fear the monkey

I feel as though I’m slowly losing my mind. I’ve become good at faking a smile in such as I even believe the “I’m fine” speech. I’m not fine, I’m messed up, broken inside. I’m attempting so hard to stop myself from relapsing again, so damn hard, but I don’t think I’ll have strength to do it much longer. I’m sick and tired of feeling sick and tired, and I just want all this pain to stop and yet, I’m too fucking cowardly to end it all. Death scares me, but sometimes I’m completely ready for it.

I’m confused. I feel as if this has been going on for so long now. But I constantly think I’m being pathetic and these feelings I have are normal. The strange has become mundane. However, when I look back at my bad flair ups I always think “I was really unwell” but when I’m going through them I always explain things away by saying to myself I’m merely being a drama queen. Then when I look back at my bad times I realize how unwell I can get, I dunno. I don’t want to die but I wish I wasn’t ever born.

I almost swallowed pills last night during a depressive episode. I had no motivation or reason to do it, I simply wanted to see what would happen.

I hate when people ask to explain. How do you explain to someone you maintain a pain so strong and so deep it makes you want to die? That you harm yourself to take away the pain. That it will all truly feel better if you had a bullet through your brain.

I’ve just come to a point where I no longer look before I cross the road, wishing for a car to hit me or even thinking of being hospitalized. I live for near death experiences, hoping to find my old self again.

This is, of course, an unattainable delusion…