I’m making it through my finals. I honestly don’t know how because I don’t study at all (tried it a couple times, but I can’t focus) and feel rather shit 24/7 with a smile on my face while I’m getting all of my tasks done. My son is the only reason why I’m even doing this. He’s the good in my life and I need a little good because without it, there’s an awful lot of darkness. But God, I’ve got so much rage inside of me that I don’t have an outlet for. I’d never be violent because that’s strictly against my morals, but something makes me hate everything. Everything. But because I need to find something positive to not lose my mind completely: At least the numbness is not showing at the moment. That’s probably the worst part because it makes me feel so empty, so dead, so hollow, like I’ve lost myself completely. Not that I’d show it, though. Maybe I should become an actress. Hell, I’m good at pretending. I act like I’m just relapsing a little (and even that only in front of the few people I feel kind of close to) even though I’m falling to pieces. And the worst part? Even if there was a way to stop it, I couldn’t.
I’m hurting, hating myself, constantly relapsing, in need of vodka to fall asleep sometimes, sometimes back to the eating disorder I thought I’d defeated a long time ago, and even if someone knew, nobody would bother to do something about it.
You know what the weirdest part is? I have everything you could wish for- my family is whole now (I could still kill my father, but he gladly isn’t a family member anymore), I’m making my way through the final exams, I live at home again, I smile, I have a son whom I love more than anything in the world and still I feel more alone than I’ve ever felt in my entire life. That’s probably the strangest part of all this crap inside of me. One piece of me died and has been replaced by the pain. Nothing but pain. And it makes me so angry. But hey, smile, right? Like nothing ever happened. Sometimes I want to scream that no, I’m not okay, but why bother? What would change?
Such a beautiful masquerade. They say secrets hurt, but it’s the truth what hurts sometimes.
Sure, I keep fighting every day. But I gotta stop lying to myself about things getting better cause they’re not. I’m not a pessimist, I’m just being realistic after spending almost half of my life with mental disorders. Yes, I’ve been fighting like hell every single day to survive and there have been better and worse times, but whenever I felt like I was finally recovering, the next relapse was right around the next corner, waiting to crush me down like a wave all over again. I have lists of things that make me happy, people I love, memories I hold on to, a box filled with positivity (a blue one from IKEA with scented candles, magazines, photos and lots of other great things), but they all just light up single moments. I’m aware that life is made of many moments, one after another, but I can’t spend my energy on making every single one a good one. I’m stronger than I’ve ever been even though I don’t feel like that at all most of the time, but I’m not strong enough for this. I tried so hard and got so far, but in the end it doesn’t even matter.
I had to fall to lose it all, but in the end it doesn’t even matter.
Don’t get too close
It’s dark inside
It’s where my demons hide