I'm fucking dumb but I can't stop

I’m still 1 # away! #missingtrying #imsorry #heartstilllovesyou #tryingtoletgo #moveon #willalwaysbehereforyou https://www.instagram.com/p/CSF41BQAEdo/?utm_medium=tumblr

you were good to me

And now I'm closin' every door 'Cause I'm sick of wantin' more You were good to me You were good to me, yeah Swear I'm different than before I won't hurt you anymore 'Cause you were good to me

Why

It’s been almost half a year since I’ve seen you in person. I thought moving to the other side of Lake Michigan would make me forget you. That distance would be good. Helpful.

It wasn’t.

It seems like as soon as I moved out, she moved in. Even though you had been seeing her for about a month at that point, I didn’t know that. You were always so private. How was I supposed to know?

How did I ever feel like I knew you.

But then you were tagged in a photo on facebook. One of your master’s cohort friends who likes to document everything. You invited HER to your annual get-together with your master’s friends.

I think I knew then SHE was staying around.

I don’t know anything about this girl. I’m sure she has a fine personality. I only know her online persona. She seems vapid. She seems fake. Her teeth are too white and her hair color isn’t natural. She posts so many selfies. And who the fuck wears pinky rings in 2019?

But it’s been 5 months.

You’re officially in a relationship with her. You smile wide in every photo. You dress up. You wine and dine her even though with me you were always pretty stingy. Heard through the grapevine that you have been since September.

You still send me snapchats. Never facebook notifications. Never texts. Nothing but SnapChat texts which flow away after 24 hours. SnapChat texts that you don’t respond to for days at a time. You never remember what we were talking about. You sometimes leave me on read.

You’re playing with my heart and I think you know it. But you won’t stop it.

 I know you’re what we would call a “fuck boi.”

Too bad we never even got to fuck.

Now everyday I’m kicking myself for agreeing for us to be “friends.” I’m kicking myself that I ever told you I had feelings for you. I was so naïve that I thought you might too.

You chose a 22 year-old. You, a 27 year-old, chose a 22 year-old.

I know you’re immature. I know I intimidate you. I know I’m not as attractive as the one you did choose. But why lead me on like you did? Like you continue to do?

Why?

We’re at an impasse now. With every happy couples pic she posts, I’m out. With every left on read snap, I’m out. With every hopeful comment you send my way, I know I need to fight.

I’m not talking to you anymore. You make me feel worse about myself and I don’t need that.I’m just so tired of being sad and stuck in the past while you moved on immediately.

You didn’t. even. pause.

I’m tired of asking why. So instead….goodbye.

Getting My Diagnosis

So I guess right now I’m gonna start from the beginning, kind of..? I will put a trigger warning on this as it may be read by others...

How I got diagnosed is kind of a shitty story, I was diagnosed at age 16 with Clinical Depression. I was put on medication and it did help, for a period of time. After about 2 and a half to three years-ish I felt like I was losing the ability to actually feel emotion? Like I knew when I should have felt happy and I could smile and what not, but I couldn’t feel the happiness in my chest and that upset me.  So I stopped taking my medication and began to feel better, some days were worse then others. That’s normal though, until they start becoming more frequent again. I went back to my doctor after about a year and explained the situation to him again. Obviously my doctor was rather upset that I had not come to him originally to change my medication but he also understood at the same time, I was living about 3 hours of my doctor at that time. He prescribed me a medication called Zoloft. Zoloft is super effective for some people, so I accepted the medication change and asked when my follow appointment was to see how I was adjusting and he told me there was no need for a follow up.

At the time I didn’t think it mattered much either.

Fast forward about 3 months, I call my mom and tell her goodbye on my way home from work. I had everything planned before I got on the bus, but I wanted to hear my mom. I wanted her to know I loved her. I had told my “friend” (we’ll call them) that I would by to pick something up as the bus stop was just across from her house. I knew she’d be watching for me and I didn’t want it to seem odd so I went in and got what I needed. The tears were in my eyes as I stood there knowing this would likely be the last time I see her, we were never really super close but we were close enough that I knew I was going to miss her. I left in a rush to get home, I locked the door behind me and threw what I had picked up onto the table in the living room before going to my bedroom. I grabbed a box of band-aids and the bottle of Zoloft and headed to the bathroom.  I sat and stared at the pill bottle in my hand... I was done. I didn’t want to breath. I didn’t want to hear my heart beating in my ears. I didn’t want to live. At that moment as I cried all I could think of was my little sister, I helped raise her with my mother and I know she loves me with all her heart. I knew she’d be devastated. My little brother.  I hoped my mom wasn’t sitting on her bed crying, even though I knew she was. She knew what I was planning on doing, I was sure of it. I thought of my Best friends and the ones I talked so many times out of this. I was a hypocrite. There I was telling them that there was so much for them to live for, that there was people who loved them and that they needed to always remember that.  The thoughts had me cry so hard I had dropped the bottle on the floor, but inside the band-aid box, which was in my lap, had something just as good.  I pulled out the wadded up issue that was in there and began to cut. I hadn’t gotten very far when I heard the front door knob turn. My stomach dropped. My room mate was home. Then a knock as I pulled out a giant band-aid and stuck it over the area that was bleeding and pulled down my sleeve before shoving everything into my sweater pockets to bring to me with my room. The knock was odd, my roommate always had her keys but I wasnt taking any chances. If I didn’t go to the door she’d call me and know I was home. 

When I walked around the corner and saw who was standing outside of my front door through the window, I felt my anger and despair  rise. If I had done it already I wouldn’t have had to come to the door, I simply wouldn’t have been able too.  Two police officers stood outside my front door. We stared at each other a moment through the glass before he knocked on the door again, still staring at each other. I slowly unlocked the door and opened it, I couldn’t really feel anything anymore. I had lost the ability to feel after I dropped the bottle. I couldn’t feel the sting on my arm, I couldn’t feel my heart beating, my breath filling my lungs. I could just imagine what my face must have looked like.  They already knew my name, the addressed me by it as soon as the door cracked open even the slightest. They asked me what was going on, told me my mother had phoned them, and asked if they could come inside.  I reluctantly stepped aside and let them come into my home. I looked and the table and rolled my eyes remebering what was all over my living room table. I had enough to deal with already I didn’t need that aswell. Once inside they told me I had two choices. 1. Go willing in an ambulance to the Hospital 2. Refuse to go and be taken there by them in the back of their car.

I remember saying, “Well, cloth restraints wont leave as bad a bruise as cuffs would.” and he radioed in to let the ambulance that was on its way already know I wasn’t in critical condition and had agreed to go willing in the ambulance.  When it arrived I had just finished on the phone with my roommate, who was coming to the hospital after she was done work to see me. 

The ambulance ride was hell. They asked me to turn over anything I had on my person that could cause harm to me or someone else. If I did not do this willing they would have a female nurse search me when I arrived.  I reached into my pocket and pulled out the pills, handing them reluctantly to him. “Anything else?”  The blade in my bra felt more noticable on the skin where it pressed against. My face must have changed, he reminded me again that they would search me at the hospital if he felt I didn’t hand everything over. I inhaled deeply and took it out. I held it within my hand a moment before passing it aswell to him.  Yes I was angry now, but how much angrier would I have been had they strip searched me at the hospital? My anger boiled, tears began to spill from my eyes. I reached for the buckle that kept me in place in the seat. I was told I couldn’t do that. It clicked open and I put my head in my hands, “I want to go home.” was all I repeated as I kept trying to stand up only to have him put his hands on my shoulders and slowly sit me back down in the moving ambulance. I fought with him the entire way to the hospital yelling and crying that I was going home. I wasn’t going into the hospital, I didn’t care what they or my mother thought, she called for no reason. 

When I was brought in they examined me. My arm was fairly covered, none too deep so there was no worry from them outside of the fact there was something going on and that I needed help and had agreed with them before hand.  I was moved down to the ward waiting room, where they examine you and determine wiether you are able to leave the premises or if you’ll be there anywhere between just one night to 72 hours. This is call suicide watch. I waited a long time before I was seen and they requested alot of information from me. After I had answered all her questions, I asked the only on I had.

“I’m going home after this?” 

I saw the nurses face change and I knew what she was going to say before she could prepare to speak. “I need to go home. I need to go home. You guys have everything. I need to go home. Please. I’m begging you. Let me go home.” The thought of being locked up in a room with no way to contact those I love and need in times like this only to be poked, prodded and questioned by doctors made my anxiety rise to the point where I felt the vomit in the back of my throat.  She told me she’d speak with the doctor and be back shortly. It was the longest wait of my life. There was no way I was staying. I noticed there was a door to the hallway just beside me and if I needed to I could bolt out it and hopefully be gone before anyone can get me. I wasn’t staying. When the nurse came back, she asked me if I would be alone within the next 72 hours if she let me go home. I told her my room mate had already offered to take a few days off work if I needed her too.  She handed me a piece of paper with a phone number, a time, and a date for 72 hours from then as I had been bumped to the top of the list. My release conditions were; I couldn’t be alone whatsoever within the next 72 hours. I had to call the phone number on the paper the following day to confirm the appointment, if I didn’t the police would be sent to bring me back. I had to follow through and go the appointment, if I didn’t the police would be sent to bring me back. 

My mom and little brother had drove up the next day to see me. It was nice to see them and have them there to support me, but when they left the following day I felt alone. 

When I went to the appointment I was sat down and ran through the same questions again. After a while the questions started to change a little bit, alot more of “okay well between the 2 weeks prior, what were you feeling like? mmhmm okay and what about this week?”  After I had again answered all of someones questions, them picking apart my brain to no end. She looked at me said I was on the spectrum between Bipolar Disorder or Border-Line Personality Disorder (BPD). Both diagnosis have very, very similar signs and that she would review everything and have a diagnosis by the NEXT appointment, great.

Even hearing that made me angry. There was no way. I couldn’t be. I tried googling the signs and descriptions of each disorder to try and figure out for myself weither I have any of these signs or feel the way others with the disorders do. Even after reading I mean, I thought I was just very moody still. Not Bipolar or BPD. Sure as shit I got to my next appointment, 

“You have bipolar disorder.”

My brain couldn’t compute, My anger bubbled, but I chewed the inside of my lip and rubbed my face shaking my head. There was no way. She began talking about the disorder, trying to explain it me the best way she can. Informing me of the signs I showed and how to start learning to recognize my highs and my lows. 

Medication 

Another thing I hate and have now got to get used to again. Another reason I stopped my first medication was I didn’t like the thought of having to rely on a pill to live my life.  But the truth is I do, and I have to learn to accept that it isnt a bad thing. It doesnt make me weak.  Its one of the biggest struggles. I ended moving back to my home town once my medication was regulated and fully in my system. I felt myself be more kind of balanced out, in a way I supposed. The embarressing thing is I am living back home at age 21 because I need more support then I’d like to admit. I can’t be alone alot still, I find I beat myself up too much when I am. Sleep is always hard to come by still, I still flip between Insomniac and Hypersomniac. 

That was much longer than I had anticipated it to be, but that is how I got my diagnosis.  Writing it out actually made me feel alittle bit better today, a slight weight lifted a bit let go. 

A lot of personal things going on and it's been tearing me apart but still keeping my shit together... 💜💔 #tryingtomoveon #tryingtoletgo #lettinggooftoxicpeople #betteringmyself

Some nights I feel like a broken man, but it is only temporary.❤ #beyou #darksoul #beyourself #darkmind #poetryislove #poemsdaily #poetryporn #poet #darkpoetry #darkpoet #poemasdeamor #poetryislife #igpoem #broken #brokenman #brokenmind #hatedbymost #420community #bluntsmoker #fucklove #madness #horrorpoetry #caveman #420life #tryingtoletgo #worthless #scum (at Monclova, Ohio) https://www.instagram.com/p/B5E2zjngyoU/?igshid=lli5csuz65u4

#messyroommessythoughts #soft #tryingtoletgo #cut #nightiswhenimissyoumost

#tryingtoletgo #remindme #selflove

Mastering the art of letting go.

"I've come to the point of heart break where I hate everything that involved you. I never wished to, but I hate you. I hate you for making me feel this way. I hate you for not thinking of how I'd feel. I hate you for lighting me up like the cigarette you smoke every night and throwing me out exactly the way you do to the cigarette. I hate you so much for making me believe that you loved me. I feel so angry with you and myself, not only because I fell into whatever game you had going on, but mostly because I let myself think you actually cared and loved me. I don't know how to move on. Every thought of you is holding me back into some dark hole I can't climb out of. Every word you said is etched in my brain. Every smile, every laugh, every single special moment shared between us is constantly replaying in my head and I swear one more day of this and I'll pull out my hair. I hate how much of an effect you have on me. I hate it to death. I just wish I could be free from you. I feel like a sinking boat and I'm almost all the way under, just ready to go completely. I'm desperately ready to be free from you. I hate that I love you. " August 22nd. 1:19am.

Let her go.

I keep having dreams about you and it's fucking killing me. I don't want to wake up feeling empty anymore.

I hope she loves your tattoo, you know the one I gave you. The one that reminds you of me. The one that won't let you go.

Everyday

Tired of trying Tired of being so invested and crying drowning in the pain Tired of the fuckin charade Faking smiles and being forced outta bed Day to day trynna keep my head on straight And everyday not believing a word people say They claim to care and couldn't live without you But days pass without anyone by your side Alone everyday and pushing everyone out Either feeling numb or only feeling pain Head spinning and the worlds upside down All you want is to be happy but Happiness doesn't seem real and Happiness seems like it's for everybody else Try everyday to do something out of your comfort zone Try everyday to get something you'll always be without Sometimes the smallest thing will make you cry and shout Sometimes the littlest things will turn your day around but The pain is more than you can live with And sometimes living doesn't seem worth it But you keep going, keep fighting Never feeling worth it Feeling like you don't deserve to be happy And sometimes life proves: you don't deserve to be happy But everyday you've waken up tired And everyday you've fought to keep going. And everyday you continue to fight without a reason But everyday you'll fight for maybe one day you'll have a reason.

Its so weird that one day someone else will love me/I will love them as much as I loved him. Thats kinda a lot to process. Though, it doesn't hurt anymore. Though, at this moment in time, I don't trust anyone to even get a little close to me. Theres only so many times you can put your hand on a hot burner and not want to do it again. I'm not bitter, I promise. Just cautious for now. Not sure when I'll be ready, but I'm putting the pieces together on what I want and don't want in a partner. Its gonna be hard, letting someone get that close again. I will make comparisons; not on purpose, but just because they'll have some big shoes to fill. They better have a lot of patience! Life is tough.

The hardest decision I've ever had to make. #hardchoice #sadness #truelovehurts #tryingtoletgo

you stole my breath

swallowed it down while you

roamed every inch of my body

smoking eyes were one way mirrors

I could see myself but not 

you

fingertips pulsed through divots and ridges

teeth indenting your lip

and I was oblivious 

as I connected each freckle

like a constellation

raked grooves along your spine

that you were injecting heartbreak

into my fragile veins

so that it throbbed and squeezed 

around my brain as you returned

the breath you had stolen.

And as you left, kissed me goodbye

my smile slipped out the door too

and left me cold, the warmth of your arms

severed by sun rays reflecting off the tear streaks

on my cheeks.

I thought I could play pretend

barricade my heart from my body

but it's never that simple, is it? 

and like your eyes, my bathroom mirror

reflects my image as well

but all I see is disgust.

you make me beautiful

but you also make me beautifully destroyed

guess I like the way it hurts.