Does This Mean I'm Crazy?

Before you start reading this, I'm going to warn you. This passage is dark and I'm not sure if you'll like it. I needed to share it though. It's something I struggle with every day and while it's probably not the healthiest thing, I've learned to live with it. Now I'm here to share my feelings with you, but if you feel uncomfortable reading about self mutilation or about the mind of a crazy person, I'd suggest you go find something more light-hearted.

I'll regret this. I know I will. I need to say it, though. I can't deal with my problems without putting them out into the world first. Weird, I know. It's just my way of dealing with things though.

See, I have thoughts spirals. Allow me to explain.

Everyone has intrusive thoughts. You're standing on a bridge and you just suddenly think "I could just JUMP off this right now if I wanted to." Most people just dismiss the thought and go on about their day. For me, the thought consumes me and I get lost in it until I follow through with it or get out of the situation.

Sometimes in the mornings I get up, use the bathroom, glance at myself in the mirror, and hate my reflection. I hate what I see. I hate it so much. I have this urge to just claw my eyes out so I don't have to look at myself anymore. This thought engulfs me and becomes my only. I fall into a spiral. It's like a funnel. It gets smaller and smaller the farther down I go and I can't get out of it because I'm a liquid and that's not how liquid works. The spiral stops and the funnel lets me out once I give in.

Now luckily I haven't clawed my eyes out yet. I want to though, and this thought is only getting worse every morning. I do makeup (gore art or pretty makeup, it doesn't really matter), and it calms me down and I can breathe again.

I wish I could though. It seems like instead of going away now, I've been going down this spiral for days. It's getting tighter and tighter and my thoughts are getting louder and louder and I want to just give in. I want to mutilate myself. I want to cut chunks of flesh off my face and watch the blood pour out. I want to claw my eyes out so I don't have to see myself. I want to cut off my tongue so I'm never expected to talk again. I feel like I deserve the pain. I deserve it all.

Plus I don't want to be pretty anymore. When I walk around guys stare at me. It pisses me off. If I was ugly, if I was missing chunks of flesh all over my body, if there were scars and bruises and wounds all over, people wouldn't want to look at me and I'd get the peace and quiet I've always wanted.

People are always calling me crazy anyways. They see my makeup. They see my torn-up clothes. They see the things I write and they call me crazy. So if they want crazy they can have it. They haven't seen it all, they certainly haven't seen what I'm typing right now.

And am I REALLY crazy? People say I am but this world is so deranged that aren't the people who go along with this madness the genuinely crazy ones? I'm calling it like it is while others are conforming to society's crazy expectations. At least I'm not a pussy, anyways.