im so tired

i hate myself and i hate how hard it is to be normal

[pile-of-regrets]

death is an odd topic. either it’s never talked about, it’s the butt of jokes, or it is the emphasis of someones rage.

no, you’re not a horrible person for saying that. but do you really mean it when you wish she were dead? or do you just want her to disappear? they are two vastly different scenarios.

death is the end to that person entirely. once they die, you don’t get to forgive them. all you can do is forgive yourself for imagining they were someone different.

you don’t get to forgive them, because they will never change.

you waited too long to offer them a second chance.

[pile-of-regrets]

growing pains

i think my skin is made of tissue paper.

taking too deep of a breath will cause my ribs to tear through and expose my decrepit lungs and heart to the world.

i’m so afraid of my body and mind.

what if i betray myself?

my heart used to know I am not alone, but the vile pollution of my mind has defiled my bloodstream and now all my heart can do is pump these vicious words of scorn through every one of my veins until I am paralyzed with disgust.

my therapist tells me i’m just getting older.

“growing pains,” she says.

[pile-of-regrets]

meeting new people has to be the most exhausting endeavor to exist.

my words are like a violin. it hurts to play, my fingers are getting bloody.

but beauty comes at a price.

they will never know who i am, but they will know my carbon copy melody.

if my words are lovely, their lack of meaning should be no problem.

a perfume with only one flowery layer, afterwards it is gone forever; vanished into the memory of those who had the chore of bearing witness to it.

[pile-of-regrets]

I want to write something that perfectly summarizes what I have wanted to say for years.  Maybe then I could lay the thoughts to rest, along with my body.

[pile-of-regrets]

the worst part about losing my father at such a young age is that i never knew him as an individual, only as a parent.

i mourn a man i never even knew.

[pile-of-regrets]

i’m so lucky to have friends.

and they’re so unlucky to have me.

[pile-of-regrets]

at this point, i seek out criticism. be mean to me, i deserve it.

or maybe you deserve to release your anger.

either way, i’m a willing target.

[pile-of-regrets]

sometimes i like to imagine that everyone isn’t disappointed in me, only to realize that apologizing for everything means that, one day, i’ll actually be the one to blame.

i’ve reaped what i’ve sown, i just never thought that the fruits of my labor would bloom so soon.

[pile-of-regrets]

I find it funny.

All of it, really.

How us humans are so touchingly fragile that even a whisper can tear us down.

How we crave being known, but confine ourselves to loneliness out of fear.

How our minds fight themselves for months, or even years, of chemical warfare.

I ask myself often, “Why aren’t I dead yet?”

Is it because I'm afraid?

Or maybe it’s survival instincts.

Either way, I find it funny.

How it all feels so fake.

- Alaina.

[pile-of-regrets]

something i wrote about the worst day of my life:

I remember the day quite well.

Tear tracks stained the faces of those you loved.

Sobs and sniffles flooded the halls of the hospice.

My scream did too.

I remember the last thing I had the courage to say to you.

“I love you.”

You responded with muffled words.

I still don’t know what you told me.

But it was you.

It was all you, deep down.

Beyond the liver and kidney failure.

Beyond the tubes and machines.

Beyond the gloves and gowns.

It was you.

Wasn’t it, Dad?

[pile-of-regrets]

so it seems i’ve finally decided to spill my guts to a website. how on earth do i trust the fucking internet more than i trust my own friends?