The thoughts are back again. The dark thoughts. The thoughts that always seem to be able to take control of me so easily.
I try and fight them. Believe me, I try. Yet here I am again, feeling like I am worthless, feeling like I am nothing. And, even though my heart is beating and I am alive, I feel dead inside.
My brain kicks into overdrive, telling me I am a disaster. A broken mess that nobody can ever really want to love. I am ashamed of my past once again, ashamed of me. I have suddenly become replaceable as I begin to apologise for even existing.
People see my outside. They see my shell. They see my fake smile that I wear so well.
They don’t see how I hate the way I look. They don’t see how I hate that I am not smart enough or brave enough. They don’t see how I feel disgusting, ashamed and used. They don’t see that I hate how I cannot trust anyone or hate that I care too much and let things get to me.
They just see me smiling. See me breathing. But just because I am breathing, doesn’t mean I am alive.
Those closest to me know to look deeper. To look into my eyes. That is where they find the real me.
The scared me. The broken me. The shattered mess who has been hurt so many times that I can finally say I am used to it.
I start to lose myself once more into the depths of depression. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to feel. I don’t know who I am. I begin to wonder if anyone cares enough to come and find me in the darkness. But they must not get too close, for it is so dark inside, they may not like what they see.
Slowly I begin to feel disconnected from the world, as if I am walking down a long, cold, empty road to nothing. I am surrounded by a fog of dissociation, tired and drained from crying, pained and scarred from cutting. My shell is smiling but inside I’m dying. Not necessarily always sad…just empty.
I am falling, I am crashing, I am numb. I begin to shut down again. Telling myself I deserve only bad things, I push those closest to me away. I tell myself nobody really cares, even though I know some do.
The darkness, the thoughts, the demons, they make me build my walls so high, telling me that no one will be there to break them down. What is the point in fighting, in surviving, if no one is willing to fight for me?
It is a hard thing, continuing to live, when all the voices in your head are telling you to die.
Loneliness is the worst feeling in the world. But it is even worse when you are alone with dark thoughts in your head. I want to scream, I want to shout the pain away, I want to cry, but instead I will whisper an “I’m fine” and continue to wear my smile. Faking a smile is so much easier than trying to explain what is going on inside my head.
I am falling, I am crashing, I am numb. Waves of depression and anxiety begin to take control once more. Yet again, I am drowning in my thoughts. The memories and nightmares have learnt how to swim. They surface one by one, pushing me further down as they do. I am flailing, reaching for anyone who is brave enough to come and save me.
I am drowning. I am breaking. I have fallen.
The darkness has its arms wrapped around me all over again, gripping tighter than before. But it forgets one thing; no matter how many times I fall, I always get back up.
I will find the light. Somehow I will get back up and I will let my walls back down. For I am proud of my heart. It has been beaten, stabbed, stamped on, broken and shattered but somehow it still beats. It still works. It still loves. It still cares. It still fights.
I am a diamond. A shiny piece of coal trying to reach my goal. The more a diamond gets cut the brighter its sparkle becomes. I will get scratched, but my sparkle won’t shine any less.
Sometimes rough diamonds may be mistaken for worthless pebbles.
I will fight. I will become the voice that survivors need.
I will shine again. I will find the light within the dark.
Thanks for reading
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