3/28/2013

Darkness

To many

it is shade

a color with no meaning

a shadow

to me it is a life

living in darkness

with a flashlight in my left hand

and my pen in my right

I write to you this poem

this opinion

this story

A life with darkness

is one without fulfillment

one with worries

and constant work

living a life with do much hope

for brighter days

It is a life with light

to wake up in the morning

and see the beautiful sun

shining in your room window

for a second

you want to smile

only to realize

just as the sun goes down

so does my sight

so does my ability to see

without this flashlight

I do not like the dark anymore

From now on anytime I am cold

and in the dark

I will think of these moments

Though a blessing

I get to spend more time with my family

Thats all that really mattered anyways

8/26/19 1:55am

The words just spill out of me. I’ve been holding them all in. Feeling all these feelings then nothing at all. I’m sending pictures of quotes that express exactly how I’m feeling, how I’m thinking. Though Gina has made it clear she has never dealt with these type of mental illnesses, she appreciates when I let her in. So I do.

... me: ... phrases like ‘keep going, it’ll get better, tomorrow is another day’ annoy me. I roll my eyes every time I hear or read them. Or keep going, it’s worth it. Or fight another day. Why. Tomorrow will be better? Tomorrow I’ll smile? Tomorrow I’ll fall in love with myself and be able to actually look into a mirror without crying or wishing I’d drop dead. Tomorrow I won’t be lonely? Maybe tomorrow I’ll magically have some privacy and a bed and be able to sleep. Maybe Tomorrow I won’t have major depression and anxiety or suicidal ideations. I’ve suffered enough tomorrow’s. Don’t tell me fight another day or there’s always tomorrow or some other bullshit like that cause that’s exactly what it is. Bullshit.

Gina: I think it’s time for you to start doing something about your worries, to finally buckle down and not let your depression get the best of you. You say it doesn’t get better but you haven’t even tried, you say you need help but you never ask for it. I don’t know what depression is or how it actually feels so my arguments aren’t valid.

Me: saying I haven’t tried, hurts.

Gina: well you wanted the honest truth so I’m giving it to you.

Me: the truth? You think that me not trying is the truth? That assumption is very inaccurate and extremely hurtful. You’re not here G. How could you say that. You wasn’t there or didn’t know the months i spent searching for therapist. You don’t know about all the depression helplines I’ve contacted. Or how I spent every day for weeks on the suicide hotline. How somedays I can’t even get up. I can’t shower, wash my face, brush my teeth, don’t even change my clothes. I just lay down, stare at a wall, curl into blankets all day and only get up to use the bathroom. Those are the days I’m fighting the hardest. The days I’m trying to continue to live the hardest. From the moment I wake up and even in my dumbass nightmares, I spend every second of every day fighting and trying not to kill myself. I spend so much of my day thinking about how I could finally end all this pain. I plan how I can get the hotel, write new letters and still bring the ones I wrote when I had planned on ending it last year. I plan on how I would text you the password to my phone and how peaceful it will be to finally swallow those pills and get the sleep I’ve been needing. Every day I’m fighting to stay alive. I’m trying to do what it takes to get better, be better. So for you to say I’m not trying is ridiculous when you have no idea what I’m doing, what’s going on in my mind or what I’m going through.

I finish the text with a slow single tear and a long sigh. I turn my phone off and toss it aside. I take off my socks and lay down on the bed. I wrap the blankets around me and let the thoughts consume every ounce of my being. I don’t fight it. I deserve it. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault I’m so fucked up. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I’m just not trying hard enough. If I tried hard enough maybe I’d be better by now. But how can she say that. I’m so stupid for opening up and expressing myself. I knew better. I know better than that. That’s what I get.

I wake up to my brother calling my name.

Me: hm?

Brother: Gina’s on the phone for you.

Me: *silence

Brother: Gina says to answer your phone

Me: I’m sleep and so is my phone.

My brothers voice fades as he closed the door and repeats to G “she said she’s sleep and so is her phone. I’ll have her call you when she wakes up though”.

Please, please don’t let me wake up.

When I do I don’t check my phone right away. I use the bathroom, and then come back to lay down. I hug my pillow and daydream about someone being there for me. About me being someone’s priority. I’ll call or text them saying “I need you”. They’ll drop everything to come be with me. They’ll hold me in there arms and just listen. They won’t give advice or tell me it’s my fault or what I should be doing or that I’m not trying. They’ll just listen and tell me that they are there for me. I wish someone cared. I feel around till I reach my phone and turn it on. After a couple seconds and a short password later, I see Gina text 23 times and called twice. Funny how they only care when I’m not there.

1/10/25 4:30pm

I’m not ok

Thanks for asking

I could say

I’m good

But that would be for your benefit

It’s evident

That my time ain’t been spent

On me

Previously diagnosed with

Major anxiety

And depression

My joy has lessened

And it scares me

That I’m not vibrating

At my normal frequency

I feel alone most times

Like I’m on a battlefield

Covered in land Mines

fueled by negative thoughts

Exploding with every misstep

But it’s dark for me

These grey clouds make it hard to see

So with every explosion

I don’t have the time to bandage my wounds

I gotta keep running

Keep going

Keep fighting

Cause them blows been consistent

A natural born worrier

All my life I had to fight

But dang…

Don’t nobody else wanna get tagged in?

Depression keep calling

Sending texts like

“Hey old friend”

It’s wild

How alluring the darkness can be

Maybe it’s because I know it so well

That it’s starting to feel like comfort to me

I’m not ok

Thanks for asking

But I know and have faith

That I will be

6/2/2013 9:05pm

Thoughts

I can never get a break. I always feel like it’s my fault. from the arguments, to a house without lights, to no food to eat and not sleeping at night. I can never do anything right. My mind is clustered. As tears retreat to make room, to make space for more hurt and pain to take there place. Trying to put words to paper to write how I feel. Becoming. overwhelmed by what my needs release of. Not really/truly knowing how much you have been holding back until you try and take a piece out. Why am I this way? Why do I do the things I do and say the things I say? I’m unhappy. I am unhappy with the decisions I have and have not chose, that got me to where I am today. I am unhappy with the situation that happened in our house (note “house” not “home” which we’ve never had). And it all comes down to being unhappy with myself. I blame myself for everything. Even if it had nothing to do with me. Im insecure and strongly dislike eery part of me and my body. I push people away and keep a brick wall up to hide everything. Long story short, I’m messed up. Period. I just want to hurry up and get my thoughts together and my life so I can move on and finally be happy. Because putting myself in the shoes of these girls from these romance novels I’ve been reading ain’t quite cutting it.

1/30/2014

Fear

I used to have a journal. A diary. A few of them. I used to write my thoughts, my opinions, my fears and more in those journals. After some time passed I may re-read the things I wrote. It’s sad. I have always written about the same things; Wanting happiness, why I am the way I am, why does my family have to struggle, what did I do wrong. I’ts the same stuff. I have'n’t gotten anywhere. I haven’t found happiness. My family is still struggling. No, we’re not homeless anymore but we are without a home. We have a house. A house that now has new memories of pain, hurt, unhappiness. I don’t know what I’m doing. I scared to do anything else. Everything that has happened to me. Everything and anything that I have ever seen, felt, been through, has engraved so much fear into me. I am afraid. I am fearful of so many things.