I’m in midst of my sadness, I was good for a couple of days, but mostly, not.
Yesterday I felt like ending it all, I was contemplating driving my car in the wall, or driving into a truck. Quick, painless death. And than I thought about driving my parents car, and realising they’d be carless. So I stopped the car and cried my soul out. When I came home I had to pretend I’m okay.
I can’t tell them what’s wrong with me. Every time I answer ‘How are you?’ with ‘I am not okay’, they’re scared. So scared.
I tried to release my agony in the gym. I over done myself and nearly fainted in the dressing room. I don’t know why I’m so self-destructive recently. I am not okay.
Depression caught me again today, and now it’s peeling off my cuticle and eating me through the bones.
After six months you left me; you’re no longer interested in being romantic with me. Suddenly that’s too personal. Kissing me is too intimate now. So you kissed my forehead until I made you tell me – why. What’s the matter.
And you say you want to taste the dating ground, meet new people, date new people, and you’re not ready to be in a relationship, and that you could never love me. So you want to leave me behind, because if you end everything now, and tell me how it is, I will remain your friend, your best friend, because you tell me everything, we get along so well, and you don’t want to lose that.
But that doesn’t work, does it? I cannot be your friend, and pretend all is alright, just because you decided so. You think I can just forget it all and move on. I can’t.
”Don’t cry, nothing happened”, it happened to me. I fell in love. You know it, I know it. Your decisions hurt me.
If I am to respect your decisions, and not see you romantically anymore, then you are to respect mine: I cannot see you as a friend.
Yes, I love you. Yes, I am fond of you. And yes, I love myself enough to allow myself to let you go.
You are so close yet I am so alone.
It annoys me when you do your best to comfort me because I am not able to return the favour when you’re upset. And you stay there, and lay next to me and hush in my ears ‘all is gonna be okay, I am here’. I know, I see you; but why? I’m embarrassed because I cry in front of you, and I know there’s gonna be a breaking point when you will not be able to take my sadness any more. I don’t know why I cry. You’re unfortunate enough to have met me in this period of life when my depression and anxieties are having a ball. I am sorry.
I see I immasculate you with my behaviour. I don’t mean to. I am going to lash out sometimes and it’s gonna be ugly. And you say you’re happy because you haven’t seen me mad before. And if I would know how beautiful I am when I smile I’d smile all the time.
and this is not a romantic comedy. I am not blue a little and it’s gonna pass after I cry a little bit. I have lost my motivation. I can’t keep up with my work. I am not able to pick stuff up from the floor.
My books are there. My notes are there. My credit cards are there. My bills are there.
I’m afraid to meet with you because I think you’ll end up with an ugly mark.
This overwhelming sadness; crawling up and down my spine. I feel it enter me and fill my lungs: I’m drowning. You conniving suffocator, you lure me in it every time. And I always think this time I’ll be alright. This time I’ll make it. And then you tickle me to the ground. Now I’m on my bed and helpless and I can’t cry for help – there’s no sound. I feel tears running down my face – you are happy – as you continue – now dancing – on my spine.
We talk about feelings and you leave me with a lump in my throat, and then you wonder why I can't speak.