Reality.
For as long as I can remember I never fully felt happy. Those small, short moments flashing before my eyes, bringing hope and disappearing in a blink of an eye. Both mental and physical abuse, bullying, suicidal thoughts and self harm, mental illnesses, eating disorder and being the total opposite of what my parents expect form me, being the family disappointment. I've been feeling it all for so long that when I actually get better the feeling is strange, forgotten and unfamiliar. There's always the thought in the back of my head that it's wrong and it'll get worse really soon. And it happens- again, again and again...
Waking up.
Every morning is a new hell. I always sleep in late so I could get at least a few more hours of this beautiful feeling of death without the commitment. I do it also to skip breakfast- one less meal to stress about. And when I finally gather the energy to get out of bed I'm greeted by my family with laughter, rude comments and all of them suddenly mad at me.
The day.
Constant arguing, shouting and insulting- those are the mandatory elements of my everyday life. When I should be getting better they decided to really put me even deeper into my depression. Meals- another living hell of my day. When my head tells me to never put anything else in my mouth and to eat till I physically can't anymore at the same time.
,, You're a fat pig that eats all the time and then complains about it. Suck it up and stop eating!"
Peace.
Only when I finally get to my room I can actually feel at peace. The lock on my door saved me so many times. It's an assurance, a promise- that I can be myself and relax without having to constantly worry. It's my safe space that truly feels like home. When I'm alone I finally can do what I love without feeling like I'm waisting my time and that I should do something productive instead. It's the place where I can be calm, mad, tired, sad and if it ever happens I can be happy...
When the sun sets.
The nights are the worst. All the emotions from the whole day run wild and the overthinking begins. The darkness and silence don't help with calming my thoughts. It got so bad I can't even fall asleep without my headphones because my head gets too loud. That's also the time when I usually reach for the blade of my scissors because I'm so fragile and pathetic I can't even handle the feeling of actually cutting myself.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
Seven lines.
Seven reasons why I shouldn't be alive.
Seven days I wish I wasn't here to witness.
Seven next days I hope I won't wake up for.
YOU ARE READING
The Stories In My Head
Short StoryThe story includes topics of self-harm and suicide!!!! My feelings are getting out of hand so instead of hurting myself I decided to tell stories. Some more or less true but mostly portraying what's going on in my mind.
