I want a reason to doll myself up and look pretty.

Deaf

I still think
I still think all of the time
My mind still never shuts up
And my thoughts still never quit racing

But something is different

My thoughts go as quickly as they come
I can't remember my own thoughts
From a mere ten seconds prior

I can't grab my thoughts
They don't solidify anymore
They never touch ground
They only fly away

I can't hear my own mind any more

Staircase

Have you ever been kind of zoned out while walking around somewhere? Sometimes I do this. I'm completely in another world and paying no attention to what I'm doing and where I'm going. I used to do this at my school all of the time. I'd start off on the upper level and I'd just start walking around. A few minutes later and "snap back" into reality and realize that, without even being aware of it, I had migrated to the lower level.

My depression often manifests itself in a similar form. I just start mindlessly wandering around, and without even knowing what I'm doing I start going down and down and further down until I've reached the bottom. And I don't even remember getting there at all.

Sometimes, like today, however, when I "snap back" and realize where I'm at, I'm not quite at the bottom. I'm like three-fourths of the way down - or at least this time I am. I've kind of stopped, looked up, looked down, and then looked back up and realized that walking back up that three-fourths flight of stairs is gonna be a hell of a lot more effort than just walking the quarter of the way down.

And so I'll just walk all the way down. Completely aware of it this time.

I'm so afraid of going insane

It's hard for me to even talk to people because I'm always afraid that I'm not even talking to anyone real or replying to anything that was really said. I have no evidence to support that my mind is deceiving me, but that doesn't lessen my doubt. Sometimes I just wonder if I'm driving myself crazy wondering if and fearing that I'm going crazy.

Tears are just demon piss

That's what tell myself to make myself stop crying.

Words

I always forget the words I want to say before I get the chance to say them. I always feel sentences that I just can't articulate. They sit inside me and bleed like a wound I can't see but can only feel the pain of.

Statistics

It's midnight

I recall a statistic that someone in the US commits suicide every fourteen minutes

103 suicides per day

It's a minute shy of a quarter past midnight

And I wonder who is quietly sinking into their death

A peaceful death of pills and liquor

It's two minutes short of half past midnight

And I hear the cry of a child

Awakened by the sound of the demon who cursed the life out of his father

With a gunshot to the temple

It's three minutes shy of a quarter until 1am

And I can feel the splash of a young woman plunging to her end

During a midnight swim with death

She thought, “I can finally fly” and couldn't finish her next thought

It's four minutes short of one in the morning

And a chill goes down my spine

“What if I'm that next statistic,” I think

“What if I'm that 'fourteen minutes?'”

What if I don't make it to one in the morning?

What if this is the end?

And so I stick the blade deep in, and I think to myself,
“I better be that fourteen minutes.”

Self-loathing

I'm sorry for every time I owed you an apology

But I wasn't able to swallow my pride

I'm sorry for every time I put myself

Before your well being

And most of all, I'm sorry for kicking you in the ass

When I should have been kicking myself in the ass

I'm scared, so scared

I'm scared.

I'm scared because there are so many people inside of my head, and they won't get out.

I'm scared because I know that logically I shouldn't believe that they're there.

But I still do.

I'm scared because I can't look someone in the eyes anymore.

I'm scared because that's how they enter my mind.

They look into my eyes, waiting for me to look back, and then the second I do, they enter.

They enter into my minds and sometimes they never leave at all.

Self-mutilation

Sweaty palms

Uneven breaths

Tremoring hands and legs

Heavy beating in my chest

Dead and numb

Fingertips, stale and old

Afraid to breath

Because the air is so cold

The world spins

Fast and stills quickens

Each time I inhale

My thinning blood thickens

Toes tingle

And knees become weak

My mind cannot think

And my mouth cannot speak

The pale silver moon

In its sharp crescent form

Makes the blood in my wrists

Flow and grow warm

I begin to feel powerless

As I lose control

The ache in my heart

Reaches down to my soul

Words of encouragement

Fade away in my mind

I begin to forget

All those people so kind

As I hold in my hands

This sharp piece of steel

I care not about letting

My former wounds heal

The sharp edge of the blade

Penetrates my bare skin

My sadness released

And my anger and sin

I care not about safety

I care not about health

I care only for blood

And I have that in wealth

I look at my wrist

Stained red and swollen

From my torn open flesh

The devil has stolen

All sense of hope and worth

That I ever could find

He took it all out

Though I really don’t mind

My mind terrifies me so much.

I hate those

...little, shallow, disposable razor from the dollar store cuts people make. You know, those ones that only bleed a few little droplets. The ones that only take a week or so to heal. The ones that actually do look like cat scratches. It makes me so mad when I see those. It pisses me off so much that other young women and young men (and probably some not-so-young) are doing that to themselves. Don't they know what that leads to? Don't they know that their cuts are only going to become deeper and they're going to find out what's it's like fainting in a bathtub full of your own bloody water. Don't they know that they're going to form scars that won't ever heal. Don't they know they'll get trapped in awkward conversations starting with, "WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO YOUR ARM?" Don't they know that one day they'll cut too deep and next thing they know they'll wake up in a hospital. Don't they know that they're going to have to make up some bullshit lie to tell their children on why they're all scarred up. Don't they know how sick and stupid they are?!

Oh, but they just don't care.

I hate you, but I miss you.

and I don't understand why.

Do you ever have a "new" memory?

Like, all of a sudden you have this recollection that you've never had before. But it feels so real. Like of course that happened, but how come I never knew about it before? It's almost like someone is travelling back in time and changing the way things that happened and the memory is just kind of added. I don't know, I feel like I'm not explaining it well. It happens literally ALL the time to me, though. I don't even trust my own memory half the time anymore because I'm afraid it's just making things up and trying to trick me.

so much noise

I can't even hear my own voice anymore
And I can't even hear my own thoughts
The world that I've been away from for so long
Is so loud and I almost forgot

this is my fate

what if I had no peace and no freedom to die?

there is no justice in this.

If I were a painter

Even if you were to ask a painter, he would say
That people are more than just colors and shapes
But if I were I painter, I would know
Still that some people are just empty frames, without a soul

Words can't even describe how I feel.

It's like when I try to put my feelings into words the words just come back emptier than the feelings themselves.

The story goes as follows

When the climax rose
I fell
Expecting to be caught
Oh, how incredibly foolish of me