Ok… so there is more than one annoying thing in this world but this just happens to be the latest. The quote that I use “And I find it kind of funny I find it kind of sad The dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had” IS NOT FROM DONNY DARKO… not that I object to that movie it is not why I like that quote. The quote existed long before the movie and I use it because it is from a scene in a television show that sparked emotion in me. It made a kind of sense in a way that made me remember it. It being used for the movie Donny Darko makes no sense at all considering the movie and the song. Now that I am not sure if that makes much sense I am going to stop ranting about it now…
I have often said that suicide is the point where a persons pain outweighs their ability to cope. Some of us cut ourselves for that endorphin rush that follows. The physical pain outweighs the emotional for just a while. It soothes what is wrong with us. Those of use who cut know why we do it. Those that don’t will never understand the brief respite that it brings.
As all of you have probably guessed I include pictures with many of my posts. These are pictures that affected me in one way or another. They meant something to me. I have been looking for one in particular. It seems that no one has been able to capture the haunted hunted look that I see in my eyes when I look in the mirror. Perhaps that is why I stay away from mirrors.
People see the scars and ask. I tell them that yes I did it to myself, yes I had a reason, and yes I wear the scars proudly. They are a sign that I am still alive, still me, and still breathing for the moment.
I have been asked why I don’t raise my voice and why I don’t scream. I don’t scream because I am afraid I might never stop.
An empty room with an empty girl sits silently on the floor she stares at the exposed skin and drags the blade and presses in the comfort that this action brings are worth the scars that will not have the chance to heal soon she will know what it is like not to feel.
Suicide happens when the depression outweighs your ability to cope.
How do you tell someone that you care about that you are broken? That you can never be what they want you to be because like a toddler’s toy you’ve been used and thrown away. Fractured would be the word for it. When you do find that last vestige of courage in yourself to tell them they look at you strangely and deny what you know to be true.
- I know that I will eventually kill myself although I don’t know how or when
- I know that I don’t ever get angry – frustrated maybe, upset definitely, but never angry
- I know that there are some people who are not meant to exist in this world and I am one of them.
- I know that I am not like others, I accept who and what I am and I know my fate
One kind word from him, one spark of interest although welcomed with open arms would fracture me into thousands of shards of mirrored glass. Why is it the ones we choose to love hurt us the most?
I don’t look at myself in the mirror anymore, I haven’t in a long time. From what should be one image all I see are the cracks reflected at hundreds of different angles. I was beautiful once, confident, quick to smile. A picture frozen in time. Then something inside me started to crack, it was a tiny fissure once but like ice under too much pressure it began to shatter. Now I know that I am ugly the scars tell me so. The people around me tell me with their eyes and bodies every day. I am not sure how long I can hold on like this.
Just the images that dance in my head are enough to make someone scream. The people around me either ignore it, are afraid of it, or can’t stand it. They only see what they choose to see.
“And I find it kind of funny I find it kind of sad The dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had” Gary Jules – Mad World
I have never gone on a “date.” People don’t notice me. I will never get married, I will never have anyone to take care of me. Some speak of growing old together but I will never grow old. There is something deep inside that is broken and it only hurts when I breathe.
Have you ever seen something so horrible that at first your mind refuses to recognize that what you are staring at used to be human. A live and breathing thing with laughter, love, and hope. Your mind hesitates but it is there to work out what it is, even then you realize that you probably don’t want to make sense of it. It takes a minute for your mind to adjust and believe what it is being shown through your eyes. Things start to look like they make sense but are in the wrong places, mangled. There is a fleeting moment when you realize that somethings are just not to be seen and recognized. This is when you realize that you cannot unsee the image. It imprints itself into your head waiting for you to close your eyes.
There is no way to cleanse that memory from your brain. Some things are just not meant to be seen.