MyLife

Its weird to me I guess.
I say I guess because I don't really feel much.
I'm cliniqly depressed, have anger issues, I cant sleep, been abused as a child, i'm a drunk, i'm dyslexic and to top it off im on medication to keep my sanity sane.
I don't think people have any idea what its like.
Its like you know when your wide awake, 24/7. You cant sleep. You close your eyes and sure you see blackness like everyone else but you dont feel it. Now by it I mean you know that tired feeling where you get all relaxed and your mind melts into peace. Well it just doesnt stop for me. No melting. The bit where your brain switches off , all I have is an on and on switch. I hate sleep but i still lie there and eventualy dose off.
I have to much to think about.
I don't understand how people can sleep, dont you think? How much time are you wasting by laying your head against that pillow, hours, weeks, years.
You know what makes it worse? When i dream it feel like reality to me because of my anti depressants. The pain ,the hate all of it real. Worst is the love and happyness. How can I sleep at night and dream of love only to wake up and find its not there when I felt it so deep in my heart? I feel it as real as you feel it when you are awake. Vivid shades of red.
Apparently I am always prone to depression. For the rest of my life I have this dark cloud. My depression grows from my childhood of being abused. Beaten up and screamed at by my parents. That never sounds as bad as it feels. Your parents are there to love you, how can I love that much pain?
Its like there where so many rules; my inicence was spun with so many rules I didn't know where to turn. So I didn't. I locked the world out so i couldnt' feel a thing. Blew myself so full of emotion that i didnt know where the tears came from anymore. They just flowed and twisted there hateful way down my face. Secretly scaring the skin they so smoothly kissed.
I told myself a lie. A lie about my life, it was all alright. A few lies a day kept the tears away. Then it turned into more than a lie, it was my own world. Inside my head. I didnt feel any pain inside that little skull of mine. I could imainge what I wanted. Overactive imagination they would call it. I took myself places youve only dreamed about. I spent hours there, I would of spent my life there but try as I might I couldnt force myself to give up reality. So the lied where always there. Little red lies. Those beautiful lies to lock up the pain.
Then it started to leak out of my carefuly sewn box. Spill. Flow. Run. Drip. Yes blood does drip. It also drops. I changed into a self harmer one day. And stayed like that for a few years. I got "help". You see they don't notice when your head is fucked up inside they only notice those neatly laid red lines.
Then that started to not get enough. But it wasn't love enough to start drugs. I merly took up another hobby. Drinking. It was magical this drink Alchol. Made me feel a million fucking pouds. Like I had no worrys. And you know what I loved, it stoped all the buzzing , all the thinking and voices inside my head. So I drank at weekend. Drank my life away. Then school walked along. Oh no your thinking? And the answer is yeah.
Funny thing though is I had a good set of friends that sat next to me in classes and made me work drunk. One of them even wrote my courswork for me. She was nice. I did her Ict for her. Ict was always my favourte subject , everything to do with it just clicked in my brain, as did maths. But thats another story.
I loved gettin drunk in school. You see im so quiet I blend. Blend perfectly. So none noticed expect my friends and they wont tell me on will they. I used to love laughing at exam paper the lines all merged into one and no matter how hard i held my pen it would make waves. Back in the good worry free days.
Yes i got "help" for that too. I love the way when ever im happy in somthing i need help because sociaty doesn't like the way I treat myself.
But it didn;t stop with the help. Soon the achol wouldnt stay in my blood long enough so i started to add in a few overdoses. You see on an overdose it feels like your weightless floating along. Hell the next day though, your tummy feels like its eating itself.
At this point I was still getting beaten up and told i was worthless. Yeah great self esteam i had. Oh i almost forgot, i got bulled. Push aginst walls and kicked to the floor that sort of crap. So i wasn't best please with my cut drunken overdoes beat-up life. So whats the solution. Go on put yourself in my shoes and guess?

Suicide.

What a beautiful word.
Did you know i can take 15 painkillers and still wake up? I can slit my wrists and still manage to watch it dribble. I can sit on a windowsill four floors up. And yet I wanted to keep living. Somthing inside me wanted to keep living. I felt I hadn't punished myself enough. Oh yes self hatred ran strong through this ones veins.
For the first time I felt so alone inside my isolated world.
I wanted another person to cuddle me. My arms where tired from cuddling myself.
So I went and found a few people. They made me in love. In love with the world and in love with the little things. The pain didnt matter anymore. It got burryed down deep and the lies mixed in the the beauty of it all. For a few months I can honstly say I was happy. Of corse in the back of my head I realised I was living a lie. But if a lie feels this good why not lie?
I went to a Phycatrist. For a year I convinced her I alright. She still saw the marks on me. I didn't tell her of my overdoese's and small drinks. I just kept loosing it every now and then.
My sister was wearing my sock. My socks. I didn't have many friends and they buaght me socks. So they where mine. So I locked her out of the house. But I had this twisting stab of guilt we all get and let her back in. She said she was going to burn my stuff. So I slammed the door again. Rested my head aginst it and watched her through the glass. My happyness had made me feel emotion. I couldn't numb it anymore. She screamed at me, and as she pushed her face aginst the glass next to mine. Something beautiful happened. All my angry spread out through my mucels giving me aderenaline. My body took over, anger controling in. I punched the glass. I need to get to her. I need to show her pain. So glass smashed in her face and I saw her scream and stutter backwards and I laughed. I stoud there laughing. Blood started to drip down quickly from my knuckles. Deep red hatred leaked out of me. I was practly glowing happyness. The blood driped to the floor and I started to cry. I could hear my sister shouting at me. She is convinced I want to kill her. But it was all in the distance, a mumer in my mind. The pain in my hand didn't bother me as i clenched my fist to pop out any glass. More blood ozzed out and I went into the lounge and sat in the corner. I let the blood drip over my leg and I held my knee crying. Id lost it. And right there my anger issues where born.
People soon found out about my abuse. The police questioned me and I got a Social worker. God I hated that bitch. She did shit without asking me. I came home and one day my parents knew id told people about our little secret abuse. They left me in the house alone with them.

All of that happened in two years.

Last week i went for a meeting with my social worker and phycatrist. This time I didnt lie. Id had enough of liying. I'd spun my coffin with so many lies and expectations I was half alive. My phycatist has set up a meeting for me with a Doctor. On my birthday. Lovely 8th of Febuary. I'm going on pills. Antidepressants.

All those lies, all my own worlds, everything I tryed to make myself forget was for nothing. I worked so hard to be told im on pills. Apparently depression crawls up on me. These magical Antidepressant pills will get me fake happyness, help me sleep and eat. Make my suicidal thoughts less. I'm going to miss them.

You see when you don't give a shit about the world nothing can hurt you.
Its when you care that your in trouble.
I don't think yould understand, because none understands.