DecayingDays

Tumblr is my journal

[my-vanishing-hope]

[my-vanishing-hope]

I want to fall asleep and never fucking wake up

[my-vanishing-hope]

I remember when I was 16. I stopped going to school and started just laying in bed. The only time I would get up was when I needed the bathroom or wanted to eat.

This one time, in a one sided argument, my mom said that she would love to be me, laying in bed all day, being lazy and doing nothing.

I don’t think she understood how fucking depressing it was to live life in a state of isolation and feel like you can’t escape it.

Laying in bed for days isn’t relaxing.

Doing nothing with your life isn’t peaceful

Being in a state of low-functioning depression doesn’t mean you are lazy.

Sometimes I woke up and forced myself back to sleep because I had no reason to be awake.

When I rolled to the empty side of the bed, my bones would crack, and my muscles would stiffen.

I couldn’t get comfortable at all.

I was dirty from going days without showering

I had to cut my long hair because it was so matted that I couldn’t even run a toothpick through it.

I was exhausted even tho I did absolutely nothing for the past couple months.

See, the fact that I was doing nothing made me feel even more hopeless about my future. The fact that I was doing nothing made me feel guilty and shameful.

I woke up everyday with a desire to die, because I knew I wasn’t going to make it anywhere in life.

The only distraction I had was my iPod.

Even switching through the same 3 fucking apps wasn’t fun anymore,

There was no joy, no happiness. No reason to live… and I think the thing that hurt the most was simply existing.

I don’t think my mom would have loved to be me…

Little did she know that the life she lived, was the one I craved, but also, the one I felt like I would never be able to achieve.

I often think back to those bleak times and wonder how I even made it through the day…but somehow I did…because now I’m in the student council for the high school that I will be graduating from this year…

I never believed in the light at the end of the tunnel until finally saw it for myself.

It just took some work :)

[my-vanishing-hope]

Today I am a year and 4 months clean from meth and I graduated high school 3 weeks ago with a $1,000 scholarship at 19 years old. I was accepted into my cities university and will be studying psychology in the fall. I’m getting my own place soon and I’m painting again...I woke up this morning and I showered...

It’s not the end...I promise you ♥️ Please stay alive

[my-vanishing-hope]

I carry an overwhelming amount of trauma and sometimes I forget that the things I experienced are actually sad and fucked up to some people because I’m super numb to most of these memories, so sometimes when I joke about things, or share stories, I’m left with frowns, or flat out silence. Kinda makes me feel stupid lol

[my-vanishing-hope]

How are you just supposed to forget about someone when they have given you so much to remember?

[my-vanishing-hope]

Physically, I am here but my mind is wondering somewhere else. So no, I’m not really here.

[my-vanishing-hope]

I kept trying to convince myself that i was just having a few bad days until one heavy night, I began to question if this life was even worth living anymore.

[my-vanishing-hope]

It’s depressing...waking up to almost nothing. To the same four, stained walls, and the same strong desire to die...it’s unbearable.

[my-vanishing-hope]

Most days, I wonder if I should just end it, so I could move onto the next life, and hope that it’s better one.

[my-vanishing-hope]

I woke up this morning and realized how fucking lonely I really am.

[my-vanishing-hope]

🌼||-//🌼

[my-vanishing-hope]

Fiend: how come you never look both ways when crossing the street?

Me: I don’t know, sometimes I just wanna die..

Friend:....

Me: haha just kidding...

[my-vanishing-hope]

I remember when I was 16. I stopped going to school and started just laying in bed. The only time I would get up was when I needed the bathroom or wanted to eat.

This one time, in a one sided argument, my mom said that she would love to be me, laying in bed all day, being lazy and doing nothing.

I don’t think she understood how fucking depressing it was to live life in a state of isolation and feel like you can’t escape it.

Laying in bed for days isn’t relaxing.

Doing nothing with your life isn’t peaceful

Being in a state of low-functioning depression doesn’t mean you are lazy.

Sometimes I woke up and forced myself back to sleep because I had no reason to be awake.

When I rolled to the empty side of the bed, my bones would crack, and my muscles would stiffen.

I couldn’t get comfortable at all.

I was dirty from going days without showering

I had to cut my long hair because it was so matted that I couldn’t even run a toothpick through it.

I was exhausted even tho I did absolutely nothing for the past couple months.

See, the fact that I was doing nothing made me feel even more hopeless about my future. The fact that I was doing nothing made me feel guilty and shameful.

I woke up everyday with a desire to die, because I knew I wasn’t going to make it anywhere in life.

The only distraction I had was my iPod.

Even switching through the same 3 fucking apps wasn’t fun anymore,

There was no joy, no happiness. No reason to live... and I think the thing that hurt the most was simply existing.

I don’t think my mom would have loved to be me...

Little did she know that the life she lived, was the one I craved, but also, the one I felt like I would never be able to achieve.

I often think back to those bleak times and wonder how I even made it through the day...but somehow I did...because now I’m in the student council for the high school that I will be graduating from this year...

I never believed in the light at the end of the tunnel until finally saw it for myself.

It just took some work :)

[my-vanishing-hope]

It’s like I have to constantly try to remind myself that I’ll be okay....but I wish it didn’t have to be like this...I wish I can just be okay.

[the-unlucky-thirteen]

Angry parents/caretakers of children with mental illnesses are the most backwards kind of persons. They try to yell the depression out of you, push you towards stress to deal with anxiety, discipline the self hatred away, but all they do is suppress the visible symptoms with their aggression. The child becomes too scared to show it. So instead, the mental illness becomes quiet, you learn to hide it, or you might not even have control over showing symptoms at all. They don’t see it any longer, and they think it’s ‘solved’, but all it did was shatter you even more and isolate you in a world where you’re too afraid to reach out

[my-vanishing-hope]

honestly...props too all the single indigenous mothers and fathers out there, trying to create a healthy life for their kids, despite their own pain and traumas growing up.

Props to the former addicts who manage to stay off drugs and alcohol, for the life's they brought into this world.  

props to the parents who grew up in a living hell, and are now raising their children in a safe haven.

props to the parents who had sleepless nights, heavy minds, and stressful lives but still made it to the day of their graduation.

props to the parents who grew up in the cfs system, and worked towards their own independence without a healthy family by their side.

props to the parents who were born into a family that lost their own culture due to colonization, but are now raising their kids around ceremonies, the medicines and the language.

props to the parent's that grew up with nothing and were told that they could not provide the basic necessities of life but ended up working their asses off to give their kids everything they need.

props to the parents who are ending the cycle of intergenerational trauma, the cycle of violence and the cycle of pain.

My heart aches for the children who were raised by parents who walked down a dark path... ....so props to those children for growing up and walking with their own kids down the red road.

[my-vanishing-hope]

I wish i can be a different person