Jumbled Thoughts

I stare at the screen wondering what to write. A lot I have written has been raw and painful, but real. I never really have an initial direction for my pieces. All of this is just to find some sort of silence within me. The chaos I am surrounded by has been all-consuming and endless. Even in the nights that are supposed to be quiet, I greet the horrible thoughts like an old friend.

"You'll never be enough for this job." "Just quit before you lose the one person in your corner." "No one will save you, no one will care about you, and no one will miss you when you're gone."

That's when the spiraling begins. That's when I lose myself. I have lost who I am to the demons. Don't worry though, I flush them down the toilet, so they don't linger to feed off of others.

The fighting has never been easy. I didn't think I would still be fighting the same war within myself. Survival. I am fighting to survive the war inside my mind. Anyone who has ever had to feel this, battle this, and survived this, knows that there is an ugly side to war. There are no heroes in war. Ever.

The ugliest side is the depression room, the days without showers, the days without brushing my hair, the mold growing in the dishes I still haven't done, and the endless tears I have shed that are embedded within my pillows. It's not a fun time to be mentally ill. It's a sickness that can only be cured with the will to live...but that's always out of stock.

I'm trying my best. I know it looks like I have given up and won't help myself. I ask you, if you were ridiculed for the fact you exist, even though you haven't hurt anyone, would you be okay? Would you want to be part of society? Would you feel safe?

I am drowning in my suffering. I have asked, begged, pleaded for help and yet, I am blamed for a situation I never caused. Did I deserve this? Did I really hurt people just by existing? I have thought and reanalyzed every possible outcome and somehow, I end up at the same place of feeling not enough.

Not good enough, not smart enough, not pretty enough, and not human enough.

I don't know how to change myself or mold myself to the ideal person without wanting to just become a shell. I don't know how to get out of the all-consuming hole that is my mental health. I don't know what's going to happen to me when I don't have anyone in my corner anymore. I am scared. Terrified.

And I am alone.

I don't want to be alone anymore.