This story is basically me from Jimin's point of view, I'm just gonna vent here. Hope you don't mind, also I'm already giving a trigger warning here for the whole book since there's going to be a lot of angst so yeah, read at your own risk. I love you all, take care of yourself
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It didn't matter to me. None of it did. I could hear a faint voice in the back of my head telling me that I needed to take care of myself but it was too far away. It was almost as if I had to strain to hear it, like a faded whisper that lingered somewhere in my head, coming up every now and then. I knew it was getting bad again. No matter how many times I squeezed my eyes and shut and told myself that I was letting my mind get the better of me, I couldn't escape reality. And being in denial wasn't going to get me anywhere. But I'm too weak. Too tired to admit that I'm slowly starting to slip back into the same dark void again. I can't fight it off, and it kills me. It kills me to see how vulnerable and pathetic I am.
Do you know how hard it gets to breathe when you're at your worst again? It's like your lungs are choking you, no matter how hard you try to stable your breathing, it comes out it in ragged breaths and before you realize it, you're sobbing. Maybe it's the pills in your system, finally displaying the after-effects of overdosing. Or maybe it's because you sliced your skin too deep, the sight of the red liquid oozing out of the wound and down your leg making you remember the last time you relapsed which ended in you not being able to walk for a week. Or maybe it's because you looked at yourself in the mirror and all you saw was a disgusting excuse of a human being. Or maybe...maybe it's because you can feel it. You can feel it getting bad again. You can feel the way you're losing yourself all over again. You can't remember the last time you ate a meal without throwing up. You can't remember the last time you looked at a razor, without wanting to cut yourself open. You can't remember what being happy felt like. It's like you're drained. Empty. Numb.
I just feel so tired. Not the kind of tired where it can be cured if you rest and go to sleep. No, this tired doesn't have a cure. It's like my body shuts down. My shoulders sag in defeat after all the fighting I've done with my own self, leaving me weak. I feel drained, as if every ounce of energy in my body has been sucked out and now all there's left is this empty space, longing to be filled with something,anything. But it doesn't. It stays like that for so long, I feel like I'm never going to feel anything again. My mind wanders to places it shouldn't. I try to stop myself from steering towards something that will leave me helpless. But I accepted the fact long ago that self-control isn't my thing. It never was and I don't think it ever will be. I don't even fight back when I feel myself drowning in the darkness that slowly engulfs me, taking it's sweet time to takeover every inch of my body until I'm sure there's not a ray of light left in me. I let it consume me, knowing there's no point in trying.
I'm past survival.
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what a short chapter, i am ashamed of myself smh but my head hurts i rly can't write anymore so maybe i'll update tomorrow anyways gtg
