, and a bit longer.. And a bit longer after that. It’s too daunting. I am not afraid of dying, I am afraid of living, I am fucking lonely. 

I’m an unlovable sack of shit. In this past year I have had everything taken away from me. My friends, the person I love, my ability to walk, my ability to go outside, my money, my education, even my fucking voice. I forget how it even sounds. Not because I can’t but because I well.. .”can’t”. I just don’t know what to do now. 

If this was a book, something or someone would save me, or I’d magically fix things, or I’d end up dead. Lately, I’d much rather the latter option; because I’m so done with this. I’m slowly dying anyway, medical issues just keep creeping up one by one and I’m powerless to stop it. 

All I have ever known is physical, verbal and sexual abuse. I have been bullied, blackmailed and abused to the point that I just don’t feel comfortable with the sight of my own skin. I keep out of sight from mirrors, last time I saw myself I tried to claw my own face off, but only succeeded in ripping layers of skin and winding up with an even worse looking set of peeled up skin. 

There’s no future in this. There’s no hope in this. There’s just nothing in this. Nobody loves me because there’s a whole world in my head that they will want to explore, until they realize none of it will ever be about them. I don’t even know what I’m saying, I’m just pretending to talk to someone I guess. 

How bad does the news have to be before you get to shoot the messenger? How bad do things have to be before it’s okay to go? That’s all i really want. Someone to just sit there, and tell me that if I need to, it’s okay to go. That they wish I’d stay but if  I need to, I can go. 

I need to see her face again. I need to tell her I’m sorry, a hundred thousand times over. I’m sorry I wasn’t there the night you killed yourself. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you when you needed me most. I’m sorry you’ll never have a life and that it’s all my fucking fault. 

[darkesthaunting]

Hey I don't even know you and I know that you're fucking fantastic. You know why? Because a shitload of people love you and complete strangers are rooting you on, myself included. Never give up on you. Even if you do, I hella won't. Stay badass and love yourself and know you can take on anything given the wisdom and creativity. Love you. Be safe.

Nobody loves me. That is quite evident. The only person whoever did is dead. AS for the others, I doubt they ever loved me at all. I’m the kind of person that everyone wants to know, until they actually know me. Then I get fucked over. I’m sick of this shit. 

[darkesthaunting]

Anyone to talk to?

Tried everyone I know and they’re all asleep and aren’t waking up but I really want to kill myself right now. So many urges to just do it. I have enough pills and knives, someone please help me. Fuck. 

[poeticpuzzle-blog]

Those People -PoeticPuzzle

To the people who say that it’s all in my head. To the people who say to go out and meet people, to the people who say to just think positive, to the people who say stop being pathetic, negative, don’t talk about death as if it’s a wonderful womb of an exit, to the people who tell me to just turn to God and to the people who say why didn’t therapy help: I swear I try to talk to people so I don’t go spiralling back down.. But you don’t want to see my wounds and I know that you see my wounds because the stench gives it away anyway. 

Your pain, or any pain, is only worth enduring for the words you can use to describe it. You say: Tell me about the knife, but make it pretty. Tell me of your pain but make it witty, tell me of your story but make it gritty - as if the fact of ‘nothing’ being the word I use to describe my pain is too insane for you to comprehend.

Everyone wants me to spill, poetically – in a way that’ll go down easy, but you all want to talk about maps by speaking of their borders and never by what’s inside of them. The boundaries are their tombstones, but what’s inside of them is all of them siphoning the life out of themselves with a needle, with their spines crumbling down like a crashing palace of cards with their hearts leaking from the knives relentless advances into their souls.

I can’t just sleep because I dream that every dead person I know lived the same, in the alleyway of my skull.  They tell me of their stories in hopes that I can forget my own and I know it would be easier to catch raindrops with a sieve but damnit I have to try because I have walked around with a fist full of consonants, hoping that the dead are like windows and that my poems are rocks so I can shatter their faces and bleed over their pieces again.

Sometimes I hold their last words to my eyes like a news headline I don’t quite want to believe, sometimes I curse the water for what it will not tell me but they do not want to be discovered so they chant words as a crowd until the words become music and the music is an orchestra of wasps - a horrifying symphony of cacophony. Sometimes I believe you’ll get back up. I can almost see your names slithering back into your bodies attempting to kick you back to life like a scrap yard engine, I envision you stuttering out of your own funerals and you’re laughing and then I think how absurd the idea is that my choirs of weeping could start seeping into the ground to wake you up because these caskets are being planted in the ground like a farmers seeds after winter – coldly and far too quickly.

I have learned a language of nothing of what once was and of what will never be again and that’s not me attempting to be vain, I simply do not know how else to describe a language that exists on pure feelings of pain – I guess you could say I now reign over a plain language that was built over the bodies of those who have been slain.

Sometimes I too want to be a poem, to become the beautiful metaphors to describe it and not have to be this ever existing pain in my chest waiting to find the right words to unearth it.

I now know how to pull a heart out of a chest without breaking it and to those people who ask me why that matters, tell me what do you know of pulling the history from a body without killing it?

Just yesterday I discovered I cannot sleep for a whole new set of reasons, just yesterday I wrote… and wrote. And I kept on writing because I am committed to not killing anyone else, especially myself. Just yesterday I found a new way to say that I miss you, to THOSE people, my god, how I miss you all.

[poeticpuzzle-blog]

Aren’t we all just stories waiting to be read by someone else, hoping they’ll tell us that we make sense, hence when the fence of death becomes far too intense I begin to wonder how long it’ll be until I no longer posses any form of defence because it’s cast away to the child hood aspirations of...

[darkesthaunting]

Need a Friend?

If you need someone to talk to anonymously and confidentially this site really helps! It’s an online therapy site that I volunteer with, check it out! 

http://www.7cupsoftea.com/1302783

You can also find me on there, if you would prefer to speak to me privately. It’s all anonymous and you don’t have to sign up if you don’t want too! 

[darkesthaunting]

In Need Of Help?

Hey everyone, sorry I have been inactive! If you’re in need of help I highly recommend 7 Cups of Tea! It’s an online therapy site to talk anonymously, check it out here! 

http://www.7cupsoftea.com/1302783 

[poeticpuzzle-blog]

It’s funny, how the same twenty six letters that filled my mother’s wedding vows are the same twenty six letters that filled my teenage suicide note when I simply forgot which letters spelled the word, ‘hope’.

It’s funny, how the same twenty six letters that helped me to cope are the same twenty...

[darkesthaunting]

(thanks to my girlfriend for the idea) <3 

[darkesthaunting]

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