Unspoken Spoke

Bloggin what’s in my Noggin’

[unspokenspoke]

Body Say

Pounds of pounds of pounds of what? The shame I have with the shell that I have. No love for me, myself and I. Do not be mistaken I am not overweight, nor am I of bones and flesh. No friend, I am normal, active and in shape. But oh do I hate myself for not being within standards. I am not one of those with wings as they walk down the aisle of flashes and applause. Standards. My darling man has nothing but love for me; praises my body like it were of a goddess, and what do I tell him? “I am fat. Imperfect. I need to lose more.” The food that I eat from day to day struggles to go right back out when I find out I have eaten more than what I should normally. I am pretty, I am alright, I am fit, but as long as my stomach isn’t as flat as paper, these are all lies to me.

[unspokenspoke]

Voices

September 26, 2016

I have been depressed for quite some time. Slapping on a different face, and failing to keep them on. School has started over a month now, and the voices are back. They are back, and I’m letting them win. I am drained. I am blank. I am somewhere but not here. Physically, yes. Mentally, lost. I have let them conquer me slowly; just enough to the point where I am a string away from snapping. Just enough to where an invisible metal barrel is up against my temple when I’m upset. Just enough to where adrenaline is alive when I hold a knife, blade or something relatively sharp.

I refuse to ask for help. No one really understands from my point of view. I’m sure people in the same situation as I am wouldn’t even come too close to understanding. I’ve fought my own battles alone. Seldom do I ask for help. No one needs to save me. I am a stubborn soul who insists on saving herself. Who insists of being her own hero. Who insists that she is alright, strong and brave. 

Everyday is the same. I wake up, go to school for practice, go to my classes, go practice, go home, homework, sleep. Repeat. Each day I survive. Each day I grow closer and closer to the edge. Each day I grow closer and closer to Thanatos. Each day the phrase, “Kill myself” sounds more like a part of my to do list than a joke. Each day, they come and whisper to me. Whisper..whisper..until they fill my head with screams of demands and mean thoughts. I am not loved. I am not wanted. I am needed. I am not to exist. 

I have been struggling to get out of this hole, but I seem to be stuck. I have not yet fully given up. But I have little hope of getting out. My perseverance goes weary the longer I stay in a household full of injustice, neglect and hatred. The only person I have waiting for me outside the hole is the man who wishes to spend the rest of his life with me. If he gives up--