That’s how I feel. Seriously. I feel like I’m fading away, losing myself bit by bit. I’m standing in the middle of nowhere, a wide field, and the wind is blowing and takes away piece by piece of me. My body, my personality, my soul, my emotions. Everything is slowly being ripped apart until there’s nothing left of me. The storm is getting stronger and darker and I can’t see anything anymore, not even my own hand.
It’s like I’m a fragile flower in a thunderstorm. No matter how hard I try to stay, the elements will always be cruel and stronger than me.

She’s lost in the darkness, fading away
I’m still around here, screaming her name
She’s haunting my dream world, trying to survive
My heart is frozen, I’m losing my mind
Help me, I’m buried alive

Can someone just come to me and teach me how to live?
Because I have no idea how to handle this shit and whoever I ask, I never get an answer. Well, I get answers, but they are stupid. How can people just live without thinking about what they’re doing? How are they actually able to do that? Just get through every single day, only focusing on the own stuff, loving themselves and the people around them? How can they make it without completely falling apart? Without feeling any of the bad shit that’s going on in our world? Because whenever I try to get it out the door to keep it away from me, I don’t feel anything at all anymore.
Then all the feelings disappear and it’s like I’m dead. Even worse, it’s like I’m buried alive. I wanna live, not just survive, but how am I supposed to do that? I tried it in a million different ways, but it never works.
Reality sucks. And humanity anyway. And unfortunately I’m not one of those guys who can just ignore what’s going on outside. I don’t feel like it’s my fault, I know it’s not, but I see how awful it is and that I can’t change it. I mean, what should I be happy about?
There’s nothing to be celebrated!
A boyfriend with whom the relationship will end anyway sooner or later because that’s what all love attachments do? A father who hates me? A mother who doesn’t like me the way I am? A best friend who always forgets me? A society who thinks I’m completely out of my mind? Wow, sounds great. I don’t see a reason for recovery or happiness. Nothing is getting better, actually it’s even getting worse all the time. Nothing has changed. The people, society, the world, my life, my thoughts, reality, it’s still the same shit, so why recover? It’s all fucked up and there’s no savior who’s going to come down to save us one day. Never.

I always knew it wouldn’t be easy, but I never thought it would be that hard.
Why is this happening? All of this? There’s no one to answer my questions because nobody knows. People always think I’m so strong and arrogant and have more self-confidence than any Hollywood celeb. But that’s just my masquerade. We’re all lost in here and I’m in the worst state. I just can’t do this anymore. No matter how good I feel, the pain is with me all the time. No matter how close recovery is, the next relapse is always waiting to bring me down again. It will never end, so I need to end it.
I don’t have a choice. This is tearing me apart, I’m dying inside.

I don’t care if your world is ending today
Because I wasn’t invited to it anyway!


I am so fucking scared and don’t have a damn idea why.
I haven’t had these panic attacks since fall and now they’re back and I have no idea what to do. Right now I’m laying in the bathtub, trying to study while I’m relaxing, but I can’t do at least one of those things. My body is hot and cold, jittery and nervous and my mind is killing me. Maybe it’s because of the important exam tomorrow. Maybe it’s because I think I’ll fail, again.
I’m such a failure. So what am I gonna do? I’ll fail it because I don’t get anything that’s got to do something with calculating cuz I just can’t deal with numbers. There will be bad grades, again. I can only go back to the United States if I’ll study and good universities don’t want any losers.
There’s no way for me to keep going. Nothing ever works in my life.
I’ve been struggling for so many years now although I’m only sixteen years old and my life never was and never will be the way I want it. The way it’s being shown in Hollywood movies. The way it works in normal people’s lives. School, college, graduation, job, marriage, kids. Some heartbreaks, some breakdowns, the parents will die one day. That’s life- a normal life.
But normality will never ever exist in this dark hole I’m stuck in.
Gosh, it hurts so much. There’s this pain and it’s with me all the time, no matter what I do or how good I feel. A part of me stays dead and right now it’s taking over the rest of me. Why is it so hard for me to live? Why can’t the scars on my skin just fade away?
It’s not that I feel sorry for myself or something like that, I just don’t get the reasons why this is happening. Why I deserve this.
Maybe winning this fight means giving up. Maybe we’re all better off this way. I get new pills every month and every time I keep some of them in my closet in a small box. The leaflet says how much you need to surely die and I’ll have enough little pills soon. It’s my backup plan if everything is going to break down again and it makes me feel safe to know I still have this option waiting to be fulfilled in the back of my mind. A deadly plan.

Because right now I’m scared of life, scared of the future, of what’s going to happen. I don’t want to keep going, don’t wanna stay strong and struggle every day all over again. I can’t do this anymore, it hurts so much.
But I can’t take another break, can’t spent another month or even a whole year in a hospital or psychiatric. There are two possibilities: keep fighting for nothing but a stupid dream that may never come true or just… Give up on everything. I already tried it twice and it almost worked, so I have enough experience to make it this time. I don’t know what else to do. The only place where I feel safe and happy and loved is in the hospitals, but I can’t stay there forever. I’d rather die than spend my whole life in a madhouse or funny farm. There’s no cure for the pain and no savior for me because in the end, the only one who can save you IS YOU. And I can’t. I tried, I really did, but I’m empty. Invalidated. Exhausted. All I wanna do is cry, but I can’t. I’m too cold. Please, keep me from falling apart. I’m gonna catch a cold from the ice inside my soul. Every breath feels like dying.

“No eternity, no hope for me and you
We close our eyes and we’re fading away”


Worst feeling.


I hope my tablet successfully uploaded the picture upon this sentence. This quote from The Vampire Diaries (season 4) reminds me of myself. That’s how I currently feel. I don’t know what happened to me. Right now I’m writing to keep myself busy until the time has passed I need to wait after dinner to purge. In my opinion, 15 minutes after a meal is perfect. And why am I doing this? The perfection I’m looking for doesn’t exist in this world and I know it, but I chase it anyway and I’d rather die than give up on this stupid delusional dream. There’s a hole inside of me that can’t be filled. Believe me, I tried to fill it with anything possible. People, food, feelings, self harm, devastation, music, hobbies, passions, disorders, recovery, alcohol, drugs, whatever. Right now I’m trying to fill it with sex although I already know it’s not gonna work. I just need something to keep me from completely going insane. I don’t wanna go back into a damn psychiatric or something. Nothing is cured in there.

Also, I don’t want a new year. The last few have already been so terrible, it’s only gonna get worse this time! 365 new days, but the same old shit. I spent Sylvester drunk and high all the time cuz I wouldn’t have been able to make it through otherwise. I tried it without any drugs the past two Sylvester nights, but I ended up in my bed with a lot of blades and blood. And self hatred. I will never do ‘real’ drugs like pills, shots and syringes again, but right now I feel like I need alcohol and weed sometimes (like twice a week) cuz it’s the only way for me to calm down. It makes me feel numb, fearless, careless, satisfied and free. Without the stuff, I’m always jittery, nervous and overthinking- and that gets too exhausting for me after some time.
I’m just trying to think positive about the new year, but I really can’t. It’s like I’m always only getting worse. When is this pain going to end? When it ends me? No matter how good I feel, a part of me is ALWAYS dead! I can’t remember myself without this rotting piece in my soul. But how can I kill this monster without killing myself?

During my last session before Christmas with my therapist, she asked me a question that keeps haunting me. “How do you imagine your perfect life?”
It took some time for me to answer. In a beautiful Victorian gothic house somewhere in my home state Wisconsin or another beautiful one like California or Louisiana, I answered. I’d have a young daughter, at least five dogs and a husband I would stay together with for the rest of my life- not because of the child, because of true, eternal love. We’d live in a small town to be able to have a huge garden and peace, but near a big city for shopping and whatever. I would have had graduated college (this tense is confusing) and now work with the FBI or something cool like that cuz that has ALWAYS been my dream job. Every Christmas , we’d fly to Germany and visit my sister there because I’m 100% sure she won’t want to come back to the United States. I’d be healthy, happy, and of course, still vegan and a goth girl like I’ve always been. And I would have a family. Finally.
I wish I had this life, but I actually don’t think I’ll ever make this dream come true. There is no cure, no eternal love and no great life for me out there.
We’re born alone and we die alone and what happens in between is only a illusion we create to feel like we belong somewhere and to someone, but we don’t. We all live our own life and it will always end up the same way:
Dead and alone, forever.
And I don’t think I can make it through at least 50 more years until then. No matter how damn hard I’ll try to stay strong. Right now I’m still trying, but I’m not sure for how long I’ll keep doing that…

Grief is back

It just happened. I sat there and read a book (Wintergirls) and suddenly I started to slip away. I had tears in my eyes and I didn’t know why. Then I realized it. I felt this pain again. I don’t know anything worse than losing a person you love, there’s no pain compared to it. Fuck every single trauma and disorder and whatever, loss is so much worse. It’s taking my breath away because it hurts like hell. How can I describe this feeling? There’s an invisible hand pulling me down to the bottom and it slits through my skin and grabs my heart, but doesn’t rip it out of my chest. The hand keeps holding my still beating heart and slowly squashes it. And whenever it notices that I’m dying, it lets go and waits until I’ve gotten better and then… Repeats the torture. Again and again.

People told me time would heal these wounds, but why do they still hurt the way they did when it happened? Nothing has healed! My therapist said it would be because of all my disorders and I’d have to recover first. But will I ever recover? I can’t do this without you! Where are you and why did you go somewhere I can’t bring you back? Why? I’m not mad at you, I never was. I’m hurting and more disappointed and sad than I’ve ever been in my entire life. Not to blame you for all this, but yes, you made my mental condition get much worse. You fucking pinky promised me you would never ever do that without me! You said you’d never leave me. Was it so easy to break the most important promise we both had ever made? I tried to stay strong and believe me, it’s been a though time. But we could have done this. Together. I trusted you with my heart and my soul and EVERYTHING. You said you didn’t have anyone, but what about me? Am I no one? Did you just erase me from your life? You know, sometimes it still feels so unrealistic. After many months of staying away, I went back to our favorite place some weeks ago. Nothing had changed there. But everything had changed inside of me. And I sat there and I actually expected you to come around with your cute smile and adorable eyes, just like you always did. I expected you to sit down next to me and give me a hug and then tell me about your day while you were drinking another coffee. And then you had one of your sudden emotional blow-ups that never had a real reason and we talked for hours until you were able to calm down again. We always catched each other when one of us fell. I had never had a friendship like the one we had before and I never experienced it afterwards. I don’t think I ever will. At the beginning, I dreamt of you almost every night, but even the dreams have stopped. You’re completely gone.

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Sometimes, I still see your silhouette in the middle of a crowded place and then I don’t know if I should smile or cry. The worst thing is the fact that nobody can replace a dead person. No one is like you. Some tried to comfort me with fine words, but it didn’t work because I always knew they were lying. Believe me, I tried to find someone to replace you in my heart, but it’s impossible! It’s crazy that you only actually value someone when they’re dead. It’s always so normal, natural and taken for granted that this person is there. And when they’re gone, you suddenly start to realize that’s an illusion. Life can be so imperishable and sometimes so fragile. It may be able to survive the worst wars or it fades away when you don’t see the small car coming from the other side. Your mom said we all should have seen it coming it because you had always been so sick. Is that true? Should I’ve known you were gonna die? I didn’t because I believed in your strength. Obviously, I was wrong. I can’t get you back. The day you slipped away was the day that I found it won’t be the same… I don’t believe in heaven and hell, so I don’t have a clue where you are right now. All I can do is hope you’re doing fine there and you’ll have an eye on me and maybe, we’ll meet again some day. Maybe very soon, maybe in a 100 years, who knows.


I heard somebody is not dead as long as you keep them in your heart and eternally love and remember them. The love makes them stay alive, inside of you. Where is this love? All I feel is the pain. And it won’t go away. Damn, I wish you were here. I need you. You’re the good in my life and without it, there’s an awful lot of darkness. You’re so far away from me and it’s so sad that I can’t even remember the sound of your voice anymore. Part of me wishes I could erase every memory I have of you because I don’t want to face reality. Even if I wanted, I couldn’t. I still remember the first time we met and talked and still see you right here, next to me. It’s a pain that never fades away. There’s nothing else left. Moving on is so fucking hard after everything that happened. My whole world is so fucked up. Completely. I need to feel your presence, need to know you’re here.

But you’re not.


My story 

Hello world.
This is my first post. For a very long time, I thought about an own blog cuz I thought it would feel good to share my thoughts with the people out there. (And my psychiatrist said it would help me.) So here I go, even with tears in my eyes.

First of all, I wanna tell you something¬†about me. Not things like age and name, I’m talking about the personal stuff. Let’s get started: I moved for 5 times, was bullied for 2 years (age 12-14), have a mom and sis I love and a father I barely know today cuz he’s an asshole, got my eating disorder (anorexia and bulimia which means I either starve or purge all day, that changes time by time) when I was 11 years old and my depression one year later. And then there are also my social anxieties I was diagnosed with at the same age and doctors used to call it social phobia until one of them told me that’s wrong and it’s actually a social disorder. Whatever, docs always change their minds! Also, I have the so called borderline personality disorder and no one knows when it actually came up. To me, it means I can’t really handle feelings. There are overwhelming or they disappear and turn into a horrible emptiness no one can imagine without this syndrome or I just don’t know what these feelings are called. I’m like unable to trust people and afraid of letting them get too close, so I hurt them and push them away so they can’t do it. That’s why I usually stay alone. There are people I love, but I feel like they don’t even know the real me because I can’t show it. I hide behind a wall of lies, act like I have so damn much self-confidence although it never existed in my whole life. I’m a liar, but I can’t help myself cuz I’m way too scared to tell the truth. And because of all this stupid stuff, I started to self harm when I was 12 years old, too and tried a bunch of different ways to do it like burning, cutting, piercing, hitting, slapping and freezing different parts of my body and the oldest scars I have cover my whole legs. I’m glad at least the ones on my arms have disappeared cuz I hate it when I always have to hide them in summer.

What else is crazy about me… I almost forgot my trauma- no, I didn’t forget it, I suppressed and eliminated it. The memories hurt so much. And of course, you want to know what I mean and I’ll tell you because you guys don’t know who I am and I’m anonymous on the Internet. It happened with my first boyfriend when I was 13 years old and because I didn’t tell him my real age, he thought he was allowed to have sex with me. So I lost my virginity and we fucked a couple times and I thought he’d be my one true love (you know, first love is always being overvalued by the teens) until I realized who he really was. An abusive, violent, addicted junkie. Sadly, I noticed it way too late. When he had me, he started to always boss me around and made me feel like his slave. Because of his aggressive behavior I got scared of him and when I said something against him, he hurt me. I didn’t tell anyone (fear!), so I lost control and it had suddenly gotten so far that I did drugs because he wanted me to and had sex with him even when I didn’t want it because when I told him my opinion, he turned from the perfect boyfriend he was in front of others into the fucking asshole. Then there was the day when I finally stood up and defended myself and well… I went through a night I will never forget. He abused me, sexually. Rape. For weeks, my skin felt like it was on fire and I had never hated my body so much before. I felt like I was rotting from the inside. I can’t tell any more details, it’s really private. The only person I ever really told about it died. Also a depressing fact about me. I lost my very best friend. She was the only person that knew everything about me. No one will ever get my whole trust again. I was finally able to completely open my heart and head and… Then she killed herself. Not that I’m mad at her because of it, I know all the reasons. I’m just hurt and disappointed. There will always be something missing in my heart. Emptiness. A piece of me that was ripped apart by this loss. The very best quote I ever heard about this topic was said by Damon Salvatore (The Vampire Diaries):

“When you lose somebody you love, every candle, every prayer is not gonna make up for the fact that the only that you have left is a hole in your life where that somebody that you cared about used to be. And a rock with a birthday carved into it that I’m pretty sure is wrong. So thanks, friend. Thanks for leaving me here.”¬†

I could never express the feelings better than Damon did in season 4 (watch it, it’s epic).

Because of all this shit, of course I went through a couple therapies. The first one when I was 12, a stupid psychologist who didn’t have a clue. One year later, I attempted suicide for the first time. Tried to throw myself in front of the train. Because of my fear, I had gotten drunk before, so I was so damn stupid to miss the train I wanted to be killed by. Someone in the train saw me and the police found me before the next train could come. (I lived in a cottage, so not many trains passed) I was sent to a locked psychiatric for a whole month and I really wanted to recover. The problem was… They lock you up in there, but don’t cure you. They lie to you and say everything would change. But I never met someone who can say it really worked. This kind of hospital only exists to protect: you from yourself, the world from you or you from the world. The therapies are there to keep you from dark thoughts and boredom. But that’s the fact they don’t tell you in there. Of course I had a bad relapse at home and even attempted suicide again. Deadly drug overdose. You know how easy it was for me to get drugs although the only things I’ve ever been addicted to were cigarettes for 3 years and weed for 4 months. I’m ‘clean’ today. Back to the topic:¬†I didn’t die because I was found by my mom and taken to the hospital by the emergency. I almost died, but barely survived. Today I don’t know if I should be happy or sad about it. Locked psychiatric again, for 3 weeks. Then I was send to an open one. Only difference: school and day-release with other patients depending on how much the doctors think they can trust you. I was allowed to go home after 4 months and yay, had another relapse. I wasn’t stable enough yet and bullied again when I went to another school. But this time, my mom realized my condition before I could try to kill myself again. She noticed it because I was very underweight at that time. The ED made me barely eat and exercise way too often. I spent other 3 months in the same open mental hospital and then people decided to not allow me to go home again. A therapeutical residence or facility, I don’t care how you call it. It was so horrible there and everything was getting worse and worse until even my body almost gave up. I spent some days in a normal hospital because I spit blood all the time and my heart didn’t beat normal. The passing out had already started at the age of 12, but now it was so bad that people noticed something was wrong with my physical health. I couldn’t stand it any longer and told my mom about it because I didn’t want to do another suicide attempt again. Wise choice. We finally found a great hospital, a so called psychosomatic clinic. You know why only this one worked? They have a real therapy concept! You don’t spend your day drawing pictures and making music, you have to cope with your illness! They focus on the reasons why. The disorders are only symptoms for your problems! That’s¬†why their especially for your disorder made therapies work. They know what it is about. And they don’t tell you any lies there. You don’t just get through the stuff in there and then you go home and everything’s fine. NO. That’s not how it works! It’s not like a broken leg. You lay there and wait until the docs have cured it. NO. It’s a very long process and the relapses are part of it.

There is no key to recovery. But this year, I was able to find a way how to get through this without giving up. It’s okay not to be okay as long as you’re not giving up. Yes, I’m scared and I often think about dying and I binge and purge, but I have already gotten so much better! I have a completely normal weight, my body’s fine and today I purge like once or twice a week. I once did it 10 times a day. I also barely self harm, can eat in public, don’t control my weight anymore, can go to school, got my concentration back and I had sex again. Drunk, yeah, to suppress my fear, but I know I’ll soon be able to sleep with my boyfriend without any alcohol. And I’m able to live at home with my mom and my sis. I’ll try to fight, no matter how hard it is because this year, I finally found reasons to live, goals to reach. That’s the most important thing in recovery: a goal.

Although I feel so desperate and empty right now. I’ll just keep going and try to make it through.¬†People don’t want to kill themselves. They only want to kill their pain. Stay strong, guys. Thank you so much for your attention.