Tag: thoughts

there is a storm inside my heart

there is a storm inside my heart

a silent rumbling that shakes my core

i wonder how much more of this i can take

a heart of glass should contain flowers like dandelions and daisies and all the flowers i have ever loved

but the rage is intense and i feel it in waves and i don’t know whether i’m going to implode or explode, whether i’m going to cry or scream, so i just sit with it. i sit with it silently while it devours me whole and engulfs me with flames i do not know how to fight because all my life i have been drowning

how can i be burning up and drowning at the same time?

if my heart is made of glass, it must be tempered because i have felt it shatter all at once

what is your heart made of?

it pains me to say

i haven’t felt the least bit alive

that can’t be true now can it

every now and then i catch glimpses of myself

(the girl i used to be)

i can’t seem to laugh the way i used to 

a sharp twisting pain in my gut that stuns me every time

it leaves me gasping for air

(because it hurts)

and i can feel it spread, seeping from my stomach inside inside inside it’s staining me

i’m speechless but mostly just sorry

i must still be alive if i’m struggling to breathe

the struggle is so stupidly human

yours

when i tried to stop myself from feeling all i felt for you, i couldn’t 

i still tried to stop myself from telling you how much i felt

because if you didn’t know

if i didn’t say it

we’d always be what if.

you’d be my maybe

and i’d be your almost

we’d be perfect

precious, frozen in time

like a dream

but god, you are incredible

you are so easy to love

falling in love with you was inevitable

you hold me close

and touch me gently

you kissed me until there was more happiness inside me than sadness

there is so much love in my soul

my heart feels so full

i love when we just talk

i want to know all of you

i’m so lucky i get to explore your mind

i want to get lost forever

i see oceans in your eyes, it makes me so scared 

if you are the ocean then i am desperate to drown

how can you see me so clearly and still love me?

when i look into your eyes, i feel so bare

how can you see right through me,

and see me for all that i am?

even though i’m scared

even though we aren’t making any promises

i trust you and i trust us

we don’t have to make any promises 

you have all of me either way

when i love, i give my all 

all of me, my heart, completely

and i love every part of you 

i’m scared to say i’m yours but 

i am completely and utterly yours

i’m yours.

god isn’t real and nothing really matters

I never believed that God, destiny, or whatever [insert higher power] existed. Because if everyone’s lives were already predetermined, nothing we do matters. And if something like that did exist, why is there still so much hurt and suffering in the world? 

I used to fall asleep with hate in my heart and blood on my wrists.  Did I deserve that when I was 14? 15? 16-17-1819202122? Maybe. I was the one hurting myself. But what about all the times others hurt me? Did I deserve all of that? Did I deserve to eat lunch alone in the middle school bathroom stall because I didn’t feel safe anywhere else? Did I deserve to have my safe place taken from me? When girls tried to climb the stalls to take pictures of me? Or crawled under the gaps between the stalls and floor? 

I thought I knew what being violated felt like. I got too familiar with feeling empty and broken. I was comfortable in my numbness, and I let the emptiness sit in my chest. It was easy to let boys girls bitches friends dad mom people take pieces of me because they were already broken.  

My rapist took a different piece of me the night he fucked me against my will. 

Did I deserve to be touched without my permission? To be choked and hit and beaten as if I was not 97 pounds and him, over 200? To have bruises in places that should not have been touched?

I did not know I could feel emptier than I already was. The only thing I truly felt was the hate I had for myself. I felt hate in my blood in every fucking heartbeat pumping hate running through my veins as if I weren’t already drowning with lungs full of liquid guilt, as if I needed more reasons to kill myself slit my wrists and bleed out all the hope hurt just to feel anything other than this. 

I learned that the world moves forward even if I don’t. Life goes on. Pain and suffering go on and on and on and on. 

It still hurts when I think about what he did to me because he was my friend because I trusted him because I didn’t deserve what happened or maybe I still blame myself for being weak stupid trusting naive stupid stupid stupid and these days I think about that night more and more frequently, not of my own volition though I am just so triggered because I am back in Bangkok again and it still hurts because he was my father and I loved him and I trusted him to protect me from people like my rapist and I didn’t expect I didn’t think how could I know at the age of 11 that he was the one I needed to be protected from? How could I know?

God can’t be real. Fate. Destiny. All of that cannot be real. So while the concept of a higher power comforts many and lets them believe that everything will be okay in the end, I choose not to cannot believe in it.

I cannot believe life is predetermined because I cannot accept that this – my life my soul my brokenness my loneliness and hurt and anger-pain-emptiness-numbness unworthiness hatred guilt – is how I am supposed to feel. Maybe for now, but not forever.

I’d rather be dead than feel this for the rest of my life.

I don’t want to hurt – like this – anymore. 

I don’t know how much more I can take.

I’m trying my best but it is getting harder and harder to breathe. I am trying to heal in the environment that hurt me. I don’t think it’s working I need help I’m so trapped get me out of here I can’t sleep I don’t feel safe here this isn’t home I don’t think I can do this anymore I’m fucking breaking I am hiding the truth in my art because I am scared of him still and if this is art then it’s all up to interpretation, isn’t it? I speak in metaphors and hide between the lines. If you can read between them you can’t because I can’t either I am just scared.

Maybe I should just pray about it.

today and forever

i’m always so angry at the world

what’s the point of all this pain?

or i’m numb and i don’t care because what is the point?

if tomorrow never came why would it matter

if i already didn’t feel anything at all

when we’re together everything feels right and

the world doesn’t seem as scary as it used to be

it feels like maybe life isn’t so bad because people like you exist and there is hope in the world after all

i’m not angry at the world, i’m grateful to be alive

because if i weren’t, i wouldn’t have met you

i’m no longer numb or cold

there is a light inside me that wants to fight

and i can feel my heart beat so fast all the time

i have never felt more alive

i don’t know what the future holds but i know that i never want to stop feeling this way

the more i know you, the harder i fall

you are so easy to love

your heart is so big and so strong

you hurt but you are still kind

you care about people

and you are kind to them even though they haven’t always been kind to you

they say when a writer falls in love with you, you live forever in their words

i never want this to end

and i am afraid of tomorrow

so there is no tomorrow

only today and forever

and for today and forever

we are alive

losing my battles

drowning

I’m hurting again. The days are bleeding into one another and I am bleeding internally. I promised myself maybe four years ago now, that I wouldn’t make myself bleed anymore. Not externally, anyway. But there is so much pain in not letting go. In not cutting myself open and bleeding out the hurt and pain inside me.

I am so angry sometimes it scares me. I feel like punching a wall. But mostly I just want someone to punch me. Someone to hurt me so hard I forget what it’s like to be hurting on my own. People understand broken bones but they do not understand broken parts. They do not know what it’s like to be screaming all the time. They do not know what it is like to be woken up from visceral nightmares of hanging bodies and loose limbs in the forest. They do not know that when I wake up, I remember. I remember every single detail of my dream and they do not know that I was there. I know it isn’t real. It’s probably stupid and incredibly trivial. But when I wake up from a nightmare, it sticks with me. I sleep a lot more than I should because my nightmares make me tired.

I want to dream about something so incredibly mundane like waiting in line at an airport or buying mayonnaise at the grocery store. These dreams are getting too much for me to handle and they are spilling into my reality. I get scared walking through the streets. I think someone will stab me or shoot me. I’m scared of geocaching in the woods because, what if I find a hand? What if I find a body? I’m not ready for that. My dreams are a part of who I am. I don’t expose myself to violent movies or scary movies even though they’re my favorite kind to watch. I like feeling unsettled from a movie but I can no longer enjoy them because I don’t want to exacerbate my dreams.

I feel lost and out of control. I hate uncertainty and life is known to be full of them. I’m at a tumultuous time in my life where I can’t find the balance between my mental health, work, and school. I feel like a failure. A disappointment. Why is my bar set so high?

These days, I’m grateful to just be able to get out of bed. To brush my teeth and go outside. Normal things that normal people do. But they’re easy for them. It’s a battle every single day for me to even get up. I can’t find the motivation to do it. My bed is my kidnapper and I have Stockholm Syndrome. I love my bed but I hate it. It gives me comfort but it won’t let me leave. Why won’t it let me leave?

I’m supposed to be stronger, to be better, but I don’t know if it’s working. All the medication, all the therapy — is it even worth it? Am I stronger than I was before? Just because I was raped, found out that I was sexually abused as a child, had suicide become a part of my life? Am I stronger than I was before? Because that’s all that matters, right?

All my traumas are spilling out all at once and I don’t know what to do. Every single day is a struggle. Every single day is a battle. And most days, I am not winning.

saying nothing

My head is spinning. I have so many thoughts. So many dots that don’t quite connect. All I’ve ever wanted was a sense of clarity. Why is everything so muddled?

It’s been almost a year since the incident. Almost a year since I’ve posted on this blog. I think about writing, about posting nearly every day but I can never think of anything to say. So here I am, saying nothing.

I’ve had really really good days. Days so good I didn’t want to ruin them by writing thinking feeling all my thoughts turn into words. Does that make sense? I’ve also had some really shitty days. Those are the days I want to write the most. My fingers itch and mind longs to write to post and scream and shout and tell the world that I am not okay. But I also didn’t want to disappoint.

People are so happy for me when I am happy, I cannot bear to tell them that I still get sad sometimes. It’s all so disappointing.

So, I am writing today. It’s not a great day but it’s not a terrible one either. It’s like the weather here in Revere. Foggy. Misty. Cloudy but bright skies. Overcast. The smell after it rains (there was a thunderstorm last night, the lightning was crazy).

I can’t think too much about the words I’m spewing or I’ll get scared and delete it all. So here is me, saying nothing. But also everything. I’m going to stop writing and publish this before I lose my nerve. Thanks for reading.

I’m not really in the mood for writing but I figured if I started, things would just get flowing. I had an exam today that I thought I was unprepared for but it turned out better than I thought, so that’s good. I still have a bunch of work piling up and I’m not so sure what to do. I want to take a break from school and from life but it seems like I’m always taking a break even though I don’t feel like I am. Joe says it helps to make to-do lists. He made me a pretty pink smoothie today. I’ve been on my new medication for about a week now and I do think it’s helping but I still need more time to adjust. As I was studying yesterday, I realized that, in the grand scheme of things, this moment is very small and I probably won’t even remember it. And I should focus on the important things that make me happy. Sometimes I get sidetracked. Life just gets in the way. I took two naps today and I’m still tired. Every morning when I wake up, the only thing that gets me through the day is the thought of coming back home to sleep. I want to feel inspired again but I don’t know how. At least that’s a step towards somewhere, right? I need affirmation that everything is going to be okay because I don’t know if it is. I’ve lost a lot of myself and I don’t know how to get her back. I just don’t know anything anymore.

31 October​​ 2018

I don’t feel so bad today. I think.

I woke up at 9:30 a.m. and decided not to go to my bio lecture because I think that it is a waste of my time. I hate biology.

I ate cheerios and immediately felt guilty afterward.

I submitted my essay to the very nice professor who granted me an extension (I told him about my crippling depression). Which made me realize that I should probably be asking for more help.

I told Her Campus about my crippling depression too (ironic because I’m working on the mental health campaign). So they’re giving me time off.

I finally have an appointment tomorrow with BU’s student health services so I guess I’ll finally have help (??).

I keep having nightmares that leave me panic-stricken in the middle of the night. I always feel guilty for waking Joe up but it is so hard for me to fall back asleep. His breathing helps steady mine.

I can’t remember the last time I called my dad and I always feel guilty thinking about it. I can’t call him yet – he’ll ask me how things are and I can never lie to him. But I can’t tell him how much I’m struggling because I need to prove to him that I can be an independent adult.

I have an article I’m supposed to write for my journalism class that’s due in a couple of days. I like this class a lot. And my professor is incredibly inspiring. But I’m scared of all the deadlines I will miss because of my mental health. I haven’t missed any yet because I’m really pushing myself.

This post sucks but it made me feel a little bit better so I guess that’s okay. I still feel incredibly lost but I’m trying.

-D

 

*I realized after I posted this that today was Halloween. So, Happy Halloween! It’s kinda sad that I forgot actually, it’s one of my favorite holidays.

the truth

I haven’t been feeling so great lately.

Mental health has always been something that I’ve talked about as a thing of the past. But it isn’t. Not at all. I’ve had my fair share of relapses, but every time I sink a little deeper, I know that I can make my way up. I’m not so sure this time.

I don’t know what’s happening. I feel like I am trying so hard to be okay because I know it isn’t easy for the people around me. And it sure as hell isn’t easy for me either. All the days have blended in with one another and I feel as if I am losing myself. All I want to do is stay in bed and sleep forever. But I know that I can’t. I know that I have responsibilities. I’m supposed to go to college and get straight A’s. Be a good role model for my younger sisters. My parents have invested in me. My family looks up to me. I want to give up. But I can’t.

At the same time, I don’t want to give up. I’m grateful for my life. It’s been a good one. To Nina, Sara, Joe, and Dena: thank you for always supporting me and taking care of me. I hope I haven’t taken anything for granted. I love all of you so much. But I’m not so sure that I can be fixed. I’m not so sure I even have the energy to want to be fixed. I just don’t know anything anymore.

How do you tell people who love you that you can’t do this anymore? That you are just so so tired? That you just want to sink deeper and deeper into yourself until you disappear? That you just. want. to. sleep.

You can’t.

The point of this blog is for me to get my feelings out and to tell the truth. For the longest time, I thought that I always had to write something happy – people love reading happy stories, right? Or if I wrote something sad, it would have to be about how “things are so much better now” or how I learned so much or how I suddenly discovered myself.

But that is not what this post is. I haven’t reached any sort of resolution or conclusion. I’m more lost than I have ever been before. I need help and I don’t know how to get it. I’m tired of trying.

a letter to my madness

Dear Madness,

sad rain girl

The days keep getting harder and harder. I really wish we weren’t this sad. I know that we’re in this together and that we should work together to make things right. But you make it so damn hard for me to want to help when all you do is fuck everything up. I don’t know what to say to you because I’ve tried everything and nothing seems to work. Nothing seems to be enough. I’m tired. Please stop making me go through this again. Everything hurts and this is unfair. I want to enjoy life. I want to wake up early and drink orange juice and pet my kittens and go to bed without waking up and crying in the middle of the night. I’ve accepted you, I’ve reasoned with you, I’ve made you almost disappear a couple of times. Don’t I get points for that? I have taken you home with me and introduced you to my family. They’ve accepted you too. Why isn’t that enough for you? Why do you keep coming back to haunt me? You’ve been my shadow for a long long time now. I’ve gotten too used to you. Please leave me alone.

— Spilled

12:56 p.m.

I’m tired.

I’m tired of never knowing what to say, of saying too much, of saying not enough. I’ve been having such a hard time being back in Boston and I don’t know why. I can’t focus on one thing for long enough, it’s as if I no longer care. I keep messing up over and over and over again. I’m unhappy. I don’t want to wake up. And I feel ungrateful for feeling all of these things because it seems like this, right now, is all I’ve ever wanted in my life. Is there something so fundamentally wrong with me that I can’t appreciate what life has given me? I should be used to feeling this way. I should know how to deal with this. But I feel so lost right now because I don’t know what I’m supposed to do when 2 a.m. depression hits me in the middle of the day.

I’m tired.

summer daydreams

tumblr_p5d058ID6R1tljlp8o1_640

she is beautiful

she is strong

she is the apocalypse.

 

she is the breath caught in your throat

and the stumble between your heartbeats

 

she is a swirl of bubblegum skies

and chapped stick kisses

 

she tastes like honey

and summer daydreams

 

she reminds you of an ocean

breathless, breathtaking

relentless

 

she is gentle

she is lost

and she loves you

 

 

 

 

a conversation

him: take off your shirt

me: I, um, I don’t think–

him: c’mon baby, I know you want to feel good

me: I don’t know if I–

him: I’ll take it off for you

I have lost so much of myself in past relationships

so many countless hours of calls that I didn’t want to answer

endless murmurs of no’s that end up becoming maybes and then yeses

it wasn’t his fault that I didn’t want to do anything

wasn’t his fault that I was incapable of saying no

that I couldn’t say no

because I wanted it to be good

I wanted to be good

I still get flashbacks from times I would rather not remember

I still ask myself every day why I did those things

why I said those things when I wanted to cry

why I let him take off my shirt and unhook my bra

why I said it was okay, keep going, it’s fine, it doesn’t hurt

but it wasn’t okay, I wanted to stop, and it did hurt

did I really want to be loved that badly?

to have ruined all the parts with dignity left in me?

was I incapable of loving myself?

even now, I still struggle to say no when I don’t want to do something

and I’m slowly learning that saying no doesn’t make me weak

it doesn’t make me any less of a person

saying no makes me strong

because it means that I am choosing myself

I am choosing to love myself