I know better.
I should never let it have happen.
Now I'm going to suffer for it.
There isn't anything worse than hope and don't you let anyone try to tell you otherwise.
Hoping for something better than you have; something more.
The strength to grind your demons into sparkly dust or maybe just enough courage to get through the day.
Well eventually the days get longer and the hours stretch into the wastelands you will perish in.
Your flesh is going to slough off your bones and the very essence of your being will be reduced to petrified goop.
I'd take nothing over this.
Apathy is beyond blissful after you've experienced the agony of your own mental atrophy.
Pitiful though isn't it?
To have actually gone so far only to slit your throat at the finish line; the fear of failing so overbearing that it crushes your very last hope of getting there.
Of getting better.
I was hoping I could recover even if it was half-hearted and for the sake of others.
It was an idiotic feat and I was foolish for ever believing it would work.
I have only succeeded in sabotaging my every attempt to feel even remotely okay.
Enough.
I am done and to be quite honest I don't think I can do it anymore.

Inhale to the top of my lungs, I'll be dying for this

My entire life I have been filing all the things I want out of life into little boxes and putting them on a shelf for later.
But later never comes.
All of the things I have every wished for or dreamed of withered away with my ability to function.
And for what?
So I can hide in my own self loathing and pretend I'm living a life I actually like?
I hate it.
I hate every aspect of my not-really life.
Hiding that's what I'm doing.
I shut myself away in these four walls and tell myself it's normal.
Normal to fear relationships and people.
It is 100% normal in my world to cower from expectations and responsibilities.
And you know what?
That's totally fucked up.
I have a panic attack and then give up on whatever it is that scares me.
I'm not going to recover anytime soon because I'm not ready.
But telling myself that the day will never come is a stupid pointless lie.
I have hopes and dreams and I won't abandon them in favor of a life viewed through a computer monitor.

I just finished a 75 minute work out and now I'm going to shower and make myself a cup of coffee.
I'm going to then go on an hour long walk and smoke my cigarettes.
I won't quit making bad decisions today or maybe even tomorrow.
It might take fifteen years for me to get truly better.
But it won't be because I'm running or hiding.
I just want to savor the feeling for a little while longer.

Love of mine some day you will die

I was outside smoking a cigarette and I thought that maybe death isn't such a scary thing.
The wind is really bad tonight and the trees looked like they could topple over at any second.
Storms never usually scare me but if any of them would this one would be it.
I kept thinking that it should scare me but for once I wasn't scared.
My whole life revolves around my fears.
I can't even go to school because I'm so terrified of people.
I can never be truly intimate with someone I love because I'm afraid of being hurt.
I hurt myself because I'm afraid I'll hurt others.
My future is looming over my head like a sword and it petrifies me.
Recovery is impossible for me because I'm afraid of not being sick.
I can't even feel my own heart beating because I'm so scared of being alive.
Death has always been a frightening concept for me.
Anything that is inevitable and unknown sends me into a panic.
I'm so terrified of everything happening around me that I shut myself into different books or movies and pretend that I don't really exist.
But for this one moment when the world looked like it was falling down around me and I should be crippled with fear I wasn't.
Dying isn't scary anymore.

I'm never going to be strong enough to recover from the things I put myself through.

I need everyone in my life way more than they need me.
I just feel like all the crumpled up cigarette filters that are piling up in the storm drains.
I get to experience the feel of a million beautiful lips but in the end it doesn't matter.
I wind up tossed away to rot on the side of a road collecting the dirt from everyone's abused footwear.
I'm not okay.
I'm not fine with any of the things going on in my life but I don't have the courage to change it.

Helpless

I feel like I'm just remembering a place I've never been.
Everything is wonderful and painful.
It's like the rush of adrenaline that pulls at your seams after you've torn holes in your paper heart.
Nothing here makes any sense.
There is an odd feeling of nostalgia accompanying the excitement of experiencing something new.
But none of this is new and the memories of it don't bring comfort but searing agony.
My head is confusing sadness for love and exhaustion as happy.
Up is across and down is diagonal and side ways is parallel.
All of my angles have rearranged and my head hurts trying to figure out how any of this could be possible.
How did it get like this?
When did my life crumble to metallic dust and why did I never notice it before?
I get so lonely and my head feels too big but entirely too minuscule.
It all hurts so much and I don't know how to think or feel or who the fuck I am anymore.
I feel so tired.
I don't know what to do and I fear that I'm getting too close to the edge of my world.
Too close to nothing and it's going to swallow me alive.
It's all so terrifying but relieving and I don't know how that is.
I am so lonely.

I'm really tired of myself.
I feel really cliche in all the worst ways.
I don't really remember ever liking who I am so that's not the issue really.
It's just gotten so hard to ignore the things I'm doing.
I've been teetering on a weird dotted line I had never noticed before.
I've actually considered getting better.
I'm not talking about the pathetic attempts at recovery I've tried because thinking that you can be healthy and starve and binge and purge and cut yourself is not rational.
I've thought about throwing it all away.
Sinking back into myself the way I had before I met Lukas.
I thought about dying in comparison to actually living.
I don't know which i want but this limbo of not dead but not alive is getting so tiring.
It's exhausting killing myself to no avail.
Starving for no results and slitting my own throat only to realize that my blade is plastic.
I am tired.
I don't know how to decide if I want to die or live.