No Strangers Here

It’s one of the longest nights of the year

and my soul aches from the pressure it brings.

As the darkness surrounds me,

I open my eyes and see much the same.

I lay in the small, worn bed of my childhood

as the silent tears glide down my face,

softly landing and expanding the never-ceasing puddles.

The tears are no strangers here.

My well-trained pillows are familiar with

muffling the screams and questions

that come straight from my damaged heart:

Why am I not good enough?

Why don’t I deserve love?

No one will ever love a damaged soul like mine.

My soul aches with the weight of carrying questions

that can never be asked or answered.

They are a burden I’m left to ponder

while staring at my ceiling,

trying to make out the faint details in the plaster

as I’ve done so many times before.

I’ve been here before.

I know I’ll be here again.

There’s no way to fix me

and even if there was,

it’s been made clear many times

that no one in my life will ever try.

I’m not worth it.

No one will wastes an “I love you”

on a girl destined to die.

 

Advertisements

Why Don’t You Love Me?

Why don’t you love me?

I’ve done everything you’e asked of me.

I’ve spent years adapting myself

to be someone you could be proud of.

I work hard to be what you want

but why aren’t I good enough?

What am I doing wrong?

Why don’t I deserve your love?

Please tell me. I just can’t take it.

I need an answer. I’m tired of crying.

I know I’m not perfect

yet I always strive to be

for you, not myself.

I want you to look at me .

I want you to see me,

the person in front of you,

as someone you want to be close to.

But no matter who tells you

to open your eyes and see

what me for what I am,

you always choose to look away.

Why? Wy is so hard to aapreciate me.

I just don’t understand.

Why don’t you love me.

Memory #5

I’ve decided to start up this segement of my blog again where I talk about memories from life that made a major impact on who I am today. Memories are just non fiction stories from the mind of an author just waiting to be shared. 

(Disclaimer: I’m not currently suicidal, just depressed and overwhelmed. I was looking for an answer while things are sort of good so that hopefully they won’t get bad again. I have no intention of hurting myself at this time.)

When I was a freshman in high school, I was very suicidal. Like it was all I thought about everyday. I thought about killing myself on a near constent basis. I made on average one plan a week to off myself and I came pretty close to going through with it a handful of times. This memory is going through my head because almost exactly six years ago today was the day I got called into the counselor’s office to talk about just that. The only friend I had confided in turned me in and tried to get me help.

I was anxious to go into the office, but I told myself that this would be good. I was finaly going to get help and everything was going to be okay. I would finally stop feeling these things that destroyed me inside. Someone that would do more than say a few comforting words would hear my problems and give me a better solution. I walked into that office with the woman more hopeful than I had felt in a long time.

I was so wrong.

I answered all her quesitons truthfully. I gave her honest answers about the things bothering me and the thoughts I was having. She called in my parents (which was about the last thing I ever wanted to happen) but I thought about this optimistacally too. I mean someone had to pay for the therapist or medication or whatever they were going to get me so I could get better.

That’s not what happened.

Basically, the counselor told my parents that I was fine. That I was being over dramatic. In her words that I’ll never forget: “It’s just a phase. She’ll grow out of it once she learns to get over herself.” I was devastated. The woman who was supposed to get me help and make me get better brushed me off. She denied me help. She said my feelings were invalid. She said I was basically justa normal teenager looking for attention. I was so dissappointed.

I thought my parents would side against her and pursue other options. They are fighters and seem to go overboard on everything. Well they did and they didn’t. We went home and they called a professional psychologist who did an assessment with me over the phone. Obviously I was fairly hurt at this point and was less truthful about me answers I skirted around the whole truth in order to protect myself from getting more hurt.

The professional who had never met me and couldn’t see me to know that I was lying told my parents that they most likely would not need to make me an appointment but they could if they wanted to. They declined. Of all the blows I recieved that day, that was the worse. My parents didn’t care enough about me to make just one appointment just to be absolutly sure that there wasn’t a mistake.

Keep in mind they’ve been sending my brother to therapy once a week since kindergarten to deal with his special needs.

Less then two months later and my parents appeared to have forgotten the whole ordeal. They thought everything was fine, but the truth is I just got better at closing my mouth because talking about it just made things worse. So much worse.

They think the problem just corrected itself but obviously it did not if I’m sitting here 6 years later with those see feelings still floating around. I’ll admit I don’t make plans anymore like I used to but the idea is stil there. No matter what issue I’m faced with, it always shows up in my mind as an option. It’s been six years and I still don’t know how to cope. I still don’t know how to solve my problems. I am unhealthy. I am forgotten. I am ignored.

 

I tell you this story because due to this strign of events I have an extreme fearand anxiety of counselors, advisors, psycologists, and basically anyone else who could try to help me. I have severe trust issues due to this event and I’ve never been able to reach out to someone for help again.

That is until today.

I tried calling a counseling office today. They’re open and encouraged you to call over and over on their website. So after 3 years of working up the courage to call this number, I finally did and you know what happened?

Nothing.

I got put through to voicemail. I couldn’t work up the courage to do that in just seconds. I hung up and to be honest, I’ll probably never call again.

(Disclaimer: I’m not currently suicidal. Just depressed and overwhelmed. I was looking for an answer while things are sort of good so that hopefully they won’t get bad again. I have no intention of hurting myself at this time.)

Waiting to be Noticed

Most of my days

consist of me,

sitting around,

waiting to be

noticed.

 

I watch and wait

for someone to

see me struggle,

but no one sees

me drown.

 

I scream for help

and wave a flag,

but somehow I’m

still forgotten;

ignored.

 

I’m dead inside

and soon to be

outside but yet

no one seems to

care much.

 

I Can’t.

I keep telling people

I can’t keep doing this.

They tell me that I can,

But they just aren’t listening.

They don’t understand.

They don’t take me seriously.

I’m not joking around.

I literally cannot take any more.

I can’t hold anything else in.

I’m done.

I’m not just on the edge anymore.

I already let go.

I already decided to jump off the bridge

Because nobody told me to stop.

You Can’t Do This to Me

You can’t do this to me.

You can’t keep running

In and out of my life

When I need you the most.

I’m vulnerable. I’m fragile.

I’m physically falling apart.

I’m already emotionally broken.

You can’t act like you’re

Going to make everything better

But then never come around.

I already feel ignored

By everyone in my life.

Now it feels like

You’re abandoning me too.

 

I Can’t Go Back

I can’t go back.

I can’t go through that again.

You said I was fine,

Just an attention whore.

I’d be fine eventually.

I’d get over myself.

 

I can’t go back.

I need the help,

But you said I didn’t.

I can’t be rejected again.

It took a lot of courage

To say the truth,

To admit I wasn’t okay,

And you said it was an act.

 

I can’t go back

and be told the same thing.

I’m even more afraid now

That my cries will be ignored again.

No One

The doors are closed.

Madness is shut in.

No escape for me.

I’m left in the dark.

Why am I ignored?

No one hears my screams.

Feel so unimportant.

Unwanted; undesirable.

What if I just disappeared?

What if I just never return?

What if?

I’ll tell you what.

No one will care.

No one will look.

No one will miss me.

No one.