Sick to my stomach I try to put the words in a fine, fine line. They stop and they go and come back, but still wrong. I haven’t said a word in hours. I’m quiet. I’m still. If I move the tears will spill. Run down my face, but I can’t take it today. Tonight. Alone and mad, bitter and scared. Wishing bad things to happen but at the same time trying not to think at all. I feel dizzy. I want pills. Mood swings again.

Happy. Positive. Bitter. Mad. Sad. Hate. Love. Crazy. Relax. Scream. Cut. Pills. Hurt. Careless and then WHY.

I managed to put the words in a line. My thoughts. The words that are being said loudly inside my head. The words making me wish I was dead.





Today I realized that I don’t deserve to feel like this all the time. To have a handful of good days that don’t even last a full day. I thought about going to a shrink again, but I’m moving in two months so what’s the point. Today I looked myself in the mirror and actually found the courage to look at myself. It was only for a minute or two, because it was for that long I could hold my tears back. My focus has been all over the place. Mainly on my relationship which is still crap and not going any where. Today I decided to focus on me.

I met up with a friend of mine and my friend has just started using anti depressant pills. The conversation went fast over to my thoughts about it and I told my friend that I used to take them. It has been two years since I stopped. Two years because I could finally feel happy without them, and now I’m ready for them to help me again. I’m scared that the happiness won’t come back this time, but all I can do is try.

Tomorrow I’m going to call my doctor and ask for an appointment and tell him the whole story, my story. I can’t wait to feel lighter again. It has been so long. I want to wake up in the morning and feel well rested and smile. I want to be able to sleep without making myself stay up until dawn. I want to feel better. I can’t wait.


The end

A strong woman once said that if you leave him and he comes back, well then he’s a keeper. What if you did that and he doesn’t come back? Then you’re screwed. I guess I’m screwed. It feels like I’m screwed, but I’m not backing out. It hurts all the way into my soul, but I’m done being understanding and sitting on my ass. I did the only thing I could, but it didn’t end well. I’m a wreck, but alive which is more than I have been before. I guess I just need to hold my head up high and think about the wonderful things that are coming my way, but who I won’t be able to share with the one I love.. loved.. love.

I’m not empty yet, but I can feel it slowly running out of me and the tears aren’t that many as in the past. Is this a sign that I did the right thing? Perhaps or perhaps not. I guess time will tell if this was the right thing or not, but I’m not backing out. I did my time. I served. I was there. I’m done fighting.
I’m done living like I have. I’m on the train to change. It hurts, like ripping off a bandage from a new cut. It stings like hell for some time until it suddenly stops.

I did cut again, this time it was deep. I needed it to calm myself down. No pills this time, at least not yet. I’m doing okay. It has been one or two hours and I’m doing okay if you don’t count the cuts. I’ll be okay. I just need to breathe. Just need to breathe. Just need to cry. Just need to be alone. Just need alcohol. Need to forget. Need to buried all the memories. I’ll be okay. I’m strong ain’t I?