Somehow, I'm still alive. And life is killing me more each day.
Every moment I get more desperate for relief, for a release. I sink deeper into myself, afraid to speak my mind. I am the strong one. I hold on and keep everyone around me happy. I try every day to take my time alone to be sad, to sob and scream inside and push back the wave of pain I wake up to.
I find myself homeless, again. I was living out of my car, (finally, MY FIRST CAR!!!) until it broke down in 3 different ways, transmission, engine block, and emissions computer, if anybody knows what that means...basically all of it died at once 3 hours from home at a weekend camping rave festival and I had to abandon it. One month of owning a vehicle in my life and it just ended, I'm still a bit heartbroken over it. Since then my new boyfriend (Mike) and I have been staying with friends in his hometown (his "stomping ground" he calls it, :D ), about half an hour away from my life-long beloved hometown. Despite the expensive apartments, snobby rich college students, and my over-worried parents, I miss the hell out of it. Everything familiar in my life is gone. My big brothers who watched my ass through the days and nights I spent homeless and retarded on my first months of alcohol and substances...they've moved on. Maybe I never meant that much to anyone at home in the first place. Amy demonstrated how empty Sterling leaves you when she killed herself in June. Amy the curly haired tiny skinny girl who everyone loved and hated for being so pretty and sweet. And she was miserable. Who knew?
Then again...who could see it coming if I decide to kill myself randomly? I can't stop thinking about it. I know I won't do it, I can't leave Mike. He's such a good hearted soul, just doesn't know what he wants out of life most of the time. Sometimes I feel like he doesn't know if he wants me or not. He loves me because I love him. And I do, so fucking much. I see him all the way to his beautiful heart. And it is so. beautiful. But he doesn't see it, and I can see the pain from his past and our current situation clouding his eyes. Blinding him to anything that could be good, blinding him to me. I try to cheer him up, but my heart is so heavy I can only help so much. It makes me feel useless. I've been through these feelings before. I've longed for death and my own destruction out of pure hopelessness and I'm beyond that now...right?
I cry to get rid of pain. I try to expell the depression like a bad disease. I don't want it, I have no desire to lay in it and enjoy giving up like I used to. Suicide attempts are no longer my hobby. I keep a package of razors in my backpack for lines and haven't touched my skin with them once. I'm doing well, I'm getting better....
I'm just tired of looking at lakes as a comfortable dark place to jump into and sleep forever. I'm tired of leaning over balconies and musing over how easy it would be to pick up my feet and fly headlong over the edge. I guess you could say I'm addicted to suicide. And I'm sick of it. I don't want to leave my beautiful soul of a boyfriend behind. I don't think he would survive it.
I just have to hold onto the little things that make life beautiful. Those small things like butterflies, rainbows, sunshine, lone little weed flowers, a kiss from my love, a full moon on a cloudy night. Just hold on...
I'm 130 pounds now. The skinniest I've ever been, and it's because of drugs and the lack of desire to eat out of desperation. I stop eating when I'm broken inside. Yesterday Mike and I got $100 from his dad to keep us fed until we find jobs. Our first meal in three days, and I could only eat half a sandwich.
I can't even decide what I'm striving for anymore. My life is owned by circumstance and pain. I have no more goals, except the everyday goal to be skinny. That seems to be the only game I can win anymore.