My Father rang me today and said I Love You. This made me feel like crying.
Because there are so many things I want to say to so many people, but they are my friends and they have their own burdens, so I bite down on my tongue and smile because I am a good person and that is what good people do. But I have not felt like myself for some time now. My existence feels like a constant state of half-awake, half-dreaming and it feels perpetual and never-ending. And I have an ugliness hiding just below the surface of my skin, tucked away between my ribs, stealing the color from my cheeks. What was once safely kept, I am now finding very hard to ignore. It is no longer in the background. It is the Prominent in my vision. It is the disagreeable, loveless side of Me. It places its hands on its hips, points out my flaws and I see them, my God, can I see them.
Rest my head against the shower wall and cry. I always hated public displays of emotion. But this was silent, this was safe. I feel my eyes close tight, can't bear seeing what's there, and I will them to stay that way. I don't want to eat anymore. I wish I could hate someone else instead of this part of me. Because this body is a cage. An empty enclosure, but a cage nonetheless.
Here's a secret - I killed someone once. I did not know their name, had never seen their face, and let my body drown and suffocate them until they ceased to be. And I will tell you now, I feel this disgusting guilt over the act. The only places left in me are places worth dying in. I should have known never to trust my body to do what it's supposed to. It holds a stubbornness that surprises me. I am sorry, fuck, I am so sorry.
I'm scared, that's what this is. I'm scared that I'll forget about how nice it is to be outside, alive. Or it will be 4am and people will be asleep and it would be so easy to do. I am not myself when I am on my own and exhausted. And I am always alone now (and always exhausted), because no one understands what this feels like. This 'Me' that isn't, this 'Me' they did not become friends with. This 'Me' I had sworn I had forgotten, I had tried so hard to conceal and bury. Because she is selfish and she is a liar and she will do what she wants when things get too difficult and the easy way out is at the end of the hall with the door locked. This is not a cry for help, this is the 'Me' telling the 'You' that everything is fucking scary. Because my toes are at the edge and I've done this before.
Also, I should have kept my mouth shut. I can't write anymore, all these words are laughing at me and everything feels fake. They say pain and sadness makes you creative, but I feel empty. I knew this would happen.