reflection on the parallels 11/8
maybe it was intentional. from god? from some higher power. what purpose would it serve. give me something to think about maybe. to see where i've been and where i am now. to look back on the past where i was grasping on this. but where am i now? its not anywhere better. i used to self harm once in a blue moon. now i do it regularly. i used to be depressed every so often but i'd figure my way out and learn to see the sunlight. i've been in a depressive episode for 6 weeks straight. i don't think that after contemplating suicide for as long as i have i should still be here. that's a topic i may brush up on later. regardless, this made me write. to see different periods of my life at my north, south, east, and west; i ask myself one thing, what have i learned? maybe that i am lovable but even that is not enough. trials are tribulations will get you to your goal at one point, but what happens when the goal is lackluster. not to say that it is but, it didn't solve anything. i thought that once i became skinny enough and had a boyfriend that all in my world would be sunshine and daisies because not only would i be pretty but i would be loved. validation of sorts. i am both now. i can confidently say i am pretty, very pretty to some. i am loved deeply. yet, neither of these things fixed me. when i had a little less years on me, i spent my depressive moments longing for this life. i thought that once i fixed my flaws everything would be ok. how do i tell her that no matter that goal you reach, you'll always be sick. it makes me lose hope. my therapist says i need to work on using better language for my emotions rather than: upset, weird, odd. i am melancholic at the fact that achieving my goals will not make me feel better. it makes me worry for the future. i would like to graduate and have a good job. we also discussed a "chain of motivation". breaking down my big goals into smaller ones and what i want from them. how do i tell her all that i really want is to be dead. i am tired of fighting a losing battle. i don't do this for myself. when i think of the suicide i have neatly waiting in a satin lined gift box in my dreams, i get deterred by external factors. my friends and family would be so utterly devastated by my death. (they see my suffering and don't do anything, mostly because they know they can't.). My mom would maybe off herself and i think it'd shatter those close to me in a way that alters their view of the world forever. i'd like to think that somene at my funeral would give a speech like: she was so happy and a joy yo every room she was in, you'd never know she was struggling. but i do try to give subtle signs. you see my wrists. you see the scars. you see the posts. you see the weight loss. you see the dulling of my character. i guess people are blind to things they don't want to see. fair. i also think about what i would be giving up. the life i wouldn't get to live. maybe i'd do something in the world to make a difference. i'd lose the opportunity to do so many great things. never get to experience a full life. none of this is moving enough to get the thought out of my head, but just moving enough to make me not do it. or maybe i'm just so depressed that i don't have the stores to carry out what i know must be done. all the energy i have left is spent on school. If people knew how much I was suffering I wonder if they'd do anything different. I tell my close friends all the time how horrible I am. nothing changes. if i was them i'd do something. then again, i am not them. no one will love and care for me the way i do others. it's not that their love is bad. they do their best. i just need more and i know i'm never gonna get it. i kind of want to go to the hospital. to see how everyone would react. would i get flowers? would people come to see me? i dont really want any of that, or am i too selfish to say that i actually do. I'm not sure how this turned into a monologue about my fantasy of suicide when it was meant to reflect the symbolism of events that occured today. maybe this does reflect it.
*unintentional page break bc i can't type more in that text block*
i got what i wanted and still. nothing. maybe i'm even worse. i felt a sort of adrenaline i feel guilty for. the past looking at me in the present. i wonder how it felt. did it want to call out to me? was it proud? can it see how poorly i am doing? would it want to make it worse. it'll pass by me soon enough and at that point, i won't have it to look back on, or i guess look at. i may cut myself once i am done writing. something to feeeeeeel. south past may be unbothered. or maybe just curious. or maybe resentful. i dont think west past thinks as deeply as i do. i don't see any light at the end of the tunnel. i feel so sad for the girl i was back then. i miss her hope. she at least had the hope that when she go to her dream state, she'd be better. she had hopes that once ehr goals were reached that she'd be better. maybe they're haunting me. all the negative juju. cannot handle it. all i can try to do right now is push through. everyday that's what i've been doing. maybe this was something to make me feel something more profound than an apathetic depression with spurts of distraction. now i can reflect. i don't think this reflection is any really good in terms of helping me get better but its getting me to write. i think its funny that i only really write when i am sad. i think thats where my art thrives. my emotions are the most creative when i'm trying to use them as a scapegoat to express emotion. maybe i am art in my core. when i kill myself i should like type out how my suicide was an art piece to get people to think. then i'd be famous. i don't really want that but i want to do something profound. i can be taught about in classes. then maybe i'd just become another students dreaded homework assignment or reading. then again i'd rather do that with my suicide than just have it be devastating. would i be able to clearly write out an explanation. maybe i'd title it "the battle lost" or something cool like that. this is cool to think about.
am i selfish? maybe. my mom lost her mom. my boyfriend lost his father. his mom and brother battle serious depression. then again everyone has things they deal with. i have deep dark secrets i can't even share here that i have to deal with daily. is it selfish if i am the only one fighting this fight. maybe its some sort of self advocation. "i don't want to do this anymore and i don't have to". all i think about is killing myself. i dont want to keep living. thats it. nothing seems worth living more. maybe i just need to be more grateful. maybe. i dont really care to put effort into anything other than my looks, space, and schoolwork at this point. oh! i also put a lot of effort into others. do they put the same effort into me. i dont think so. no one would care for me like i would for them. going back to a point i made earlier. the thought that brings me pure bliss is the thought of me taking the sharpest razor i can find and running in down my arm. like cutting open a pillow. the fluff would get everywhere and ecstacy would release. then it'd be done. i'd be done living this facade. no one really knows how i feel except my therapist and even then i don't know if she fully comprehends the scope of what i deal with. no one can hear me cry. no one. i need help. maybe i do need to go to the hospital. i'll make a big mess of myself for attention and then everyone will be mad and i'll go to the hosptial. what will it accomplish? i'm not sure. it'll be a self advoation for sure. look and see me suffering. please. help.
that's all. thanks.


















