E is for Enough. Part 2 of Grief ~Anger

Pretty angel

Make me bleed

Do you hate the world

As much as you hate me?

Is that what made you leave

Why you didn’t say goodbye

Is that the reason

You took your own life

Did I make you suffer?

Cause you to much pain?

Is that the reason decided to leave that day

Did it hurt?

Did you cry?

How did it feel when you decided to die?

I bet you wanted me to feel so sad?

Was it all apart of you plan

I bet you wanted me to feel so alone?

Did you mean to be gone so long?

What made you decide that it was ok

To bloody yourself beyond repair?

Did you assume that I would care?

What was flowing through your mind?

Did you want the world to leave me behind?

What made you do it?

Was it truly me?

You are dead now

But are you really free?

A/N

As I have stated before, I am actually pretty suicidal. To help combat that I write poems written as though I have died. It helps me see reality so to speak.

I feel the need to explain this one a bit just because of how uncomfortable it can make people. This is part of my stages of grief stories but in this one the person who is dead is trying to figure out why they did it. When they ask themselves if they hate the world then they do themselves they are basically saying that instead of living and punishing the world they jusf decided to end themselves.

There are so many routes this person could have taken and they settled on the final one. I may habe to rewrite this cause I just yawned and confused myself.

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In sickness and in health

Warning :self harm, suicidal ideation, bulimia, anorexia, mental disorders.

I got sick today. Like really sick.

And I know what you are thinking, why the hell did I just tell you about my five min date with the butt throne.

Well my dear people I am telling you this because it made me feel good.

Yes as I sat there puking my guts out all I could think of was

‘This isn’t so bad at all. A few months of this and I can finally be pretty’

Even know I sit here trying to make more come up because I want to lose this weight. I want to be skinny because to me that equals beauty. Now I do not hold this standard to everyone. People can be beautiful no matter what their size may be but I can’t. I will never be beautiful. I will never be someone who people want to give seconds looks. I am barely someone they want to see at the corner of their eye.

Not to say I believe me to be disgusting but I do find myself to be distasteful…borderline disgusting.

I hate myself so much that for a mins while getting sick I wanted to keep doing it. I wanted it all to go away. I kept thinking about all the disgusting foods I can shove down my throat just to have a reason to puke.

So I can be skinny

So I can be beautiful.

I will like to make a point to say that I also have the flu or a cold..whatever sickness this is I have it.

So I did not set out for today to puke up my delicious chicken tortilla soup with extra sour cream combined with a to die foe root beer float. I would have actually liked to have been able to digest that, thank you very much.

But once it happened, I felt relief. I felt alive.

This reminded me of something though. It reminded me of my addiction to cutting.

Both of these cause me great pain but in the end they bring me the greatest pleasure.

Through the pain I know that I am alive. I feel powerful. I feel beautiful. I feel as though I can finally see the light. Do you know how addicting it can be to have all that when your normal is constant darkness and paranoia. To finally have some clarity.

I can see the colors!

All the pretty pretty colors.

Sadly,

I know how destructive this can be. I know what it looks like for someone to starve themselves to lose weight. I know what it looks like for someone to accidently kill themselves.

I know the end result of my addiction.

So I don’t follow through with my temptations. No matter how much my mind tells me that I need to.

Instead I wait with anticipation for the next I cut or burn my skin by accident. I await that moment when I can spend hours in the bathroom due to some illness.

I no longer inflict these wounds on myself.

Instead I wait for someone else to do it for me.

All praise mother Gaia and karma.

May they serve me the pain I need to stay alive.

Tomorrow

Today I do not really feel good. My depression is getting to me. I can not leave my house unless someone actually makes me leave. I can’t say no to invite no matter how much I want to.

I sit and struggle to stay awake. Sleeping forever seems like such a good idea right now.

I get so frustrated….so angry with just about everything.

My daughter was singing today and it felt as though she was scrapping her nails against a chalkboard. Not to say she couldn’t sing but the sound. The fact that she was happy and singing made me so mad. I had to leave the room. I apologized for telling her to stop. No! Not telling, I freaking yelled for her to stop.

She got so upset so I apologized, but the anger was still there.

I had to leave the room for a bit. I didn’t go back for maybe 30 mins or more. Just hid in my room and cried.

I am doing this all on my own. I have friends but I can’t feel it. Like there is a void that is stopping me from accepting the fact that people…Care

It hurts. I know that it is there and it hurts. I hate myself for feeling this way, but who can I talk to? I feel as though I am being judged all the time. So who can I talk to? Who can really help me understand that things are not what they seem.

My?

Maybe…

Honestly I am just going through the motions.

Wading through this until it ends. That is all I can do. So I do it.

I am ever grateful for the people who put up with me regardless.

Cut and Burn

It burns inside.

The urge to do some harm to a vital part of me.

All the while screaming for some form of release.

‘Someone fucking save me from this hell.’

Yet I know no one will.

I am all alone with a dull blade.

Ready to cut but can’t seem to figure out where.

I want it to hurt

I need it to hurt

I can feel it before I start to slice.

Take awhile to get things right.

Decided to just push with all my might

Since I made them hide the good knives.

Tiles floors splattered red

Favorite place cause the walls always stare

I like to think that this is the only room that care

It burns inside of me now

The urge to cut till I am there

Holding a dull blade against my vitals

Screaming for some release

‘You had your chance to fucking save me’

Though I know no one is there

A cut that is quickly fading

The door tells me what a good girl I am

Blocked Heart

In my home there is a closet that houses the true me. The side not many see for fear that they will leave. Inside this closet, so tall and dark, lies a chest where I have locked up my heart. I pass it often to and hear the beating within. I ignore so my true self won’t win. See it wants out. It is not afraid. It wants to show the world who I truly am. I fight everyday, trying to keep it all inside. Making sure the key is always in my sight. One day I got distracted and someone wheedled themselves in. Took my heart from me and tried to keep it with them. I tried to fight them hurt them in every way I could. But they where strong and never gave up. They say my true self and never judged. Oh did it hurt, to be this bare. To have someone know, to have them always there. Always watching, always listening, always talking, so much noise. I felt like I lost a life I never allowed myself to leave. The true me was content though; my heart was loved. My body may have felt shamed but my heart was loved.

To this very day I fight them. I want it back, while I am happy, I still crave the hate. It is easier to bear. Easier than dealing with this unknown love and having someone there.