Crossing a Line to the Other Side of My Mind

(trigger warning: self-harm)

My heart is pounding. I can’t slow it down. I can barely breathe. My head is reeling.

I’m at war with myself. Yes, you all know this. I minimize it though, so I don’t worry you. I don’t want or need your pity. I know I have the strength in me to prevail.

But sometimes when you’re staring down the metaphorical barrel of a gun, you can’t help but wonder if this is all there is to life. Suddenly everything is numb. Suddenly the world around you disappears. The void you’ve tried filling refuses to acknowledge your progress. But still you shake off the swirling feelings of impending doom as best as you can. You stare down at those pills in your hand, ready to swallow them whole and go about your day.

But this little idea has been planted in your mind, out of nowhere. You somehow find a razor blade in your hand. You don’t even know why. But you’re so numb and so unaware and bored and restless that nothing really matters. You’re not trying to even hurt. You just want to do it for the sake of doing it. So you gently run the blaze over your skin. Little beads of blood begin to seep out. You feel nothing except a little sting. You are unfazed. You do it again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again.

Have you no shame for yourself? Why do you do this to yourself? You’re so much better than that, aren’t you? Maybe not. Maybe this is just the way it has to be at times. I still accept you because there is no other way around you, for I am you.

I love and then I hate. I’m alive and then I’m dead. I’m happy and then I’m depressed. There is no in-between for me.

I’m filled with hate and silent rage right now. I want to destroy everything in my way, but I can’t. This cracked self-control I struggle to possess is just enough to keep me from unleashing myself onto the world. So I unleash it on myself instead. Internally and externally.

It’s hard to focus in these red-stained moments. I’m trapped in the mood, unable to feel reason or logic because this feels like forever. I don’t remember feeling anything else other than indignation currently. It feels like I’ve been angry my whole life. Maybe I have. I don’t really know. It feels so unfair, and I feel like a teenager who wants to rebel against society. I feel alone. I want to be alone. But I don’t. I want to be saved. But I can’t be. I can’t be saved. Nobody can save me. I can barely save myself. This feeling feels like it’s been here for an eternity. How do I shut it off? I’ve been inside this millions of times, and it doesn’t always get easier.

I feel defeated, and there’s not a single person I can tell. I can’t recover right now. I’m on the ground staring straight up into the hole I fell into. I don’t have the strength to get up right now. There’s no one around to pick me up. It’s okay. Maybe this is just how it’s meant to be right now.

Perhaps silent suffering is living within us always, it just has a tendency to find others quicker and holds on for dear life, like a leech.

I don’t want to give up, but I just don’t have it in me to drag myself into the light. Maybe I just need to rest. The stress, anxiety and paranoia have been eating me alive more than usual lately. I haven’t slept well. I wake up throughout the night in a cold sweat. I’m trying to see the lesson, but it’s so heavy that I can’t see what’s weighing me down from another perspective. I’m trying to be strong. Please believe me.

The agony just repeats over and over, this broken record is stuck to the needle. I can’t help but not care at times. The cold stillness in me resides in my veins. I don’t want it there, but it’s comfortable. It’s the way I get by. The strength I’m fighting for slips away.

The razor blade looks apathetically at me as I stare down at it. I don’t want to give in.

But sometimes we just lose.



I’m sorry.






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These are the musings of a 32 y/o dreamer, wisher and doer. All my posts are authentic; I write what's in my heart.

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