unf
.
to that girl who mocked me for being suicidal, to that person who abandoned me because I was depressed, to myself, because I fucking did it on my own.

Being depressed is so much more than just crying out your emotions in bed or not wanting to be sad anymore. It’s not something you can recover from in a day or a week. It’s not something you can just say “feel better” to or give a smile and everything will suddenly be okay. It’s not being able to talk to anyone because they won’t understand you, or they don’t even care. It’s hating every little thing that once made you smile and brightened your day up. It’s wanting to wake up from this nightmare but at the same time never wanting to because reality is shit. it’s to feel completely alone. even when you’re surrounded by so many people and not one can feel your pain. to be physically tired and mentally abused of your own thoughts and fucked up mind. it’s to want to die every minute of you life because you can’t handle it, but the only reason you don’t kill yourself is because it’s too much. you don’t have the motive to move, to try, to do anything. It’s to receive some sort of relief by just planning your suicide. It’s to slowly watch everything just fall apart in front of you and have no one else notice it. It’s to suffocate in your own sobs, and have such a disgusting heaviness resting over your shoulders that just causes you to break down. You’re afraid to even think because that’s exactly what messes you up, where you don’t even want to get through your day and have to wake up the next day to face the same exact misery. to have everyone see those scars on your wrist that you try to hide with bands and long sleeves, to have everyone see your puffy eyes after a long night full of tears.  but worst of all, to just hate yourself. to have no control over anything anymore, to only hurt yourself and not care anymore. Yeah, it is so much more than you can actually handle.
I’ve taken the time out of my life contemplating on whether my life was worth keeping or not. I honestly thought, that if I killed myself, no one would really care. Because as of right now , all it is is a joke. All the little things that I gave away hoping someone would help me, were just calls for attention, because I wasn’t really going to die was I? It was just a big JOKE.
If I killed myself all those nights I attempted to, every single person would remember every bit of cry and whine I left behind. and it will forever torture their lives. Living with that guilt will eat them alive. the few friends I actually had will now become depressed and won’t want to deal with things, the same exact way I didn’t want to. They’ll cry on my birthday instead of celebrating, they’ll only tear up when they look at our pictures full of memories, the pictures where I looked so happy but they never knew how broken I was. Oh, and I couldn’t even imagine who will have to plan my funeral, picking out the songs to play and the pictures to put up on a slideshow. my brother will never look at this family the same, and my little sister? will she regret not walking into the restroom after seeing me cry my heart out? will she regret not hugging me and comforting me, but I can’t blame her, she didn’t understand the reason for bloody towels in the restroom and razor blades lying around in my room. Everyone will hate me for being so selfish, they’ll be angry. Someone will be so upset with themselves for not trying to save me.
and what about my boyfriend? yes, the only person who knew what was going on in my head, and still couldn’t stop me from taking my own hopeless life. a part of him will die too. he’ll be incomplete for the rest of his life. he’ll go into my room and cry. think of all the memories we spent. and what will happen to my most cherished possessions? who will take those? or will they even dare touch them? my parents. oh yes, they will be known as the parents of her who killed herself. how fucked up was she? did they not do anything to help her? who would have called my best friend and boyfriend to tell them I was dead. do they really need to deal with this in their life?
No, I overcame my depression. I’m better than all of this, and I didn’t need any prescribed medications that were suggested or professional doctors. and I sure as hell do not need to keep searching for more razors after razors anymore. I have enough scars covering my arms and I don’t need anymore to face. Life is hard. but my best moments in life outdo the worst. I was put on this Earth because I am strong enough to live through it. I got through this and now there is a life after what I was facing. It was hard but I’m here now and I appreciate every little thing oh, so much more.  ♥

13 notes
  1. raggyitstimetoletgo reblogged this from aydreeb0t
  2. therapyofthemind reblogged this from aydreeb0t
  3. redslimbrosky reblogged this from aydreeb0t
  4. aydreeb0t posted this