July 16th, 2020:
To be honest, I really do not know why I came back to this site.
Or at least, that is a lie that I keep repeating back to myself: that I keep coming back, not on my own accord, but tugged back by some mysterious force. But to be entirely real, I know exactly why I came back: because I am hurt, because I am broken, because I am falling apart and have nothing else to hold me together.
I miss the people that I used to know on here, and it is wishful thinking to hope that one day I will see their faces again. But in the darkest moments of the night, we hold onto our memory of the light, to give ourselves hope that the sun will rise again.
I have zero understanding of why I am hurting so bad, and that is what hurts the most. Well, besides the fact that within my own mind, I am constantly tearing myself apart for the sake of perfection. Disassembling each and every action, word, thought, movement, gesture, emotion, tearing apart the cogs and gears that turn the wheels inside this machine, for the sole reason that they are never good enough for some impossible, godly standard that I hold myself captive to.
My thoughts are so scattered, my mind is so completely shattered, all the glue in the world would not be enough to piece me back together.
July 19th, 2020:
My mind keeps circling back to when I first wanted to end my life at the age of nine or ten. I suppose that is a blessing that I am still here, but on some days, especially days like these, when every move feels like a pointless expense of energy, where I have cried what little tears I have left to spare, when the only warmth I feel comes from the inanimate folds of my bed, finding the hope, the strength, the desire to continue feels like an impossible task.
It is quite the conundrum, really, how I cry out for my pain to be seen, to have my pleas for help heard, yet ceaselessly bury all the hurt beneath a mountain of "I'm okays" or "I'm doing alrights,' a self-destructive exercise of covering up bullet holes of sadness with bandaids of false joy. I'm too good at it, really. Or, I'm just too scared of vulnerability, to expose the weaknesses of my soul to the eyes of the world.
At this point, the pain, the sadness, the hurt are all fading quickly away, as the night melts into the colorless gray at the fiery light of dawn. Back into the numbness I shall recede, with the waves of my oceans of my sorrows just a distant echo that easily passes away.
July 22nd, 2020:
I wish I understood my mind and it's frailties. At times, I glimpse a fractured reason as to why I am in pain, but when I try to step back and see the picture entirely, I find that I hit a wall that hinders any backward movement. Is it that complicated? I do not think so.
I feel so fragmented right now: my thoughts are hardly mine, and I can barely piece them together. I am grasping for any last shred of sense that I can.
I am bitter. I am the cold. I am biting, fierce and angry. Most of all, I am hurt—but I do not know how deep the wounds go.
In the end though, I am just vile, disgusting, and pathetic.
September 20th, 2020:
Well. It's been a while, because things have been good for a while. I felt alive. I felt whole. I felt that I could live again. I think that still holds true now. I've made solid progress, gotten better. Yet I feel broken, incomplete, still. It's not that I can't be happy, or that I'm sad, but I seem to occupy some ill-defined space between the two: too happy to be sad, but yet sad enough to not be happy.
I feel so stupidly selfish, for wanting someone to care, for wanting the one to care. Some days, I just feel doomed to be imprisoned for the rest eternity, because no matter how far I run, I still can't escape. In some ways, life is still the same: friends have left as always, and school and other responsibilities are a burden.
No matter how much I try to dissect how I feel, to analyze every shred of my thoughts, I still feel empty and apathetic and indifferent in the end.
I'm tired of forcing myself into boxes. But how am I to know who I am?
I'm making no sense.
My brain needs to stop. I need to stop. I don't know where I'm going. I don't know where I'm headed, in the dark.