Venting Into The Void

Speaking into the void and letting the sadness drain out. A written moment of bad mental health days, written under the stars.

[minasdigitaljournal]

Maybe I've held onto my sadness for so long because that is the only thing which is mine. The only thing that stays.

[sadnessinthestars]

I don’t know who I would be without it at this point.

[sadnessinthestars]

TW: VENT TALKING ABOUT SUICIDAL IDEATION AND BEING ACTIVELY DEPRESSED.

Being Chronically Depressed, suicidal and mentally unstable is such an incredibly exhausting hell. I have spent the past couple of weeks celebrating my birthday, getting a new job and preparing for my Best friend’s birthday. But in every single moment of my day, something in the back of my head whispers that no one cares about me, that it would be better if I died, that I shouldn’t look both directions when crossing a street, I shouldn’t buckle my seatbelt in any car I ever sit in, that I should raid my grandmothers and mother cabinets of medicine and swallow them all.

I have clear and unfiltered moments where I pull out every single pill known to my name and count them while googling if any of them can kill me. I do this while actively sending TikTok’s to my best friend and promising to grow old with them. I laugh with my mom, see musicals and make plans for the future while I wonder how I can feed my animals for a bit until someone finds my body when I finally succeed. I go to work and chat about Christmas parties coming up way too fast while I’m actively looking to see if I have people to take my pets when I die.

Almost every conversation of my life is a fake version of myself because who I am is not well. I am ALWAYS sad. I am ALWAYS wanting to kill myself, I don’t want to exist anymore. I’m tired of it and I can’t even explain why I stay most days. I can’t explain why I didn’t swallow every pill in my home or grab a knife and open my veins to the world.

I have people who say they love me, I have pets who I care for and would never want to part from and I have a job that I’m doing well in but none of that matters to me most days. Most days it’s just me going, maybe I’ll won’t wake up tomorrow and this will all end finally.

[whendidmythoughtsgocrazy]

And if I'm meant to be alone, please take away my desire to be loved.

k.b. // unknown

[sadnessinthestars]

Sometimes all I can think about in the bad moments are how much I want someone to love and to love me back.

[applepieandcupcakess]

need my music so loud it drowns out the urge to kms

[sadnessinthestars]

It needs to be constant and never ending. A thought should never be able to break through.

[sadnessinthestars]

My bones hurt so much. I’m so tired of the pain.

[soul-inyour-bonesx]

I need to learn I’m not made for love

[sadnessinthestars]

But it’s all I’ll ever want.

[sadnessinthestars]

Sometimes, the only breath of fresh air I get all day is looking up at the moon. Watching the stars and letting everything go, just for a moment. It’s almost as if the moon is calling me home, asking me to finally give up on the earth and return to the only place I’ve ever felt at peace.

There are days when the more I move, the more alien I feel in my own body. I feel like a creature in a skin suit, struggling to walk correctly or even breathe without being found out it’s all been wrong this whole time. An almost fully formed person with pieces missing. As if someone hit the wrong button or I was signed up for a job long ago and never given the instruction book as if I’ve been winging it ever since.

I hope, so often, to become one with the stars. To sit with the moon in the dark of the night and for it to call upon me. For a brief moment, for us to talk. I often feel it would be less lonely, less tiring and maybe it would save me from everything. It would give me a moment to finally feel alive. That it could save me. It could take the pills from my mouth, the blade from my wrist, and the pain from my bones. It could heal my heart, my brain, and my body. My illnesses would leave me, and I could finally float in the open. Become one with the sky, and the stars would welcome me home.

[visilepoem15192x]

[sadnessinthestars]

It’s never going to be enough.

[sadnessinthestars]

I hate the need want to be seen and noticed. I hate that it’s attention seeking and offensive to so many and yet, it’s exactly what I crave most of the time. I know people say they notice me, that they see me, that they want to help, I can’t help but know better and shy away. It feels fake, or at least it seems like it’s fake. Like someone is suddenly putting on a facade, waiting for someone to call "cut" so they can finally look away from me again. As if only to remind me I’m not worth a moment of their attention when the curtain falls.

But I want to be noticed without the need to say “I need help”. I want someone to notice when I take a step back, to see when my voice disappears from any and all conversations, to recognize when I start repeating the same stories over and over as if I’m hoping praying someone will finally pay attention enough to even mention it to me.

I want to be the friend you text first. Not the person who always has to reach out and say “Hi” while knowing I’m most likely bothering you, that you’d rather I left you alone because if you needed me you would’ve asked

[youaremyiris]

sometimes i wonder if i'll ever enjoy being alive

[fawnloser]

i’m sick of being alive

[echoesofsaturn]

as my final act of love, I will swallow every "please stay" and turn it into silence so you don't feel trapped by my ache

[sadnessinthestars]

Sometimes, I feel like no matter what I do, it won’t be enough. Like I’m standing in a sinking boat, frantically tossing out buckets of water, only to realize it’s a losing battle. No matter how much I scream or beg for help, the boats around me just watch, unmoved and unwilling to lend a hand to someone so far gone. Maybe I haven’t sunk yet, maybe I never will. And maybe, just maybe, it’s nothing. But it feels like everything.

Most of the time, I know it would be easier to just stop. To drop the bucket and let the water rise. To let them see my body sink, watch as it fills with water and steals the air from my lungs. When I will finally know, peace. It won’t be a tragedy. Just a statistic. A number. Not a person. Just a bit of unnecessary logic given to prove that boats truly can sink.