sti11dreaming

[sti11dreaming]

October 10 2019

“I thought I’d die if I ran like crazy. It left me breathless and it was painful but I didn’t die. People don’t die so easily.” - pieta in the toilet 

It seems like certain behaviors hold a monopoly over mental illness. If you don’t act in the way that mainstream media portrays anxiety, depression, or any other mental illness you’re not suffering, and therefore aren’t worthy enough to receive the support you so desperately need. In my experience, mental illness is supposed to be loud and obvious, not silent and deceiving. This creates a complex dilemma for someone like me. I’ve learned to cry in quiet corners, and hide anxiety behind delayed deadlines and minimal human contact. Some days, it takes me an extra 30 minutes to get out of bed, because my depression is telling me there’s no point in doing so. Other days, my anxiety tells me that if I get up I’m going to ruin some major aspect of my life anyway, so it’s safer to stay under the covers. When these two come together it feels like a brick trying to break its way through my chest.

I can recall a time when my grievances were easier to read from an outsider’s perspective.

I had endured similar conversations before, but it was in that moment where I learned my feelings could be interpreted as a nuisance or even a threat to those who were supposed to be helping me. If I wanted to be taken seriously, or have my feelings deemed valid, I’d have to fight like hell for it. Fifteen-year-old me didn’t have the energy for that. And sixteen-year-old me not only doesn’t have the time but is keenly aware that she shouldn’t have to fight for same basic human decency that is so easily given to other girls; girls who are viewed as more fragile, and more deserving of that extra care. Somehow their mental illness is more legitimate than mine because it can be heard from miles.

Mine is quieter and unsure of itself, not sure if what im going through is an actual affront to my health or if the problem is too much of an anomaly to garner attention, or worse, it could make people think i’ve fabricated the whole thing. That is why I tend to keep my feelings to myself now. I don’t want to go through the humiliation of justifying my emotions to someone again. Sometimes, I am okay with this. Considering that I feel ok being alone, and I usually prefer to be left alone.

Let's say that I know I am not a...easy person. Sometimes I don't talk for days, and when I talk it's just to argue over my existence and I don't care about anyone.I just want people to understand that I’m not a happy person. I’m sad most of the time. Sadly hopeful, sadly peaceful, sadly in love and sadly alive but I’m not really broken, yet. Sometimes I feel that I am damaged, but I really am not. I’ve recreated myself into this person, and I’m okay with what I see. Sometimes I see me when someone says something nice for something I wrote, or sometimes I see me when my mother is happy, or my brother talks with me, but I’ve never seen myself in anyone else’s eyes and feel like I’m going to be sadly okay for the rest of my life. That’s kind of what love is for me.

However, I still don’t believe my silence makes my mental illness any less severe than someone who’s more vocal about theirs.The other day my sister asked me why I always act so anxious. She said I need to stop. I wanted to tell her that it's not how it is. But I ended up crying silently because no one would believe the reasons why my brain starts shutting down all of sudden. It's a lengthy process. She maybe too thinks that I've been fabricating things all the way down there and maybe,I no longer want to fight against their words.But when it hurts ; I know it's real.

The way my depression manifests itself is the why I still check on my friends, even when it seems like they’re fine. Mental illness doesn’t look the same for everyone. You can’t always gauge how bad someone’s situation is by how angry or happy they “look.”Anxiety isn’t always someone shaking or not being able to breathe, and depression isn’t restricted to someone sobbing in the middle of the street. These things can look detached, it can be taking an hour or four to reply back to a text. I know I have trouble with asking for help, and that makes it difficult for the people who care about me to give me the support I need. They don't understand anyway. I’m trying really hard but I can’t pretend it doesn’t hurt when it really does.

I don’t like writing anymore. I’m tired. I have empathy for everyone but me.

Yet, I’m allowing myself to feel my sadness and anger. It’s supposed to heal me they said, I’ve never been in so much pain. My brain feels like it’s failing me. It doesn’t work. I wish people didn’t die. My mind is full of “I wish”s and “what if”s. That’s probably why I’m so anxious.

The past ten months have been rough. Of course I’m depressed , devastated and deranged .I’m still trying to figure out how everything went wrong so fast. I just sit in my room, and stare at the wall, and I can see myself getting worse day by day, and I’m just so freaking exhausted. I don’t even know if I'm breathing. I feel as if I'm lying under a trash pile. I am the garbage everyone wants out. Nothing is alright anymore.i feel so fucking alone and disgusting .It’s OK to be sad. But I can’t let go of the guilt I’ve attached to it. I fight with myself a lot. My life is going really well despite everything that’s happened. My depression is selfish. At least that’s what my brain is telling me. That’s what makes me so upset.

People tell me all of the time that suicide is a long term solution to a temporary problem. The only issue I have with this is that my mind isnt temporary.

I do not really know whether I have survived. My inner self has shut itself up more and more. As though to protect itself, it has become inaccessible to me.

Writing this is not as cathartic as I want it to be. After not being able to cope up with anything for months, you’d think I’d have something interesting to say. I can’t hear or see any of my accomplishments. Everything is really flat at the moment. I’m not miserable, but I don’t feel like I’m here in the world. is the world even for me? I ask this question every hour because I progressively feel less safe as each day passes .

I’ve been dealing with some really weird problem for almost three years now, and every time I tried to talk with my family they’d brush it off as an exaggeration. I never got to see a kind and competent person who took all of my complaints seriously and did everything in their power to figure out what the problem was. No one who quelled my fears and let me know that what I’m going through isn’t anywhere near fatal or serious, but I need to take better care of myself.That kept changing my attitude immensely towards my family increasing the distance , and I think I'm tired of being with them. I value human Human connection before anything. I don't care if it's the blood.

I've started feeling more claustrophobic than ever. At some point, I want to isolate myself from everyone.i want to run away from everything as my anxiety has never been extinguished, my mental health that's never been looked after. On top of that I'm already having some really odd symptoms, carrying around this fear of having some serious disappointment issues which was keeping from getting so much stuff done. I wish I could bring myself to happy.

I’ve been living in my own bubble for the past few weeks, trying as hard as I can to focus on my schoolwork because I’m constantly worrying that I won’t pass my exams. This worry intensified when I got my mock results and I got an F. I am still trying somehow.

When in actuality, I feel like I’m dying inside constantly and I only look serious because I don’t feel comfortable around most of my peers.They are always looking down on me for a certain reason.The girls who talk with me sometimes act like I'm an extra person who's ruining their mood at lunch time. I saw them making disgusting faces at my self harm scars . Probably thinking something embarrassing and unrelated to me. I told them it's cat scratches and laughed loudly. I was the only one laughing in the room.So I have decided to wander alone at the lunch hour. I feel like a fool.I sit in the back of the class. Mostly, alone. It has never been because I don't know what I'm doing. Even if that's true. It has never been cause I'm a bad student. Whether or not I am, it has only been cause I don't want to be seen. I don't want their glares to consume me. It's been already so much painful. I cry like rain in the spring so they evaporate into the sleepy mistake easily. That's why I'm in the back of the class, behind everyone cause every single task I try to do, every second of reading chemical revolution and for every math I should be solving faster; I'm sorry I'm struggling. I feel so much self pity at most of the point that I just want to end myself and end it all. I wish they could know that my favourite movie is Willy Wonka chocolate factory but they prejudge me so I guess they’ll continue to assume that I’m so serious that sometimes I feel like no one is real. Lately I've realized that it's always a better option, instead of telling someone how tragic I feel, I put in headphones and load myself with studies and try to keep away from crying. But that made me cry even more. I always had snitches and had a hard time trying to keep a secret that- I'm hurt, I'm depressed, so I read my global studies loud ; but in the end all I want to do is to burn this pages , take off this painting of pretending and tell every single person I met that, I am not alright.

Crying doesn't release the burden from my chest anymore. If I'm not hurting myself, I'm hurting everyone around me.

My face melts away a little more each time I pass a mirror. I’m scared of the day I’ll look at it and see nothing staring back. I’ve remembered how to cry again, but now I just do it because I’m scared. The scar on my left arm, a muffled chord progression, the bottle of antiseptic under my be - I know I didn’t make them up, I wouldn’t know how to. But they’re gone all the same and I don’t want my mind to paint itself a liar. It scares me every time I search the pages just to find new holes torn in them. If my mother didn’t say that, why do those words ache? If I’ve never heard that story, why do I know the ending? I’m trying to commit myself to memory before both my mind and body complete their vanishing act. I need to know that even if I forget a little more of myself every day, that someone will think of me. Tell me I’m funny, crazy, anything - have an opinion of me so I can cry a little bit every time about having succeeded in the act of being here. I’ve learned that you can’t disappear if people love you, so I’ll do anything for anyone. I break bits off of myself and give them to whoever needs me most. No matter how exhausting they are to take care of. People with rarity and broken hearts ; they can keep my memories far safer than anyone can.

I was in battle with my mind during all of my final exams. Sometimes, with a song that just wouldn’t get out of my head as I tried to focus on the VERY important task at hand. Other times, it was trying to stop the intrusive thoughts that screamed horrible things in my head. During my math final, I couldn’t figure out something very simple and my brain decided to remind me that these are the grades colleges look at. I started panicking about not getting into any college at all, which caused me to have to take a break to prevent myself from crying. Which caused me to have less time to finish the test. Which made me panic even more.

Finals week has pushed me to the absolute limit. I am not a test score, and from now on I’m not going to treat myself like one.

I hope one day I'll stop mourning about my past and myself.I hope I'll be able to let go the guilt of being a person no one wanted me to be. But does this make any sense yet?

My god, what an absolutely...shattering experience it’s been. It’s left me with such profoundly stupid questions like...who the fuck am I? Why does this hurt so much? How can I make it stop? And the best question of all, does it even fucking matter? ”

[sti11dreaming]

May 21 2017

After you die, it takes a long time for you to actually go. You are split, broken into the memories and emotions of everyone who ever knew who you were. To disappear after that, you need to be forgotten. Until then, you're trapped like an after-image in a mirror, reflected, reflected, reflected, until it's so hazy and minimised that you wonder if it ever really existed."

At some point, someone must have asked me if I wanted to become a ghost. All I remember from then is grinning and saying “Oh yes, tear me up. I am a pathetic loser”

I looked in the mirror as I cried. My soul was like one of those sliding picture puzzles, if there were like a million pieces and just one gap." I looked tired, like a completely different person from a year ago. My dry yet greasy skin gleamed dully in the yellow light. "I can see it, too," I closed my eyes and shook my head a little. My head vibrates high and is confused with the wind, sometimes does not know where it goes. sooner than later I found the way, and you, you always go for the same direction, always towards the self-destruction of your soul.

I was spending my days trying to lose my mind . They called me sane but I know I am anything, but to try to outrun myself is a competition but to try to run out on myself is self preservation . My instincts kick in at the sound of the doorbell .The monster never leaves though it is in a land far far away . the monster is here to stay. My mind was ill.

Everyone who contracted the illness had their face transform. The new face they shared with everyone else who that the same illness, like twins multiplied dozens of times. With glistening, reddened cheeks, they'd hold my throat and insist on who they are.

Then I remember smelling wood, like damp wood covered with moss and rainwater. My hair flying every which way from explosion shockwaves. The sounds of people imitating bird calls. Arms wide open, folding before I could reach them.

White contrails drew scratches across my arms. If I peered too closely in the mirror, I could see the sea waves in my eyeballs, reaching out for a moon that was lying. I made a dress out of acacia leaves, bristling like an indignant harpy.

Walls are just formalities when you’re a ghost. I knew what was happening beyond. I could just go there, but I didn’t. I’m considerate.

I picked up objects just to be reaffirmed that I can do something to them. I threw the books, the pens, the phone, the clothes, I toppled the plant in the pot, and I shrieked. You have an obligation to be scary when you’re a ghost. Do you know how long it would take you to float to the moon if you tried to? What sort of ghosts must haunt that place? I could go find out.

A trickle of honey so contaminated, it could barely be called honey anymore. The click of a cartridge slotting into a game console. Corridor after corridor made of words. The brush of knuckles across my cheek.

And it was done. A ghost was made.

“Well, okay,” I said, to no one.

"After Death" Dean Koontz

Paris texas(1984)

[sti11dreaming]

Here today, Gone tomorrow

This year is ending and I want to tell myself that I've achieved enough and I didn't give myself enough credit. I made too much noise when I could've just left without a notice. I still wake up and live someone else's dream. I am deeply unhappy but that doesn't mean I'm ungrateful. I'm angry and resentment eats me alive at night. I can't sleep. I oversleep. I am living and breaking my own promises. I try to do my best. I haven't been trying at all lately. I want to change myself and look unrecognizable. I want to kill myself but I don't want to leave. I want to look pretty. I feel rotten. I want to go away. I want people to mourn me. I want people to leave me tons of flowers in my grave. I want a hibiscus tree planted over my dead body. I'll give it my everything. Lately I don't feel like being anymore. My dreams are mine anyway;dead or alive.

[sti11dreaming]

"Can we cry as much as we would want to cry? Can we live remembering everything we would want to remember?"

I haven't been writing anything lately. I've been thinking and crying a lot these days. I've been escaping a lot. I still have no one to tell. I will never have no one to tell. There are some sorrows I can only bury within myself. It's tiring. All these years I only wanted to be somewhere else. Sometimes I wanted to be nowhere. I was dying to be seen. I am not who I want to be. I still want to be somewhere else but can I ?

I've been tangling myself up in questions and I've no way out. I can't move. "I just have to persist", I tell myself. It's not a competition. Let it take time but is it worth waiting for this time? Can someone guarantee I won't fall on my face once again and it'll take me years to get on my knees and I'll eventually die trying to find my pace ? Nobody can. But I can. And I'll tell myself I should run and hide. At the end of the day , I'd either end up becoming an unhappy extraordinary people pleaser or a disassociated happy being. I keep coming back to this question. I draw circles after circles and end up sitting in the center of it all. I am left with nothing. I can only dream of being loved but I don't have the courage to be a lover. I don't want to be saved I don't want to be taken care of. There it is- the answer.

[sti11dreaming]

Today I added whipped cream to my coffee for the first time in my life and I'm not feeling suicidal after so long (at least for now) .I also turned 20 yesterday and I feel awful. There's so many things I want to do but I end up not doing anything.I can't stop thinking about missing out on so many events.It pains me to think about how I spent my last 6 birthdays regretting and promising myself this would be the last one. These days I'm walking on the finest line between hopeless and hopeful. It's very complex.I keep walking in circles in my room thinking it'd take my thoughts away but I keep walking and walking and walking.Last month I was so excited that I am finally going to end everythingAnd I didn't have any fear or guilt, for once. But today I changed my mind. I still feel terrible.Recently some things have been working out for me.It surprises me how little things make so much difference in my life and how it can also throw me back at the pitfall in split seconds.This year I had a few major shifts in my life too. Everything is very vague and blended altogether. I want to be away from who I am and where I am right now.My simple defense is that ' it's not your life and I'll not take your advice '. I might be very stupid and wrong but I constantly feel as if I'm being eaten alive-out of concern.I don't want to be saved. I think they don't understand me because they never see the world from my eyes. If they knew that they were supposed to leave the world next Monday at 3pm they probably wouldn't want to do all the things they want me to do now. If they knew me well they'd probably act differently. I can only dream. I feel very suffocated , invisible,small and pathetic. I am so tired. I think I am a coward for not having enough courage to kill myself. I saw a quote and it said,imagination is more powerful than knowledge. I've been thinking about it lately. I need to get some things done I need to do so much inner work but I can't move my body. It's so morbid I wish I could get the help I need. I wasn't like this before. I didn't notice when and how i became so weary and dull.

I have cast on a new sweater. I've pretty much failed as a knitter. I lost my beginner spirit but at least I didn't give up. Here's a little something to be happy about. Everyone starts somewhere, everyone makes mistakes. It's alright.

[sti11dreaming]

Sometimes when I cry I start gasping for air and I can't talk and i hate it so much. Today I've made up my mind that I am going to commit suicide. Not the first time in my life I've made that decision but I'll stick to my decision this time- like a brave girl. It feels very blurry right now. I don't know how I'll manage the money to buy a rope, how to tie a noose,when I'll do it etc. I haven't picked up a date yet. I'll try to start living with this decision for a few days and soon I'll be gone. It'll end. I don't care about the time line or the autopsy anymore. I'm not going to change my mind. I've realized that I've lost the meaning of everything. I am very tired and I can't wait for it to end. I can't speak or think or write. I keep forgetting things and I keep seeing signs. In the coming week I'll kill the hope too.. that's the first thing to do. I've a little bit of it left in me.

I confess that I have big aspirations. However, If someone asks me what are your aspirations? I won't be able to answer. Because my head is unable to form words and my voice is inaudible. I don't want to die but I'm afraid of living. I'm so terrified by the thought of spending another day alive.

[sti11dreaming]

airplanes flying late at night fills me up with motionless void and I lose all my hope and momentum to the sound of it. I send prayers for everyone but me. I forgot how to pray for myself. It's because I no longer have the urge to live. I look forward to nothing. I missed too many sunrise and sunset. I wish I could give my life away to someone who's dying to live. My mind ,body and heart is chronically fatigued and bruised from getting knocked down and getting back up again breaking every bone yet never healing ; trying again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again

[sti11dreaming]

My Life Feels Empty And I Am Embarrassed about it.

I had an awful day. Seeing old friends doing well in their life while my anticipation for a better day kills me everyday is painful. I am happy for them and I'm very angry at myself for everything. I want to go somewhere far far away and be on my own. I don't want to be seen. I know exactly where I want to be but I think it'll take time and I'm tired of waiting. I want to be worthy. I want to wear clothes that reflect my personality, I want to fix my hair, I want to be loved, I want to be celebrated on my birthday, I want to look pretty, I want to love someone, I don't want to hide,I want to be a cherished memory in someone's mind, I want to be creative. I want to create, I want to be seen but it's hard to tell people that I want to be seen. please love me for a minute please tell me I'm worthy of something. These days I find myself choking for reassurance. Why did I desire simple things if they aren't meant for me ? Can things get magically fixed in 4 months? Should I wait or should I hang myself? This afternoon I told myself I am ready to embrace the coming heartaches and failures since I am going to leave soon anyway. But isn't it so ugly to die a failure? Then what's the point of taking your own life anyway? I'm not a person to be remembered. I never took that much space in anyone's heart. I might be very selfish I might be impatient but my truth is I'm suffering for so long and I can explain why I want to leave this place forever but my truth is not necessarily the correct answer. I know it isn't. However I believe my feelings are valid. When I die I hope people will remember me as someone who's silly, kind and loving. I have been a kind person, hopefully.