Slowly they all keep flowing down the river.
Their appearance be nothing more than a ghost.
For eternity being watched by their host.
Making all the rest of the mortals shiver.
By the name, by his title, they all quiver.
The ferryman brings them all to coast.
Are they possibly wondering who misses them the most.
Now there is no escape from their caregiver.
A few lucky mortals though.
Are brought to the everlasting Fields.
Perhaps their linage protected by shields.
Those few ones be embraced by the glow.
The time is ticking, calling on all.
Soon it will also be our time to fall.
Lately I have been asking myself how I am feeling. But I don’t quiet know how to describe it. One moment everything feels as if it is crashing down on me, the pain, the frustration, the sorrow, the confusion. Some days I am so stressed because of it that I am shaking and can’t sit still, like I must keep myself busy so I don’t think about it. Another moment I feel numb and heavy as if I can not move. Those days I just lay in my bed and stare into nothingness. Constantly I avoid thinking too much since I am a afraid of what I feel when it happens. When my mind starts thinking about the future, especially about uni and my mental health care, a voice in my head is screaming “I can’t! I can’t! I can’t!” and if I do not distract myself my thoughts spiral down this black hole. What might have seen like minor things to others have been major to me when things have happened. I feel guilty and bad even when I haven’t done anything wrong. Suicidal thoughts keep creeping up on me. I don’t want to live like this, I don’t want to be like this, and there is nothing I can do about it.
Lately I have begun feeling worse again. Either I feel immense sadness or anger or like most times, nothing. During the summer I am living with my parents again and I hate it. Being close to my friends again would be great if we could actually see each other but when one is off the other one works and the other way around. So now I am stuck in this piss hole for another month and probably won’t be able to see anyone I actually care about. My parents have been on a vacation for a week meaning my brother and I have had the house to ourselves which has been great. Though they came back yesterday. Of course my father sees it necessary to push every button I’ve got. Earlier today I was too dead inside to be bothered but now the hell flames inside me have risen and I am enraged. What the fuck is his problem!? Oh, I’m sorry I never live up to your crazy demands of who I should be as no sane person would do that. I’m sorry I do not have the genes to look perfect so you can just keep calling names at me. I’m sorry I got bullied in middle school, yes I deserved it. I’m sorry I got depressed at the age of 11 and have suffered several mental illnesses since, yes I had it all coming. And above all I am sorry that I did not commit suicid when I was 13 as you told me to do.
I am so mad at every single bloody person who has talked down on me, every therapist who did not take me seriously and most of all my father. One second I am scared that he will hurt me and the next I am furious and want to kill him. ‘That’s normal’ some have told me but sorry I do not suffer from an Oedipus complex as there is no love from my mother’s side either. I am so sick of making excuses for people who do not deserve it especially my father. All my life I have put up with this crap and needed help and since I was 13 I have been seeking it. What have people done? For the most part nothing. Nothing! And I’m sick of it! When I say that I hate my life and people I have a bloody good reason to.
I never asked for this. Not for any of it. Never did I ask for all this pain. The trauma. The sadness. The madness. The anxiety. The delusion. The self-harm behavior. The suicid attempts. The hatred of this life. Some days I do not speak out of fear that someone will hear how broken I am inside. See through the facade I have built over the years. See through not only to the bad aspects but also the good. Because of the above I never dared asking for anything good to happen in my life. Therefor I never asked for a few close friends. The ability to dream. Creativity. Having a small light of hope. Having empathy. Losing myself whilst reading and writing. I did not ask for it, yet it was given to me anyway. And therefor I’m grateful. I am hurting right now, maybe I always will, maybe one day I will not. The bad has brought good with it and I often forget that, for these good things are what is dearest to me. Some day someone might see me, perhaps I will too.
If life is suppose to be so wonderful then why do I hate is so much? Why have I never felt happiness or love? Why do I cry myself to sleep at night, or more commonly why can I not sleep but is forced to lay awake wondering how I turned out this messed up? Each day I turn more in towards myself. I can feel myself disappearing. Every day I break down crying because I do not know how to do all these things I am expected to do. Each time I am handed an assignment I feel like I can do this, but as soon as I read the instructions I get an anxiety attack since I do not understand what I am supposed to do. Nothing makes sense anymore. I cannot even answer a stupid question anymore. I rarely speak anymore, as if I have forgotten how to. I can not remember the last time I had a sincere smile on my face. Not even things that usually make me laugh brings a laughter, only crying. Crying because I do not laugh, not even smile. The worst part is that I thought I was getting better. In hindsight it seems foolish, that I even for a moment dared believe that I could possibly be getting better. What am I even doing with my life? But then what life? How could this possibly be regarded as a life?
Why? Why? Why? Why? Why!? I am so tired of this shit. I fuck up everything I touch. My brain is overworking itself due to all this confusion. My mind is bombarded with thoughts and impressions that I can not comprehend. My body is almost constantly shaking, either out of breath or hyperventilating. Some days I cry my eyes out because I simply do not understand. If only I could vanish. Would the pain and confusion disappear as well? Often I wish I had died when I was 11, when all this begun. So why am I stil here? Honestly, I have no idea. People call me strong because I have suffered with depression, self-harm and suicidal tendencies for 9 years. But this, this is not strength. This is pure madness. Mia once told me that she looks up to me. Me, a bloody role model!? No! Do you find these scars alluring? Is this mind truly wise? Are the suicide attempts enticing? Don’t, just don’t. You may also have anxiety and depression, but your future is so bright. Things will come around and you will become truly happy one day. I shall not stand in your way. You are the closest thing I have to a family, my one true friend. Yet, it often feels as if you would have a much better life without me in it. A long time I have wondered how come you would want to be my friend, and I at times believe that you simply stay because we have known each other so long. I would be sad to say goodbye but if that is what you would want I would not stop you. Mia, you are such a beautiful person in body and soul which you will probably never fully realize. Therefore, if I am the obstacle on the path to your happiness I will leave without a second thought. After all I was born to bring sorrow.
Soon I will probably flunk out from university resulting in me loosing my apartment. Then I am left with two options. Live on the streets or move back to an abusive home. I do not know which is worse. What I do know is that I certainly do not fail to disappoint. My best ability is letting people down. The world, uni, my old friends, Mia and particularly myself. I wish every breath to be my last. In this world of confusion that I live in I feel like a small child. Helpless, uncomprehending, stumbling and lost. It is impossible for me to help anyone, not even myself. And to others I am invisible. Invisible and lonely in this world of pain and darkness.
Maybe putting it down into words seems silly. To others it may seem like nothing. It could have happened to anyone at any time. Perhaps it was not even such a big deal. But still I ended up here. So I have this exam coming up in a couple of days, and in Sweden one has to apply one’s entrance to be authorized to do the sitting. A few hours ago I realized I had forgotten to do the application. Basically, I fucked up and am now not allowed to do it. Like most people I got frustrated over my own stupidity but it should have ended at that. Yet, for people like me it doesn’t. It is a clear reminder about how much I fail in life. My wicked mind went down this black hole thinking about everything I have done wrong. Never trying hard enough, misunderstanding simple tasks, failing to do the most basic things, “being a freak”, trusting the wrong people, messing up and stumbling on my own words and thoughts, not living up to people’s expectations, not being able to commit suicide, being born. Even happenings I believed to be good for me just turned out to be mistakes. Speaking up, believing in myself, choosing life, trying to fulfill my dreams, moving out to begin at university. The latter case is one that I now strongly consider to have been a huge mistake on my behalf. I find it an impossibility to keep up with anything, I have already fallen behind with half a course which is essential, if I do not score enough points for each term I will loose my apartment, most students in my class treat me like I am worthless, if they are assigned to work with me several will ask me to leave, I’m having anxiety and panic attacks during every class and just thinking about going makes me nauseous.
I’m not dumb, in fact I am actually rather clever. Although, being told your whole life that you are insignificant, an idiot, at a point even that you should kill yourself, it is easy to forget. It does not help living in psychosis believing that nothing is real. Some days I can hardly feel touch. I am fucked up, my entire being is fucked up. I am not the only one, though it is incredibly lonely. Especially now when I have moved to a town where people take one look at me before they throw me away like rubbish. There is nothing beautiful about me. My body covered in scars which have multiplied since I got here and my mind far to mad for anybody to ever understand. Maybe I should be alone. That way I would never be hurt by others again. Perhaps I deserve nothing better than this fucked up life. But who would ever comprehend my thoughts? Because putting them down into words is inane.