The Polluted Waters

I have spent a very long time trying to pull myself out of that dark corner of my mind. Years of dipping my feet into the water as the shadows entangle themselves around my ankles barely able to resist the temptation to pull me in. And sometimes there was no resistance. Some days I was pulled into the deep end with no strength to fight back. But as the tide began to lower, I found the ability to pull myself out of the shallow. for a little while, the dark pool had dried up. there was no more lake of tainted water. Just the stains left on the empty pit. It was gone and my mind was left peaceful. Today, It overflowed. the pool filled back up faster and darker than ever. This time I didn’t have to go to the water, it came to me. Its hunger reached for me and yanked me to the bottom. My arms and legs flailing. My lungs pounding, begging for someone to pull me out, but no one can see. No one can see the chains clasped around my ankles, the ropes around my wrists, causing them to bleed. No one can see the blood-soaked sleeves of my shirt, the water pouring into my lungs. They don’t see anything because the shadow forces my smile. My smile is a cloak hiding my pain from the outer world. I have tried everything I have ever know to escape from this hell, but its hold is stronger than it has ever been. I can no longer breath. My lungs are being flooded with the darkness from that corner of my mind. I am slowly, painfully drowning in my own thoughts, my own fear. I was a fool to think I could ever escape this. I was a fool to think the shadows wouldn’t someday take over my entire mind, my entire body. My blood is polluted with the corrupt emotions my mind is feeding me. My blood is begging to be spilled. Begging to be released from my body. I am begging to be released. I am afraid where this might end.

Relapse

Its presence haunts me. Like the wounds it causes. Every move you make is a reminder of its company. I have not looked at it for a very long time. For the last time I did, it almost cost me my life. The weight of it stings my skin with just the thought. I have not looked at it in a very long time but for some reason I cannot let it go. I picture it my head resting in the small container holding it. Confining its power so it cannot weild me. But still, my mind is constricted with the thought. Darkness spilling out of gaping veins that it has yet to open. My body shakes with the expectance of what might happen if my head cannot resist the thought of its cold touch. The same cold touch that freezes everything with in me. The same cold touch that causes me to solidify like a sculpture made of ice, shattered with a simple touch, that melts from its fractures. My eyes cannot shift from the memories it has left on my body. My fingers run over the white lines and I read their stories like brail. There is a feeling of absence when their is no irritated lines to break up the picture. There is a feeling of emptiness when there is numbness in the skin that is a product of my past. There is and urge to reach for the light that reflects off of it. But my skin begins to itch because it knows what is coming. My eyes fill with the clouds I have stolen from the sky to fill my soul and I can no longer see the outline of my own hand. My body fights the war that I have put it through. Though it knows that when the battle begins my mind will win. This is not a beautiful story. This story ends in blood soaked soil drowning me when I cross the battlefeild. This story is not beautiful. Because my body’s screams are like the screaching of tires across the hard asphalt. My sunken in cheeks consume the rest of my face. My feet refuse to carry a cavernous body that has become a home for the mosters within it. I am fighting against my own body and we all know what that leads to. No metaphor can make that hole 6 feet deep any prettier than the insects already decorating its walls.

Miserable Moments

They asked me how I felt.

I said fine.

Little did they know

there were demons inside my mind.

I want to break my ribs and rip my heart from my chest and bury it so deep that it will not be able to feel the people walking over it. I want to plunge a knife into my chest and rip it down to release all the demons trapped within me. I want to open my veins and drain them of the darkness running through my blood. I want to take a gun to my head and feed the demons the only thing they are begging for.  My mind is not a safe place and if I shared that with you, you would never look at me the same. I know what to say and exactly when to say it in order to please people. I have plastered a smile on my face so that no one would guess otherwise. They will never see a side of me that I do not want them to see. I am alone. For now, I am good with that.

Afraid of Me

I wish I could take in the little moments of release again…like I used to. My entire body is tense. I shake like I overdosed on caffeine. Still, I cannot relax. I soon as I get the chance I feel guilty. Should I feel Guilty? Something keeps eating away at my soul and I am losing myself. Forgetting who I used to be. Forgetting the happy I used to feel. What is happening to me? I am eternally exhausted and I am afraid you can see it from the outside. I am afraid I might treat them different because I am different. I don’t want to hurt them. They deserve so much more. They all do. Am I worth this pain. Is life worth this pain. I cannot breathe anymore. Someone has reached into my chest and is pulling at everything there. Why? Why can I not stop them? Why am I still here? I am not afraid of them…I am afraid of me.

Reaction

I have been walking around like a zombie. No facial expressions to be the tell for what is going on in my head. Even if I tried, I could not make any expressions for not even I know what is going through my head. I have been so angry and upset, mostly toward myself, but I have absolutely no idea how to fix it. I wish humans were like cars. We could just pop open the top of our skulls and fix whatever is wrong. Alas, we remain a mystery, even to ourselves. I am not quite sure who I am anymore. Interestingly enough, I do not expect to see what I do in the mirror when I look. I do not see me. I see a stranger attempting to convince me of her innocence. I do not know how to react to anything anymore. I am not even sure of the things I enjoy anymore. I guess now is as good as time as any for an existential crisis. In four months my life will change forever and I am not sure if I will be able to adapt. My mind has become so separate from my body, I am not sure of anything anymore.

The Only Thing On My Mind

It has become a nightly thing now. The tears. The clawing. The silent screams. I am falling into old habits and it hurts like hell. All of the things I have been running from for so long, I am beginning to run into. My head hurts. The headaches come so easily now. It is like they barely ever go away. Why does it hurt so bad? Why do I miss you so much? I wish I could let go. More than anything. Well, maybe I want to talk to you more than I want to get over the fact that I can’t. I do not know what to do with myself. I am running in circles. In the entire day, nothing matters, it all leads up to the moment when I crawl into bed and turn out the lights and the demons spill out of my mouth and envelope me in darkness. Have you noticed that I am dying?  Should I tell you?

Monkey In the Middle

I am stuck in the middle looking out for everyone else. I am in the middle and no one is looking out for me. I am run over time after time like a dead animal on the side of the road nobody seems to notice. Huh. Dead. Death. I am dead inside and nobody cares enough to see. I am the watcher. No one will watch me. My life was made into existence for the sole reason of prolonging someone else’s. I now know the only emotions I will be facing is numbness in my attempts to avoid stressing my life to be a crutch for yours.

Just a Body

I haven’t been in this much pain in so long. I thnk I forgot what was actually like. Every single movement, every choice, every word, every thought dedicated to this pain. It is like I am just a hollow shell walking through the day while my mind is stuck somewhere else. I should not have let it get this far. I should have stopped it before it got this bad. It is all my fault. It always is and I cannot keep letting it happen. I run into one wall walk around it then run into another and decide to climb over that one. It just keeps getting harder. That fall off the top of the wall just seems to hurt more each time. My chest feels hollow. It is so hard to breath. I need a reason and I cannot seem to find one. I am forever caught in a hopeless loop of self-torture and self-loathing. I am eternally running from myself.

leave the lights on

It is all alright until the lights go out. When I turn the lights off, my mind runs crazy. Everything I once knew becomes a lie. It begins to fill with strange realities that I wish to be nightmares. Nothing seems real, but at the same time, it is all too real. Can you imagine your fondest memories of the day and it all being consumed by black shadows and darkness. My mind is overcome with monsters, demons, and all my greatest fears. It is a scary place to be, your own mind. You are stuck, trapped, with no one to help you out. You are stuck to save yourself.

Dead

Every breath. Every word. Every step. Every day. It all ends up the same. Painful. every day I wake up with a fear of facing people. What will they say? What will they think? What will happen to me. I am worthless, hopeless, useless, pointless. There is no point in acting like everything is okay, when it is not. I hate waking up and having to look in the mirror and see myself. See how much of a failure I am. I know that when I walk in to school that everyone else, will be thinking the same thing, and I have to act like everything is alright. Like I am perfectly fine and they do not faze me one bit. But they do. I am eternally and hopelessly dead. To myself and everyone else. But why do I have to keep pretending? Why should I continue to be in so much pain? Why should I stay, when leaving is so much easier? On myself and everyone else around me. It is pointless and so am I.