Because isn’t that what the great writers and poets did when seeking inspiration? Walk through the snow, among the tall, resilient trees, and create some metaphor, some reason out of a benign clump of berries? Well I walked, through snow and trees just the same and I sat in silence, but the only thing I felt was cold.
Best thing I’ve heard all day.
I’ll never understand how you can have so much faith in someone you don’t know. You say I’m a good person, but no one who sees me daily seems to think so. You have too much faith that I’m strong, that I’ll be okay. I HAVE no basics to get me through each day. My life is nothing. I have nothing. No job, no love, nothing.
But I don’t mean to be refusing your kindness. Wounded animals bite, even if you’re only trying to help them. In all sincerity, thank you.
Well thank you at least for your kind words, anon. My head WAS above water, that’s the kicker. And then everything that was keeping me afloat drifted away, and the person who promised to teach me how to swim pushed my head back down…and is holding it there. It seems like anyone who might be pretty cool in this world wants nothing to do with me at all. I’m just struck by the terrible unfairness of it all. My head hurts so much.
At least Stone is wonderful…thanks Stone.
What is the goddamn POINT anymore? My family is a fucking wreck, all of my friends live hours away or else are always busy, and that boy is NEVER fucking coming back. No one ever comes back.
You know what? No. I’m not fucking sorry. If me talking about wanting to end my fucking life because I’ve finally reached that point of being so unbearably worthless offends you, you can fuck right off. I’m not asking for your goddamn sympathy. No one said you had to listen to me. Take a fucking walk while you still can jackass, because someday your world will come crashing down too. Everything you thought you knew will come out to be a lie and in the pain you will come to hate the very things you loved the most.
Until you know what it’s like to be awake for 72 hours, not eating, not leaving your fucking bed, because what’s the fucking point, shut up. Until you’ve projectile vomited from sobbing for hours, days on end, shut up. And until your everything hurts so fucking badly that you’d down a bottle of Naproxen just to make it fucking stop, don’t you say a goddamn word to me.
Going to bed with a belly full of painkillers sounds like the best idea I’ve ever had right about now. I’ve essentially got nothing. No one wants me. Not anymore. I’m nobody’s “her”. I don’t belong to anyone. I’ll never be able to compete with the exes. I’ll never be enough to hold someone’s attention.
Just a break, they said. But none of those boys ever came back, and none of them ever will. No one will ever stay.
Forgive me for being unbelievably fucking whiny, but I think it’s time I went to sleep.