#the cruel thing about dialects is I can understand it but I cant speak it lolol

[squiggle-bat]

Euthanize me.

People always think I'm this way or that way but it's just not like that and they never seem to understand.

I am a child speaking to adults in a dialect that has never been spoken before and all they are helpless to understand it. I am helpless to explain it.

Theres desperation, and panic, and heartbreaking hopelessness as you beg and plead and you know they can hear you but they cant hear you.

It's like being buried alive. Locked in a box with no one but yourself and you can scream and shout and cry all you want but in the end you are still trapped and dying, watching each and every moment tick by in agonizing despair as you wait, hoping that maybe, possibly, someone will think to dig you up, pry out the nails, and give you the comfort you've been wanting.

This is what its like to be insane.

And to top it all off, there's no fixing it. You can take the medications and talk to the professionals and follow all the steps and guidelines and self help tips but... in the end none of it will change anything.

The pills get addictive, the professionals get repetitive, and the self help is all bull. You are stuck as the shattered broken mind, trapped in the ground, shouting in a language no one can speak. And while you may not be able to fix yourself you know what? You can break yourself even more hella easy.

Ten years of struggle cant change a damn thing, but give in just one time... abuse the prescription, or throw the fit, or trust someone with your heart just one time and you won't ever be able to come back from it.

I can feel the difference in myself after that stupid overdose.

I can feel the difference in my dependence the longer I stay living in this room like this.

I can feel myself getting more and more unstable and I'm trapped here watching it because I have nothing else to focus on except myself...

"You need to focus on yourself and better yourself"

"You need to fond your self esteem and look inside yourself for who you are"

"Self reflection is the best way to get better"

BULL SHIT.

Every scar and cut and burn and memory is an instrument of pain and destruction hurtled at full force towards the shambling husk of reasonable thought.

Every thought about myself is another hole in a bag that's already leaking too fast.

I don't want to be. I don't want to be. I don't want to be. I don't want to be. I don't want to be...

I pity myself. My future self. She is stuck on an inevitable path of self destruction and misery that will end in a very bad way and I pity them for the hell they're going to go through. I don't wish insanity on anyone. This constant conflict of emotions, the rapid thoughts, the impulses, the regret...

There are so many movies and games and books about asylums and mental hospitals... they're creepy and abandoned and everyone is scared of the crazy murderer right? That is the nearsightedness of ignorance. That poor man is the victim who has suffered the most. Death is swift and happens in moments. That poor man has been in absolute hell for days or months or years...

Damn all of you who believe life is precious and sacred or what the fuck ever.

Life is cruel and vile and will chew you up in a heartbeat if it could.

Some of us never even stood a chance against it... we were slapped to the ground and made to struggle since the beginning and while we beg for mercy we cry and plead only to be told "no it gets better" or "no, people love you". This isn't love. When an animal is suffering you put it down. When every day makes you cry and whimper and prey that it gets better, you put it down.

This is not love. This is the greatest failure of the heart. The complete and utter misconception that just because you can stand something we all can. The belief that making it through a day means it was a good day. Happiness is a kindness ill afforded to those like me, and no one seems to understand that pain...