I may be gone but my absolute love for the two of you will live on. I’m certain you’ll be able to feel it when the air is still.
This is going to be a bad night, I can tell.
I just found out that I’m not half bad at realistic drawing.
Okay, so that’s me spending tens of hours doing a portrait of Loki from an Avengers screenshot then.
Art has saved me from pain and taking my life so many times in the past. I guess it might give me something to concentrate on again right now instead of ripping myself apart, watching myself bleed, crying my eyes out or even worse.
The question is whether it’ll be enough this time and unfortunately I don’t know the answer to that question.
Hearing your dad call you fat during an argument with your mum and then hearing him full on screaming at your son to ‘shut up’ because he was upset and crying.
Worst part is: knowing you can’t say a fucking thing.
Please life, keep throwing all this amazing stuff at me cus don’t I just love it.
For fuck’s sake, get us out of here.
It’s like.. a few hours ago I was considering going on a date with someone, actually risking myself to see if happiness exists elsewhere.
Now I’m just realising that no one will accept what I am. That I will be walked over and have my kindness and love taken advantage of by anyone who gets a chance. I know that I’ll never have the chance for a normal life, I’ll never have a family, get married, go on holidays, make memories, build up a lovely photo album. I know I’m not meant for that any more because I’m not good enough. The things I’ve been through in the past and especially recently have taught me that.
Tell me.. if I can love someone with my whole soul, promise to give them everything, do anything I can, try my damn hardest, go against my parents and behind their back for him, lie for him, stick up for him, swear on my life to always be there for him no matter the time of day.. if I can do all that and then he chooses to suddenly ignore me without a single reason or word.. what does that make me? Better yet, if I can tell him the heartbreaking news that I lost his unborn child and that I need him right now.. and he still doesn’t care enough to answer me.. what the hell does that make me?
How does that make me special? How does that make me worthwhile?
It doesn’t. It proves to me that I’m what I’ve suspected I was for a long time. Nothing. That I’m not worth it. That me, my feelings, my heart and my love are utterly disposable.
And people wonder why I sit here and why I’ve started destroying my arm again, why I cry before I go to sleep, why I desperately do ANYTHING to distract myself from thinking because it’s dangerous for me to do so. Why I sleep so much, why I don’t eat. That is why. Because every time things start getting ‘better’ or look like they might be worked out I’m proved right and the thought is only solidified more and more in my mind.
This goes to him: You know what’s fucking sad? I may have been a little clingy, only because I didn’t know what was going on and I wanted to know you’re safe. I may have been a little closed off, I may have held back because I didn’t want to let my guard down and because I was scared of this happening again. I may have been many things but you can never say that I wouldn’t do ANYTHINGand EVERYTHING for you. Never. You can never say that I don’t love you.
By all rights I should fucking hate you, I should curse the day you were born. I should feel that you don’t deserve to know me.. but instead it’s the other way round. I feel like I do everything wrong, that I am to blame ALWAYS.
But you know the saddest part? I will always love you no matter what and you will never care.
I have no idea if I should listen to you.
The last thing I need or want is to get hurt or played.
Do I try and move on from this by taking a blind leap of faith or do I just stay as I am? Waiting endlessly and sticking to what I said because I know, deep down, that I won’t be happy?
I don’t know what I want..
I’m not going to post any more ‘okay this is it, I’m going to die.’ text posts or whatever. I realise now that it’s pointless and repetitive, I’m even annoying myself with it.
I’m not going to tell anyone any more. I’ll just disappear one day and that’ll be it.
Fuck. My brain won’t shut up, I keep getting all these images, memories and weird slide shows of things, some of them are real and some of them never happened. It won’t stop! I don’t know how to try and make it stop either, the only thing that works any more is sleep and I’m doing that less and less these days. And even then my dreams are very often memories and.. faces that it hurts to see.
I can’t handle hearing my own voice in my head all day any more, constantly criticising and reminding me. My parents went out earlier and I was reduced to screaming ‘shut up!’ at myself over and over to try and distract myself or drown it out but even that didn’t work.
I keep finding these lumps all over myself lately, they seem like insect bites but a lot larger. I’ve found six now, in totally different areas of my anatomy. Every time I find one the first thoughts that run through my head are ‘Oh I hope it’s a tumour. I hope it’s cancer. I hope it’s some horrible terminal illness.’ I feel bad for thinking it but it just pops in there.. and I know it’s honestly what I feel.
Every day I pray for something bad to happen to me, I walked by a car that pulled over ahead of me after it passed me on an empty country lane the other day with no fear or suspicion in me, just the hope that I’d feel someone grab me and pull me in.
Every night I pray and cry and beg that I won’t wake up, that I’ll just mysteriously slip away.
I know it’s horrible but it’s true.
I can’t handle it. It’s too much and I’m too much of a wreck, too broken.
This is going to kill me, I know it is.
I can feel shit getting out of control again and I know it’s just a matter of time before I attempt again.