The Deep, Dark, Truth.

No, this isn't fiction. Yes, it's about me and every word is true. The night is dark, but my thoughts are darker, and a lot of them are going to be shared here. I have mental health issues, but nothing diagnoseable and sometimes these can be the scariest mental 'illnesses'. Read on, please. X If you have any questions, as me, please. I'll answer them.

Chapter 2

Explanations


So I thoughts I should explain in further detail all of my comments relating to quotes from the previous chapter. It might be triggering but I don't want to affect anybodies mental health by them reading it.


I mentioned that when I was younger I was so bubbly and so happy but I guess as a younger child I was so naive. Life seems so easy at that point because everything is done for you, all you have to do is play with toys, go to school depending on your age. The biggest problem is often falling out with friends and at the age, everything is forgotten by the next day - but, as life progresses, more problems, become apparent. When you realize reality, and the problem, things can often fall apart. They did for me. Now I can't remember how I used to feel before I realized what life was really like, the innocence and naivety of the past. This past is out of your reach so you can feel stuck. This is how I feel. I have felt desperate to open about my emotions but it felt too scary to face. The thoughts in my head were so dark I didn't know how to say them so I chose not to. I help them in and no matter how much I wanted to tell people I didn't. It was just easier. When I finally did, I regretted it so much because I was called an attention seeker. That's just harsh because this person had no idea how I felt. How I was breaking inside. Yet she chose to have an offensive opinion that made things 10x worse. Who was this person? It was my mum, my own flesh and blood. Like, I’m sorry Mum but you have a suicidal daughter, I’ll hide it as much as I can.

When I have felt this depressed, in a sense I choose to think negatively. I could try to think about dolphins, koalas and unicorns (no, I don't believe in unicorns) but the depression controls your thoughts into thinking negatively to the point you give up having the choice to try to be optimistic. Depression places thoughts in your head such as 'I hate myself' and 'you're a failure'. These thoughts then force you into doing something you might regret; they force your hand upon a blade, or worse. I've been there, both place, and it isn't a nice place to be. What I guess I'm saying is, I have self-harmed. I have attempted suicide. Depression caused it and depression is a killer. With depression, you’re already killing yourself by living. Every thought is a battle and each breathe is a war, in the end you lose and become a lost walking body. The next step just seems to be your body to die alongside your soul.


I get asked how I am regularly as part of daily life and whenever I go to my therapy sessions I get asked how I am : at therapy they have to I guess, it’s routine. Sure, it sounds like a simple question but the unfortunate thing is: there is no simple answer. Whenever I feel really down, rubbish or as if I’m about to cry – I still say that I am fine because it is so much easier. It’s easier than trying to explain how I feel when there are no words to describe it. It’s easier than being asked why I feel that way. It’s just easier and I’m too tired to try the hard ways. But it’s also a habit, fine just comes out of my mouth before I can even think about it anymore. I said that I have to be asked how I am at therapy and that it’s routine but it also feels like a test or them asking me whether I am over my ‘phase’. Note; speech marks. It feels like they are thinking, sure, she says she is okay, we just need to be sure that we can chuck her off back into her life thinking that we have ‘cured her’ when in fact, we have just made everything worse. Idgaf about her. This IS how it feels to me, and yeah, it’s depressing stuff but it’s true. The truth mainly is depressing. And the truth is, I’m such a failure, I can’t even die properly. When I got out of the psychiatric hospital I’d been in for a couple of weeks, (it’s not as bad as it sounds, I will explain later) I thought things were going to go up at last. I felt free, and almost as if I’d got over the worst of my depression. But then it silently returned and my mood has started to drop, all I need to do is wait for my rock bottom, again.


I’ve been stabbed in the back by my own mother, by my own friends and it hurts, it really hurts. For your own blood to betray you is painful and for friends to stab you in the back and to leave you when you need them the most – that hurts as well. I have had my heartbroken by people closest to me, well, a person closest to me. My heart got broken by my straight best friend, she’s female, and I’m female. I think she knew I liked her, I stopped hiding it after a while but no-one openly said it. I’m going to tell her properly soon, and end our friendship. The only reason why I haven’t openly said it and ended our friendship yet is because I’ve been waiting for the impossible to happen and her to miraculously like girls too and fall for me. Yeah, never fall for your straight bestfriend. It really ain’t good.


I have had my life ruined by the above things and more. A little note however to my parents who will never see this, you knew what you were droning when I broke down. You knew it was wrong. You didn’t care so don’t you dare start caring now. Why do I hate you? You ask yourself that.


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