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I wanted a type of reassurance that i wasn't sure he could give me anymore. "I won't value you the same," he says. I don't believe him, or don't want to anyways. There will always be a part of me that believes I am supposed to be here, that i'm supposed to spend my life figuring out how to make this work. If i just give up then what was this all for anyways? What reason will i have to wake up every morning? The scariest thing to face is that everything i believe in is not meant to be.
It didn't feel good to depend this much on anyone anymore. There wasn't a logical reason why i did, but I just knew i needed too. I couldn't pick myself up on my own anymore and i slowly realized he was the only one that could save me. I don't think he feels the same anymore, how could he? How could he love someone that couldn't even love themselves anymore? I didn't expect him too, any maybe he was selfish. But if he could just hold on a little while longer, i promise that i could be better for him.
The problem was this. Everyone thinks that when it doesn't work out that giving up is the only solution, and that moving on is exactly what you should be doing. But what ever happened to pushing through it? What happened to trying so hard to make it work, and to be able to say at the end of the day that you made it because you never lost faith. I didn't care what other people said, and i didn't care if i was actually crazy. I wasn't going to let go of the only thing that made me truly happy.
I found myself staying up all night multiple times throughout the week. There was something about being wide awake when no one else could disturb you and all you had were your thoughts. I didn't dislike the presence of other people, but most of the time i guess i didn't necessarily enjoy it. I guess i just wanted to be alone. I wanted to pay attention, i mean really pay attention to my mind. To what was happening right now. I wanted to be able to see what really made me, me. Because i didn't quite know who that was.
It's funny how the mood you're in contributes to every aspect of your writing. It may not always make sense, and sometimes you may even be lost for words. But it's important to understand why you speak of the things you do in this very moment. What is driving you to these thoughts and emotions? Are you in pain? Are you happier than you've ever been? Or are you so lost that you cannot feel anything, and this is what you turn to in order to figure it all out? Whatever it is, it always makes sense in the end.
I've tried a thousand times to make sense out of it. To understand why God would put me through this hell. What did i do to deserve it? But that wasn't the point, and i didn't necessarily deserve to feel this at all. I was strong enough to get through it once, twice, and even a third time. God knew i could get through it all again, and again after that. He knew i was strong enough to handle any of this being thrown at me. So i would prove him right, and make it one day at a time.
She sat outside smoking the last of her cigarettes. Looking into the star filled sky she began to forget all of her worries, even if it was only for a few seconds. When they told her to let him go, it only made me easier for her to actually do it. Looking back on the horrible mistake that she knew would be near impossible to fix, she knew it had to be done. That if she just gave up she would never even get the chance to know what could have been, maybe what should have been. She must try.
It seemed like a sad excuse, but she was so afraid of death. Not just for herself, but for him. If he left this world without knowing every single day how she felt she would never be able to forgive herself. So even when she was told stop, and even when she was told to forget. As long as she felt what she did, she was always going to let you know. She was always going to be there fighting to get the one person back that she knew with everything she had in her was never supposed to go.
She met up with him after months of not speaking to each other. And with no surprise to her it all it was exactly how she knew it would be. It seemed as if nothing changed, like they could have went years without any contact and whenever she would see him, everything would be just like they left it. It wasn't much, and it was only a few hours of catching up, and laying next to each other in the same bed they slept together in for the first time. But it was enough to know that this was real.
She was always so good with her words, that when she gave the reasons for loving him it could have went on for hours. So when she finally asked for his answer, it was hard for him to explain. She wanted to cry, and scream, because she knew that maybe he couldn't even think of one. But finally she realized that maybe it didn't matter. Some people can't express their emotions, or maybe even put them into words. But if you can really feel it, there is no amount of words that can replace that. The feeling of just knowing.
There were nights where i couldn't shake the thought of you. Having someone stuck in your head that long, you just get used to it. The worst part was that morning you first open your eyes, the very few seconds where you realize where you are, and what your life really is. Then everything hits you all at once, with no warning, within seconds of waking all of your problems are rushing through your mind. You lay there wondering if waking will ever get any easier. But for the time being you know it won't, this was your life now.
Sometimes it was really difficult to write about anything happy. Maybe pain was more exciting, and maybe the sad thoughts would catch more attention than any happy ones. But if i could just think of something, anything at all that was positive, and worth writing about, I would. Maybe it was just me. And that was the scary thing. Maybe there wasn't a single thing in my life that i was truly happy about, and thats why all the sadness pours out onto the screen. And how do you fix it, how do you become happy again after all that?
What if the only thing that kept you going every single day was something you didn't have anymore? It was something nonexistent to your life but it was the only thing that brought a real smile to your face? Mine was you, and when i told you, you said no to be sorry. You just didn't understand why. I didn't understand either. But i knew it was just you, all of the things that made you who you were made me want to become better. You made me want to live my life in order to call you mine again.
When you become ashamed of who you are, and who you have become, it's not an easy thing to shake. You wonder why you do the things you do but still can't seem to stop. The only time you felt anything anymore was when you caused your own pain. It was always better to feel that, than nothing at all. But i deserved to be happy, right? I deserved to wake up every morning and change who i was, to become who i really wanted to be. I wouldn't give up, but every day got harder and harder for me.
It was the most awful feeling in the world. Waking on the couch at 6 A.M. to see you have decided not to show yet again. My eyes watered and my heart ached, how could I have been so stupid to believe you? I tried hard to get over it but fuck that. When I called crying I told you to wake up, i didn't care the time, and you would make the thirty minute drive over. And just like that I was fine, something about your presence made even the saddest times seem not so bad after all.
There were days when I absolutely hated you. Days where I couldn't even understand why i loved you anymore, but i did. And i had to come to the realization that was never going to change. Even if i wanted to it was never going to happen. There's something about meeting that one person that takes away your pain without even trying. But it's also the scariest thing in the world. Because if you ever lose this person you lose a little piece of yourself. I didnt enjoy depending on someone this much, but i didnt ever have a choice.
There really was no reason for me to skip class at all today, but i would anyways. The harsh reality of depression was that you couldn't pick and choose the good and bad days. You had to schedule your entire life around the disease. When your miserable, don't expect to be able to do anything that day. And on the great days, I had to catch back up on all of my work just to get it done. But today was one of those great days where i wanted to actually enjoy it. I wanted to do something for me.
I was told over and over again to not let the disease control my life, like i ever had a choice. They made it seem like i chose to be this way, like i enjoyed being pathetic and wanted their sympathy. But that wasn't the case at all and i would hide it better if i could. I hated being asked, "are you alright?" "You don't look so good." Well no shit, i'm closer to breaking every single day. So when you have the answer of how to "not let it control my life" i'll be waiting to hear it.
I was fully aware that this might make things even worse. Something inside of me just couldn't find the energy to care. There was something about the good days with you that made any of the horrific ones not matter. There were even days where i couldn't stop crying, not even to catch my breath for a quick second. I was running out of options, but don't think thats the reason i chose you. When someone can make you that happy after crying your eyes to sleep for months i think they are worth keeping around for a little while.
When the interviewer asked the simple question, "what brings you in today" my mind went completely blank. Suddenly I didn't have any answer. Why was I here? Honestly, why was I sitting in this office today? "To tell you the truth, i'm really not sure why i am here today. I know that i would like a job here, and that my life has been quite crazy lately. I also know that i am capable of working harder than anyone you have ever met. I don't have anyone to confirm that, but if you give me one week, you'll see."
Whenever I needed to think, i drove. Sometimes i drove around for hours in circles around city trying to remember every little detail of what was around me. I'd buy a carton of cigarettes and drive around inhaling until i felt sick. Maybe i wanted them to kill me, or maybe i just loved the fact that this tiny stick of tobacco could actually do it. I knew one day i might regret that but then maybe i wouldn't. Maybe i'm not supposed to live a day past twenty five, and just maybe i'm absolutely ok with all of that.
I walked into the bedroom wearing my winter coat that went all the way down past my knees. Underneath I had nothing on besides the two hundred dollar lingerie and knee high socks i had bought just yesterday. When you looked at me I wanted you to think, "damn, this girl is absolutely amazing." I wanted you to look at my body and think that no one else could ever be more beautiful than the girl staring back at you. Even though there was, and always will be, in those first couple of minutes even i wouldn't have believed it.
When i looked back at myself in the mirror i found it hard to find a single thing i could be happy about. Every day it became harder to look up and down. I thought maybe it was all in my mind, that i was picturing things that may never have been there. Why was i never good enough for myself? I wanted to feel beautiful, but the mirror i looked into every single morning made that impossible. There would always be something wrong, and always be something that wasn't right. Why can't I just be beautiful like everyone else?
I lost it again. It might have been a new record. Every time i finally had it i lost it even quicker than the time that i could enjoy it. I wasn't happy about it, but i realized i couldn't control it anymore. I had to be content with that. Because if i wasn't then i would go mad. Going absolutely mad is like realizing there is nothing in this world you can control, like there is nothing even worth trying for anymore. After i feel that my life will be no more. I will end it,don't give up.
I think i was obsessed with the thought of him. So much that i actually started to believe it was what i wanted. I sat on the bed, tears strolling uncontrollably down my face, while he slammed his fist into the mirror. Glass shattered everywhere, and i sat there thinking of the ways to fix it. Instead, why wasn't i thinking of the reasons i haven't left? Why was my happiness not important anymore? I couldn't tell you. All i know is that in that moment all i could think of is I am the only person to fix it.
There is nothing left for me to say. That's the scary thing, having nothing left to put out into the world. Thinking "what's the point?" Who would care if i freed myself from all the pain and suffering, if i finally got out? And would i even care? Would i think twice, or think of a valid reason to keep going? Or would i just say fuck it, and let the pills slide down my throat until my eyes rolled back and never again opened. I don't care anymore, and i am unbelievably terrified to find out what happens now.
It was that time of year that was supposed to be the happiest, but instead always turned out the opposite. You try and be grateful for all of the things you do have while finding yourself longing for the one thing you cannot have. I think thats just a part of who we were, always wanting more. And even after that we would find a reason not to want it anymore, or an excuse for still needing something else. We were greedy, we were human. And sadly i couldn't think of a single person that didn't live this way anymore.
I don't think i've ever been this stressed out in my entire life. i can't even focus on anything anymore. I couldn't tell you what i'm learning in any of my classes right now because i have no god damn idea. I am almost at my breaking point. I need to scream, or cry, or maybe laugh. I need a bottle of vodka, is what i need, to forget everything that needs to be done within the next three weeks. Even if i can only forget for a couple of hours, i really need to be fucking drunk right now.
So i sit here in the library and avoid everything i'm supposed to actually be doing to write about nonsense. To write about how fucking mentally dead i am. Maybe it will calm me down or something. I really don't know, i feel like i am going nuts. I've never let school work get to me like this, and i'm not even half way done. I know this is definitely still the easiest part, and i can't imagine it getting any harder. I really need to start seeing a purpose for doing this bullshit if i'm gonna get it done.
It has been a few weeks but i'm already starting to feel better. The unbearable days didnt sneak up on me anymore. I could feel the memory of him slowly disintegrating as each day passed, and the weight on my chest was lifting. You don't believe it will happen, and even when everyone tells you it just becomes something that is said. But it really does get better, and you get better after you learn it really is ok to let it go. Don't let your mind at the late hours of the night take over who you are.
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