Mentally Disordered - Tumblr Posts

Every emotion I feel runs through me in such a deep, electrifying way. I am realizing that the reason I so often describe my emotional state as sadness is because everything I feel registers on that end simply due to the power behind the emotions. Like right now for instance, I am feeling love, but I feel it so strongly that it hurts. I am such a stupidly sensitive person and all of my emotions are so strong and unsettling that they all feel painful to me. Because they are painful to handle, painful to process, painful to deal with, painful to accept. Happiness, joy, love, jealousy, grief, regret, fear, anxiety. It will all always be “sadness” to me.

I am in a fight with life. I resist it and resist it and resist it. I claw at life with my sharpest daggers and rip at it with my teeth until the blood drips down my chin. I am like an infant, always wailing and screaming. When life asks what I want, I do not say anything. I just keep on crying. Life wants me to live but I do everything in my power not to.

Each time the sun emerges, peeking through the cracks in the clouds, I press my mouth to the warmth and suck it dry. I jump at the light, as if racing everyone around me to see who can reach it first. I grab as much of it in my hands as I can hold, hoping I have enough tenderness to sustain me until the sun shows it’s face again.

When I wanted to go away, it was not because I wanted to die. I hoped that the gritty dirt would take me back warmly, happily house my tired bones. I wanted death to greet me with a smile. I wanted someone to want me. I wanted someone to hold me. I was so worn down, my bones could hardly hold up the weight of my body. All I wanted was to rest in a place where I was known. I wanted to descend back to where I came from. I wanted to see if the earth remembered who I was before the world got to me. If the earth remembered, there was a chance at getting her back.

Idk what it is but every time I finally feel motivated and inspired it only lasts for a short period. A few days, a week if I’m lucky. Then I fall back into depression. There’s no particular reason, I just end up feeling discouraged and hopeless again. It is so draining to move through this constant cycle. It feels like something is wrong w me. Im feeling very very somber tonight

My mind is like a constant stream of “I can’t live. I can’t live. I can’t live. I can’t.” followed by the pleading “you must live. you must live. you must.”

I think my room is as lonely as I am. I feel it in the air when I walk through the door. The sort of unbearable, deep melancholy (the same kind that I fear people feel when they are around me). I smell the rot in the walls— the dirty, grotesque mold making it’s home there. It is always dark, even with the light on. Dark, and cold. I am describing my room. I am afraid that I am also describing myself.

I spread the salt around my body. A perfect circle, cloak of protection, a shield. I protect myself from myself. There is a monster somewhere. There is a monster here and it is me. I am a monster. Or there is a monster in me. I am not sure which is worse. I am scared of what the monster will do. I am scared of what it will do to me. I am scared of what is to come.

Who’s loneliness is up manifesting itself as a prolonged, deep pain in their chest?

I cannot do it anymore. I cannot open my heart to the darkness of the world. What hurts more than anything is that I know this is not true. I know that I will. I will let someone see my soul again. I will lay myself out bare for them to see. They will rip me apart. It will hurt bad. I will bleed all over. I know all of this. I wish I meant it when I say I cannot do it again. I wish I could abstain. I wish I was not so hungry. But I am starving, and I must eat.

Every single month I am like “wow why am I going insane? I actually want to k*ll myself. I cannot be alive. I cannot do anything. I am the loneliest person in the entire universe.” And then I look at my tracker and it’s like “period in 1 day”

I hid for so long. In the corners of rooms, under the bed, behind a mask, beneath darkness. I was just there wanting. Wanting to be found. Wanting you to find me. It’s been a few years now. I’m a bit older and my hair is longer. There are new creases around my eyes. I don’t hide in the corners anymore. I had to do it myself. I had to pull myself from the darkness. I wish you could’ve found me. I wish someone could have helped me out.

It’s so hard to see any hope in my relationship with my parents. Each time I speak to them, no matter how much I try to deny it, it is so evident that I am seeking their approval. I want them to be proud of me. I want them to see me. I casually bring up how my competition season is going well, or a good grade I got on a test, or a nice moment with a friend. It somehow always seems that they are either not listening/don’t care, they turn it into an insult, or they refuse to see me in the light of someone caring and intelligent. My sisters are always better than me, worth more than me. My sister mentions her good grade, my mom tells her that she told everyone at work and my dad congratulates her. Then I tell them about my good grade, saying I’m smart too, and they laugh at me and don’t respond with any ounce of congratulations or pride. I feel invisible. They reduce me to something less than I am. They make me feel small. They will never see me. I have such depth, intelligence, and emotional capacity as a person…but they will never choose to see me in a way that isn’t negative.

just can’t express how deeply, how passionately I want…to be good. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I never want to do anything that makes someone feel worthless or invisible or ugly or gross or uncomfortable. I can’t stand it that it’s impossible. It hurts so much to know I have made people feel like this and I will again in the future, knowingly and unknowingly. I want to be good. I want to be light. I want to make people feel loved and beautiful and worth it. I feel like it’s not enough. What I am…is not enough. I need to do more. I need to be more. I need to be better.

I woke up the next morning. My pupils opened up toward the glow of the sun and I had lived to see another day. Just the night before, I had said my goodbyes. I had shed my last tear. I had made peace with my time in the world. But…my blood was still warm when I opened my eyes.

“You have been given another chance to live!” My sister wept. The words echoed in the back of my mind.

“But I don’t want to live.” I whispered. She never heard what I said.

Sometimes it hits me right in the face just how lonely I am. I am so lonely. Do you know how it feels? To exist in a world where you know that nobody knows you closely, not even a little bit? To know that if you died today, nobody would know what your favorite movie was or what your favorite song was or how you like your tea? Do you really know how it feels? To watch your friends spend their weekends together, laughing and going out, while you sit in your room rotting away? To eat dinner alone every lonesome night while you hear the echoes of your family in the dining room? I am isolated, so othered. It is not just that I am lonely. I no longer feel like a person, I feel as though I do not exist. Each day it feels as though I am being erased. I am the only one who can preserve me. I am the only one who can remember my favorite movie and my favorite song and how I like my tea. If I forget those details, they are gone. I exist only within the realm of myself. If I am removed from the equation, I do not exist. Do you understand? Do you really, truly get it?

Is it just me or is anyone else absolutely terrified of any and all forms of intimacy???? like when I had my first kiss, I wasn’t excited or giddy, I was literally shaking with anxiety. Idk why. Like I was so worried that I wouldn’t know how to kiss or that the kiss would be bad and it would be the one thing to send this person off.

Oh. I see…this is an abandonment issues thing. Of course. It’s always the abandonment issues

I am seventeen and spending Thanksgiving all alone. I am the loneliest girl in the world.

thanksgiving 2006 by Ocean Vuong

I keep having this moment and it feels so light and airy and special. It feels like a sigh of relief, like that moment when you lay down in bed after a long day and feel your muscles exhale. Last year, on my way home for Christmas, I was begging my parents to get me help because I felt so suicidal and burdened with depression. This year, after a suicide attempt and long recovery, I finally feel happy. I don’t know when and I don’t know how, but at some point, lightness slipped back into my mind and made its home there. I can’t help but be brought to tears at the beauty of it all. I’m still here. I’m still here. Against my will. I fought hard to leave and some part of me saved me. Something in me kept me alive and brought me to this moment. To this joy. To this peace. I am grateful for that now, though there was a point in my life where I wouldn’t have been. It is truly a miracle that I survived and I feel that in every molecule of my body.