A new day has just begun, I’m sitting in a bus on my way to a mountain where we’ll wander with our exchange students today. The sun is shining, I got drunk yesterday, my boyfriend stayed for the night, we had good sex and today he left after breakfast to go to work. Everything is fine, but I wish I was dead. I don’t understand these breakdowns. I don’t understand my mind. I was so happy yesterday and now I wish I had a razor to tear apart my skin. I remember a quote from one of my favorite bands called The Pretty Reckless: my body breathes, heart still beats, but I am not alive.
That’s exactly my condition right now. Even though I’m alive, I feel dead inside.
I really don’t know what to do anymore. I try so hard, but I just can’t get away from this shit. What am I supposed to do? What do you want from me, depression?
I tried everything I could! Why are you never ever satisfied with what you get? I fucking don’t want to die, I want to survive this shit and recover and have the life that I’ve always wanted, the life that I deserve! But it just doesn’t work! I just don’t know what happiness feels like because no matter how good I feel, there’s a pain that’s with me all the time!
Whenever I feel better and things get positive, there suddenly pops up something to destroy me again. There’s a demon in my head making my life a nightmare I can’t wake up from. I just wanna cuddle up in my bed, cover my face with the blanket, turn on depressed music and never crawl out again. I try so hard to hold on and stay strong, but this is basically impossible.
What am I doing here? Why am I acting like this? Why don’t I even remember what it feels like to be lucky? On Monday (my birthday) I’ll officially have depression for four years and the ED for six. No one knows for how long my personality and impulse disorder because no one knows when it actually first came up. My psychiatrist assumes I’ve already been like this as a small child. Such a great motivation. I’ve always been sick.
I’m so incredibly endlessly sad, so desperate, so miserable. Nothing makes sense.
The pants I’m wearing today are too large now because I lost weight. But it’s not enough, not yet. I wanna be thin and fragile again even though I know it won’t make me any happier, but at least I’ll be prettier and the eating disorder will give my life a little control and sense back. I’ll have something to focus on again. The weight loss.
I won’t just keep rotting like I’m doing right now.
This body is a cage, this life a nightmare.
Sometimes I wish I could just end it, end it all, but I have to stay strong.
For me, for my sister and for my boyfriend.
But it hurts so damn much. Every day, every minute, every second of my life.
I’m so glad when I’ll finally be in hospital again in summer. I won’t feel any better there, but at least there will be people who know what to do with me because I really don’t have a clue how to handle myself anymore.
I just wanna die. Maybe I’ll do it. Maybe it will work this time. Maybe I won’t turn 17 anymore. Maybe it will be all over. Maybe it’s better that way.