Fuck You Very Much

You know, I see you. I hear you. I know you’re there. I can feel the shards of judgement stabbing into my pale skin. I know the hate pulsing out of your mind. Why do you hate me? Is it because I stopped responding to your text messages? Is it because I wouldn’t snap you back? Is it because I didn’t want to go and see a movie? Is it because I didn’t want to talk about what you want? Is it because I didn’t want to go for dinner? Is it all of the above?

Did you know, that when you asked me to hang out, I was so exhausted from my racing mind that I all I had energy to do was sit in silence? You asked, and I didn’t answer because I didn’t think that I was good enough to answer. I didn’t answer because you never asked how I was. You never asked if I was okay. I always asked if you were. You never picked up on the habits I was forming. It’s like I was turning into what you wanted to talk to.

I’m so fucking sick of it. I’m sick of feeling like I’m in trouble for wanting to stay home. Why do I need to give constant interaction and communication just to have a relationship with you. You’ve made life choices that I had to smile and nod at, but my life choices have to be criticized because I wasn’t with you when they happened. How is that fair? When I say I had a horrible day, you just finish it off with a “oh I’ve had days like that” and then that’s it. You don’t take a step back and realize how much I’m suffering.

You’re so incredibly toxic in my life. You poisoned me.

“We’ll get together when you’re better.” That’s where your stupidity really shines. There’s no getting better. There’s coping, and dealing with what you’ve been giving. I’ll never change, this is part of who I am. It’s not all of me, but it’s a part of me. You can either accept that, or leave my life. I can’t sit and wait for you to acknowledge me. It’s  pointless.

You’re not what I call a friend.

Advertisements

So You Said That I Was Done

It’s like, endless whispers in you ears. Piercing your eardrums every second. Causing your heart to skip, and freezing your brain. That’s what it feels like. Every single second.

Every second is filled with racing cars on a highway. Crowded and fast paced. Crazy and uncontrollable. Why?

Wouldn’t we all love an answer. “Too bad”, the brain says.
It tells me to suffer. It tells me to cry enough to fill the parched rivers. Let the flowers grow with you waterfalls. Let the storms brew with your ecstatic breath. And lay beneath the dirt in your nice warm bed and look at what you’ve created. A deathly masterpiece. You’re done. Just a museum now.

It’s a freak show.

I avoid the drugs. I’ll make my own if it solves my problems.

Doc, these don’t help. Doc, these make it worse. Doc, you’ve froze me. Doc, fix me.

My depression will fix me. My anxiety will soothe me.

Hello Darkness My Old Friend

I think I’m going to just lay here and stare into the blank canvas that is the dark. It consumes my whole room, but i’m not scared. I should be; scared of the unknown. Or is it known, but just not to me.

Here I am having a shitty night, like the many shitty nights I’ve had before. Try rethinking, try taking a breath, try to relax, try to evaluate things in a different way. Where did this come from? Where did this fucking come from? The tidal wave hit me and drowned me. My skeleton is all I have left.

Where did this come from?
Why did the wave hit? Why did the wave hit me? I can’t swim, I can’t breathe.
I thought if I revoked the nutrients I would be able to float. But here I am. Losing energy as I reach for the surface.

It’s dark.

And I’m back in my room. Cringing for a flashlight. I take a breath. It’s not enough.

It’s never enough to survive this. How can I survive the feeling I have when I can stay up all night? When I can brag to my friends that I didn’t sleep? But I wasn’t drunk, I wasn’t watching Netflix. I was crying. How can I brag to my friends that I was up all night crying about nothing. What’s to brag about? Each time I can’t handle it, do I brag? Is that how I get the attention I secretly don’t crave? How do I get their attention if I die when I get it? If depression had a manual, don’t you think I would have read it? Trust me I’ve googled it. It’s not real. It’s not a reality that is reality. It’s not real. It’s like dancing point for the first time and your ankle snaps. Everything is over. You’re done. That’s all you get.

Nice try. I almost lost you there. You’re worried now aren’t you? I’m going deeper and deeper. But look honey, I’m already there. There is no more deeper to go, but somehow the hole keeps going down. We’re running out of breath.

How can I impress you? How can I prove that I am enough? That’s it though? There is no proof to give because I am not human, I am not proof worthy. I am worthless.

My eyes are closing. I’m tired. I’m exhausted. But I will not sleep. I can’t.

50/50 Tickets!!

Well, here we are again.  For once in a happy place! My nails are painted, my belly is full and my body is relaxed.

What shall we talk about today?

This post is going to be a little short, and maybe a little surprising to some!

I’ve got a secret to tell. What might that secret be, you ask? Well here it goes, I’ll tell you. But you have to promise not to overreact and freak me out. I’ll run like an ostrich and stick my face in the sand. And if I freak you out, well, I gave you the perfect way out!

Before I reveal my super secret secret, I just want to say something. I want you to remember that I am still me. I’m still the person you know, but after this maybe I’ll be a little better. I expect to be treated the same and not as an object (I don’t even know if that makes sense, but whatever, as long as it’s a gold object that’s cool). I’m not doing this for attention, it’s only for me, so haters can go hate somewhere else, cause Taylor Swift would be proud of my shake.

Alright, count it down. 5….4…3…2…1!

I’m bisexual!
Surprise!
I’m out!

So. Now you know! Take it how you want, but honestly, if you don’t like this, well that sucks to be you. I’m open for questions that I know y’all will have! I love you all. And I hope you love me too!

That was easier to type than I thought. Seriously though, I’ll go get some 50/50 tickets in light of this and sell for $5 a piece, just hit me up! 🙂

Dear Future Husband, Person, Thing.

Dear possible men that may enter my life,

Welcome. Please keep arms and legs inside the car at all times during the ride. You may notice that I’m a little different then your average woman. You may find yourself suffering from whiplash once you exit the rollercoaster. Sadly, I won’t be getting off. You’re welcome to continue riding at your own risk.

My thoughts are ran by the Tasmanian Devil, and he can be a little scary but also very flattering at the same time. I don’t think that you should be afraid, he won’t hurt you if I say no.

Sometimes when I read, I read out loud in a British accent because it makes me feel classy. I want to feel classy. I’m not classy.

I like jokes that no one thinks are funny. I also take these horrid jokes too far so people stop listening. I also tend to pick at your ego until it bleeds. I don’t mean to, but remember that I really enjoy those awful jokes. I promise though that way deep down I feel awful about it.

And because of my (you could call) craziness, I tend to take liking way too far.

Hey, at least I get my point across. Cause honestly, what is this friend zone bullshit? If I like you, than we’re already friends. Why does it have to be a zone? Why do we have to be stuck there?

Like, what do I have to do? Cut off the fat from my chaffing thighs? Curl my lashes? Remember to pluck my brows? Nah, fuck that. I mean, I could do the thigh thing as chaffing hurts like a bitch. But I wouldn’t be cooling the fire for you. Do I need to stop being myself? Before digging into me and my body, you take a stab at yourself.

Do I have a “You can look, but do not touch” sign on my back? Oh, I don’t? Then why are you so afraid of me?

“Don’t forget, I’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her.”

Break Time

To the manager that doesn’t understand why I breakdown so easily.

It’s not because I don’t care or that I have no interested in trying. It’s not because I purposely try to be horrible at my job.

I struggle with the constant battle of wrong and wrong in my head (yes, wrong and wrong). I try so hard every day to be a good employee for you. I know that sometimes that doesn’t show, but I promise you that I want to try.

I can’t help it when I disagree with the changes that are made. Whether it is good for the company or not, sometimes I’m just simply uncomfortable with what we have to do. I don’t like asking people things that I don’t know. I know it’s part of a sales job, but I just can’t do it. It’s a part of me that you will have to understand. I can’t change that, but i’m working on it.

All of the times that I have cried at work isn’t because of something that you have done to me personally, but because I can’t handle the pressure. That’s something I know you won’t understand. I deal with the pressure of the world and everyone else’s on top of mine. It’s a lot to handle. I know that you see me always happy and laughing, but it’s just a face that I have to put on. It’s my hiding place.

I don’t want you to treat me differently, but at the same time I wish that you would. I think differently, react differently, breathe differently. I’m not like every other person. I’m going to have horrible days, but the kind of horrible I want to take a knife to. But I’ll also have amazing days where I’ll never stop smiling. I’m sorry, but there won’t really be an in between. Maybe for a split second, but that will be the changeover.

I suffer from minor depression and major anxiety. I don’t want to blame the illness, but it definitely affects my job performance. I’m working so hard on trying to fix my life, but it is a pain I would never wish on my worst enemy.

I just hope that you listen to this, not as a cry for help, but for an equal understanding that I hope will help in the long run of the company.

Not everyone can do what you ask of them, because they may be dealing with something way deeper than you would’ve thought.

You are amazing people, and I am so grateful to have this job as a life opportunity, but you need to take a step back, as you’re pushing way too much, and you may just end up pushing me over the edge.