So fucking alone

I feel so alone, I can’t even breathe. There’s this huge hole inside of me and it’s black and deep and keeps growing and devouring everything of me. It’s like I’m losing myself bit by bit. Every night, another part of me just fades away into the darkness and I can’t reach out and get it back. That part; I feel like it’s gone forever. And it hurts. The pain is so intense that I struggle to keep breathing. Why does it hurt so much? Why can’t I get better? Why am I feeling like this? I’m not alone, so why am I so lonely? And why the hell am I not healing? The wound is bleeding and I keep putting plasters and bandages on it, but it won’t heal. I just keep losing blood. That person in the mirror; it’s not me. I’ve been replaced by depression and it hits me like a freaking hurricane, destroying everything it touches and leaving nothing behind expect for destruction. Damages that can’t be repaired, issues that can’t be fixed. Can I be fixed? Is there even hope for someone like me? After all these years, is it even possible to fully recover? Or will a part of me always be dead? Will I always feel like there’s something missing even when I have everything? Is this ever gonna end? Since giving birth to Jamie, I’ve been feelingalive for the very first time in several years, but still there are parts of me that are always hidden away, always in the shadows. This kind of fits right now:

When you go into the ER, one of the first things they ask you to do is rate your pain on a scale of one to ten. I’d been asked this question hundreds of times over the years, and I remember once early on when I couldn’t get my breath and it felt like my chest was on fire, flames licking the inside of my ribs fighting for a way to burn out of my body, my parents took me to the ER. The nurse asked me about the pain, and I held up nine fingers. Later the nurse came in and she said, “You know how I know you’re a fighter? You called a ten a nine.” But that wasn’t quite right. I called it a nine because I was saving my ten. And here it was, the great and terrible ten, slamming me again and again as I lay still and alone in my bed staring at the ceiling, the waves tossing me against the rocks then pulling me back out to sea so they could launch me again into the jagged face of the cliff, leaving me floating faceup on the water, undrowned.

I wish I had a Freddie to save me. But darling, this isn’t Skins and I’m not Effy.

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