I've lost all hope that I can overcome this on my own. My meds were upped today and I once again feel as though I've failed myself. I haven't taken my razors out once since I brought them home and I'll be able to put them back where I found them on Wednesday. I'll be so much more relaxed once they're gone. I don't want to ever have the urge to take them out again. I feel like a terrible person. I'm supposed to tell my therapist everything and there's so much I haven't told her. I don't think I want her to know everything.
I didn't choose to stop cutting--that was their idea. They all took that from me...I need something else in its place. This thing, though the effect isn't immediate, does put a smile on my face. I don't smile much anymore. Paranoia is setting in and I can't keep my mind from racing. I worry about everything. I worry about whether or not my hair's perfectly straight, whether the color I'm wearing makes me stand out in a crowd, if I'm going to or have already said something foolish. I could go on forever. I worry about what my family thinks of me, what my friends and acquaintances think of me, and what total strangers think of me. Sometimes the only way to get through a situation is to be somewhere else in my head. If I'm not there then neither is anyone else. I feel alone and safe. Sometimes I feel as though I can't breathe. It controls my mind and body and I'm left on my own to "deal" with it. "Take deep breaths" they say. If I do anything to calm down it only makes it worse because then I'm constantly thinking about it. And it never goes away.
My Utopia is one in which the world is as it is...and I am alone in it. Safe from judgment and ridicule. I know this isn't the ideal or "healthy" lifestyle but right now it's the only one I desire...
I have been put on display for all to see
They crowd around to look at me
They judge my clothes, my hair, my skin,
Whether or not I should be thin.
They laugh at all my visible faults
though I am in pain inside
They scorn my secret activities
which I fight so hard to hide.
My Life
Blackness all around my heart
A mind that's twisted and falling apart
Holding onto sanity
Searching for vanity
Pushing every soul away
Ignoring what they say
Fearing your judgment
Hating your sentiment
Writing away my sorrows
Avoiding tomorrow
Wishing for the end to come
Feeling like a victim.
Poetry doesn't help anymore
I don't know what I write it for
I never show a living soul
It no longer makes me feel whole.
