Vedetje_25

Every time I look in the mirror, I feel a wave of disgust welling up inside me. The disgust of self-hatred stemming from things that were once said. You can never be good enough for the people around you, but never for yourself either. The disgust I feel for myself is so strong that, piece by piece, I view myself in the mirror with complete negativity. Every day when I look in the mirror, I want to be beautiful, but I don't think there will ever be a day when I will finally be able to think of myself as a beautiful person. The way I think about myself is breaking me down more and more, day by day. My mind is so strong that soon there will be nothing left of me.

Blood runs down my thighs. Almost as beautiful as a waterfall. The waterfall is actually the happy life I long for. It is so soothing that I would like to get closer to the waterfall every day. The path to the waterfall is full of bumps, making it anything but simple, but to overcome this road, every now and then a red waterfall appears that runs over my legs, allowing me to keep going. The red waterfalls are there to make the bumpy path to the waterfall a little more bearable. Apparently, this is only a temporary relief from the pain, but I don't know if I will reach the waterfall without this aid.

Leaves fall from the tree in autumn, just as my tree loses leaves of hope every day. The only difference is that the tree does not look any better afterwards, but dies completely. Leaves of hope give the tree strength to carry on, but the bad environment in which the tree finds itself is destroying it. My tree tries to convert all negativity into oxygen, but no matter how hard it tries, it is quietly giving up.

I hate myself, I hate myself so hard that I don't want to be here anymore. My body lives without my spirit and is empty, an emptiness that must be filled with love. An emptiness that feels like a sieve. You try to fill it, but everything runs right through it. No matter how much love enters, you can never fill it. Eventually, this process comes to an end; the people who want to give you love have had enough of the fact that they cannot help you. This is the story of my life. They try to give so much, but I remain empty. An emptiness that can be filled.

“I got killed by a demon. The demon took everything away from me—my life, my power, my will. I fought so hard, but it still killed me. You cannot beat the demon inside your head.”

I killed myself, not in a way that i don't live anymore, i just died inside

Can I do anything? That is the question I have been asking my whole life. Every time I have the courage to try new things, but every time I fail again. It is so hard to have to fight for everything in your life, whereas for some it comes naturally. Practice, practice, practice—that is what they say you have to do, but the more I practice in life, the more I fail. My dreams are so big, but reality knocks them down. I would like to believe that I can do it, but it is simply a fact that I cannot. For some people it is a given, but for me, clearly not. That is why the hope of continuing to believe is fading away; my hope was once a great wind, but now it is just a breeze on a warm summer day. I don't know if I will survive this heatwave.

It takes everything, until it takes your life...

I hate myself, I hate everything about me, why am I like this, why do I act like this, I want to be myself but I can't, I adapt to people's personalities but why, do I want to be accepted? Do I want to feel like I belong? Or do I not want to be mean? I don't like people but I do care about them, maybe this is the only purpose in my life? Am I made to make people happy? But why do I have to act like this, can't I be normal for once in my life? I want friends, sincere friends were I can be myself, but then I also have to find out who I am first.