I Hope You Never Understand

I hope you never know what it’s like to wake up and wish you hadn’t. Not because you’re tired and you want another few minutes of sleep; not because you’re hungover; not because it’s Monday and you don’t want to go to work.
I mean you wake up, and you realize tomorrow came — and it’s not a good feeling. I mean you wake up and you open your eyes, only to close them right away and silently will yourself away from it all. I mean you wake up and you are disappointed that you didn’t, by some miracle, die in your sleep.

Quite simply, I mean waking up is just a reminder that you haven’t escaped your life yet. You’re still here. And I hope you never understand what it’s like to wish you weren’t here.
I hope you never understand what it’s like to be unable to get out of bed. Not physically — because physically, you are capable. Your legs work. Your heart is beating. But I hope you never understand what it’s like to be unable to move simply because your thoughts are crippling you. I hope you never understand what it’s like to be held in place, stuck there, battling with yourself within your own mind. Swing that leg out and touch the floor. Take a step. Get out of the bed.
I hope you never understand what it’s like to forget what happiness feels like. I hope you never feel like there’s no way out of your sadness. I hope you never get overcome by numbness. I hope you never experience that feeling of pure emptiness. I hope you never feel like there is nothing good, or bad, coming around the corner. I hope you never feel like you can’t imagine there being a future for you.
I hope you never need to rely on people to remind you to eat.
I hope you never need to rely on people to remind you to sleep or to be awake.
I hope you never need to rely on people to remind you to take your multiple medications on a daily basis.
I hope you never, ever need to rely on people to hide all the sharp knives in the house so you can’t get hold of them to hurt yourself.
I hope you never, ever need to be checked on every time you take a bath, just because there’s a chance you’re trying to drown yourself.
I hope you never know what it’s like to not be trusted near open windows.
I hope you never have to convince yourself not to jump in front of the train as it approaches on the platform.
I hope you never understand what it means to be afraid of opening the front door and stepping out into the real world.
I hope you never have to force yourself to appear normal and happy when all you want to do is run and hide, and never come out.
I hope you never understand what it feels like to worry that everyone in the world is against you.
I really hope you never understand what it means to feel completely alone while you’re surrounded by people.
I really, really hope you never understand what it means to want to end it all.
I do hope you understand that you can’t always understand.
I do hope you understand that you don’t need to understand.
I do hope you understand that you can’t fix everything.
I hope you understand that no one thinks you can, and no one is expecting you to.
I think you do understand that no one knows the battles other people are fighting.
I think you do understand that we all have our own stories.
I think you understand that we don’t need to understand each other to support each other, and to love each other, and to wish the very best for each other.
I think you can see that all anyone has ever wanted is to be accepted.
So, stand by me. Lie next to me. Sit with me. Talk to me. Stay silent. Hold my hand or smile at me. Tell me you’re with me and that everything will be okay, someday. It might not be now. I know that. I might be hurting for a long time. I might be numb for a long time. I might be happy for a long time, and I might feel myself falling down the tunnel again.
So just tell me you’ll stay with me and you’ll protect me from myself, because that’s who I’m most afraid of.
Tell me you’ll hang out with me until the storm passes. And then, once it has, hang out with me some more.
You don’t have to understand me. I don’t want you to know what this is like, because I know it’s awful, and that’s enough. I don’t want you to know it for yourself.
I just want to know that you’re here with me.

~ Becca Kelly

August 18, 2015

"Standing in the cold, dark bathroom, she hacked into her wrist with a razor blade and quietly stared at the blood that flowed from the cut. She told herself she was a bad person and deserved the pain.
A part of her felt reassured by the sight of the blood – it showed she was alive – since she felt so dead and empty inside. As she stared at her image in the bathroom mirror, she thought, “I have no idea who that person is staring back at me.” Author Unknown

August 17, 2015

After considerable self evaluation I have succumb to my inability to have any sort of "healthy relationship" whether it be intimate or platonic. I do not possess the ability to think logically or perhaps it seems that way. I have struggled for too many long years and no longer feel the desire to struggle. I will give in to the demons if they will back off for a short time.

August 11, 2015

I can spend hours upon days going over in my mind the things that I need to get done in order to move past the past however; when it comes right down to it I haven't the strength nor courage to follow through.  What the fuck is that all about?  If I'm as strong as some say why haven't I the ability to just let go like the rest of the fucking world does?  Why do I harbor shit and allow it to destroy me?  Go figure.WHY DOES MY LIFE HAVE TO BE SO COMPLICATED? WHY?

August 4, 2015

I just hope that I don’t lose my identity to the definition of the illness and that I will have the strength and character to do my best to control it and not let it control me. Stigma does really drain the life out of me!  I am physically and emotionally beat down today!

August 3, 2015

One would think that by now I would have these out of control emotions under some sort of "control" however; they are seemingly worse than ever.  I have often thought of begging for my life to be taken so that I can start over.  The anxiety is ever so overwhelming.  There is not one solitaire moment throughout the course of an entire day that I am not on the edge, waiting for the wind to blow softly or for that gentle push to throw me over.  What more is there to say or do?  I live my life daily in fear.  I cry so much that one would think I had no tears left to shed.  I wish more often than not to disappear. I am no longer capable of coping.