I think about silencing myself sometimes. It would hurt a lot, but I think that it would be worth it. I talk too much, and I know how much it annoys people. When I speak, it helps people to realize just how much they don't need me in their lives. It hurts, but not enough to make me angry. I'm not strong, but I am understanding. More often than not, people avoid me, but I get it. I'm too much on so many different levels. I'm not exactly proud of that, but I'm not ashamed either. I'm happy that I can recognize that. People like to think that I can’t tell when I’m boring them, but I can. Some had to teach me how to see it, but now I can tell when people are humoring me. It happens a lot more often that I ever wanted to believe. So, why even say anything at all? Now, I just feel dumb when I talk about things. Yeah, it has a lot to do with low self esteem, but it also has a lot to do with people being fake. The fakeness, it’s like this mask that people wear, it’s a wall they hide behind. Instead of being honest, they’d rather spare your feelings by pretending to want you around. I understand why people do that, but I think that there are people who abuse it. I can hear the confusion, hate, disgust, and most of all humor, in people’s tones when I speak. Sometimes, I can hear the very moment when a person stops listening, and blocks me out. So, there are times right before I go to sleep, when I think about getting needle and thread, and sewing my lips closed. Yes, it’s morbid, but I’d be doing myself, and so many others a favor.
To you, it may look painful, but when I found this, it made me smile. To me, this is beautiful. I can’t help but wonder about that person. Real or fake, a statement is being made here. Maybe they feel the same way I do, maybe they feel guilty about the words that come out of their mouth. Maybe their mouth often got them into trouble, maybe they were tired of hearing their own voice. Or maybe they just wanted to know how it felt. Whatever the reason….I’m happy that I found this. I get happy when I find new things, even if it’s just a random photo. Like the needle and thread one. Or a picture of places like this.
I don’t know where that is, but I don’t need to. It looks like the perfect place. For life, for death, for anything. There could be anything beyond that fog, and I don’t think I would hesitate to find out. I’d walk slow, but I’d still go right on through. True, I don’t know for sure what I would find, but I know what I would want to find. Somewhere to sit, a place where I could very comfortably fall and stay asleep. A place that smells like Egyptian Musk.
Yes. This is perfection. Warm water, candles. As awkward as it would be, this tub, in that place would be pure magic. The moment would mean nothing without something to listen to. A song to hear, one that flows like warm wind through the air. A song that fit’s the atmosphere.
A song like this. It’s calm, it breathes….and it’s beautiful. Just like that place. It would be the perfect setting to say goodbye. To close my eyes, and take my very last breathes. Everything would just melt away, piece by piece.
See, I have these tiny little demons inside my head. True, they’re tiny but they don’t exactly tread lightly, and they work fast. They run around inside my head, so fast and so often that they’re making it damn near impossible to use all my emotions anymore. My excitement towards things is almost totally gone. There are exciting things happening around me, and I’m happy, but I’m not excited. I’m proud, but I’m not excited. I know how it sounds, I do. It sounds as if I don’t care about others being happy, and having lives to be proud of. That’s not the case, not at all. The people I love, and care about will always make me happy in some way or another. I will always be happy for the good things they get out of life, that will never change. The thing is, it’s nobody’s fault but my own that certain feelings of mine are being taken over by the mind numbing little demons that are taking over my mind. I’m not strong enough to handle real life, and I’m not about to pin that on somebody else.
You know, some people don’t believe that depression is real. They think it’s some made up thing, created by weak people who feel sorry for themselves, and pin all of their problems on others. Well….to each their own opinion. Each and every one of us is a different person. A person with opinions of our own. However, I will never agree with the small minded view. The small minded view that just because one person handles life their way, that it will work for everybody else around them. Depression is a disease, and diseases kill. I don’t feel sorry for myself, I genuinely hate myself. I don’t blame my issues on other people. My sadness and heartbreak is just a part of me that happens to be stronger than other parts of me. Some people in this world are just sad, and don’t want to be alive. That’s just how some people happen to be. It's a fact. It maybe sad, it may hurt, but it's real. Just because others don’t really understand that feeling, doesn’t mean they have to be mean, and judgmental about it, but they always will be. That’s how other people are. Again, we’re all different. Understanding should be part of that difference, but it’s not. People will forever lash out against what’s different. There will always be people in this world who feel like it’s normal to insult, and judge those who are so different, that they don’t understand. These are people that will never grasp a certain concept. That just because they don’t understand or agree with something, they have to destroy and insult it. That to me…it’s painful. I don’t like how that makes me feel. So, when I feel like escaping to a world where, my mouth is sewn shut, and I’m dying in a bathtub, in the middle of a colorful little foggy world….I’ll do that. Because in my mind, that’s just better. It hurts less, and it’s just better than the real things. People will read my words, and study my thoughts, and they will automatically assume that I’m negative towards life. If that’s how it seems to people, fine. Everybody is allowed to have their own thoughts. I don’t believe that my thoughts towards death are all negative. Death scares me, but it also gives me this overwhelming feeling of a peace that lasts forever and ever. I should probably hide most of the things that I feel, I know that I should. This world isn’t mature enough to handle some of the thoughts that people have these days. It’s just how it happens to be now, you know? My honesty will always turn most people against me, and it hurts, but it’s real. The real truth is, I’d happily take my very last breath listening to beautiful music, in the middle of a colorful fog, thinking about the few things in life that made me smile more often that not. Accept it, or don’t. You’re allowed to feel however it is that you feel.
