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trying to feel like me again
message 14301:
by
Erin
(new)
Mar 23, 2024 01:13PM
I have never seen the ocean and I have never seen her
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scared of this empty feeling that sits in my chest
because how can I when she was everything
she saved me when I didn't think I could be saved
she understood me when I didn't understand myself
she introduced me to a whole new world when I thought life wasn't worth living
and that scares me more than anything
how much of the life I am living is real and how much of it is inside my head
how much of all of this have i made up
but I have to write this damn book because I will not be able to move on and to keep living life the way I have been
I jsut wish I could feel like I could breathe again
NaNoWriMo upsets me because of the "controversies" surrounding them
and I said I wouldn't let it impact my writing but it has
I'm still writing but I'm just reminded that a company I believed in so much ended up failing so many people
I feel like I'm suffocating under the pressures of who everyone needs me to be and I keep fucking up
Some people die before they’re dead. I always thought I was one of them. One of the ones who was too much for this world, who was too fucking angry and too fucking sad to be of any use. I never thought I’d make it this far. A secret opinion: I think it’s stupid that I’m still suicidal after all this time, after all those failed attempts, and after everything I’ve been through. That’s why when people ask me if I’m suicidal I tell them “sometimes” or “no” or “not right now”, but none of that is the truth. I’m always suicidal, even when I’m fucking laughing- its still on my brain in the worst ways. I think that’s why I had that panic attack yesterday, because I’m trying so hard to be somebody I’m not. Someone who goes on dates and who can be happy and who feels anything other than this mess that I am. I think that’s why I tried to blame my mother for my feelings of inadequacy, but it’s not her fault that I am the way that I am. Sure, she played parts in my trauma, but so did I. We can try to say that I was hurting, that I needed help, but I was getting help and it still wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough for myself. I’m still not enough. And I don’t know how to live with that.
If I was someone else, I think I would’ve liked me. But I’m not. I’m just me. And I fucking hate how broken I am.
and like i'm slowly or very quickly going too fast toward a breakdown
it's personal
Books mentioned in this topic
30 Things I Love About Myself (other topics)Challenger Deep (other topics)
Throes (other topics)
P.S. I Still Love You (other topics)
Delirium (other topics)
