Fuck, when it’s like this, I just need to scream. I just need to be heard, I just need to be seen. It’s hard feeling as though I’m going through this alone and yeah, I know sometimes I do it to myself, I isolate myself because I cannot stand to look at those that I believe the lies about, the lies my anxiety tells me. Isolation is hard but feeling alone when you’re not alone is harder, and so I withdraw. I cannot explain what it is I’m feeling exactly and I couldn’t tell you why, I’ve been through a lot, to Hell and back and it did a number on me. The medicine helps, it usually helps, but lately it doesn’t. Everything looks all wrong and I hate it. I just want the world to go back to the way it was yesterday, but yesterday it wasn’t so great either and come to think of it, I can’t remember the last time it was. Maybe last week? The week before?

I’m alone, even when I’m not and it’s so damn hard sometimes. Trapped inside this mind of mine that will have me believe the most horrible things about myself and the people I love the most. Some days I scream at this part of my mind to shut up and leave me alone, some days I cry and beg for it to be still so I can see the truth. I am a prisoner inside of myself and it’s just so damn hard sometimes.

What will make this all better? Therapy? Because I’ve tried that for the past couple of years. Medication? Because I’ve done that too. Religion? Because there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t pray for this sickness to be lifted from me, and sometimes it is, temporarily. What will make me whole again?

When it’s like this, I just want to destroy something beautiful. I want to cut straight to the heart of it and make it bleed, metaphorically speaking. I want to chop it down to where I am in this dark place, maybe so that I won’t feel so alone, maybe because it would give me power to know that I can hurt something or someone that deeply because they would only hurt if they truly care, right?

But instead I pour myself onto the pages, over and over I’ll say the same damn thing until the hurt inside of me pours out of me, until I can purge myself of it. Then comes the remorse for damaging the beauty around me with the darkness inside of me, but I couldn’t control it, it took over. I’ll feel terribly about it but it will still have happened. I’m always searching for that which will willingly let me destroy them, and myself, with my darkness and then afterwards, together, rebuild all that it was as it was before. It is a high price to pay for love, brokenness is, but it’s all I have to offer when it’s like this.