For everyone whose ever picked up that blade, and questioned your existence

This is the first time I will have publicly written about anything. And it’s not just anything. My most inner thoughts, the things that pain me, the things I write in my journal… the words I have never spoken. All of these years, I’ve always had so much to say, but never the courage to speak them.

Since before I can even remember, six or seven years old, I’ve been scared. Scared that I couldn’t reach out, because every time I tried, I was brutally reminded why I couldn’t. A young and innocent child, living in a world of pain, a hell on earth so to speak, and I tried and I tried and I tried. I tried to reach out, to my dad, to my sister, to teachers and kids at school. In rational ways, and irrational ways. I was screaming and grasping for air, drowning in pain and I was so young that there wasn’t any other thing. There was no way out. No fresh air. Just pain, and more pain, and when it went away, it came right back again. I don’t know when I told myself that I couldn’t trust women, but I did. And I think a part of that, was me becoming too trusting in men. Two women broke me, and though I am now old enough to recognize these feelings, I was molded at such a young age that I don’t believe I know how to change. I don’t know how to hold onto a best friend, never have. I look at the girls my age, and I remember the girl who bullied me in first grade. Told me that my mom killed herself because she hated me so much, said I deserved it. That I deserved being alone. I know It’s not true, my mom didn’t kill herself, and if she had, it still wouldn’t be my fault…. And I look at my boyfriend, and I’m so happy with him, so happy, but there’s that lingering thought in the back of my head. That I don’t deserve it. That I’m not worth it. I deserve to be alone. Why else would my mom have left? Why does EVERYONE leave? I don’t have these answers. I don’t know how to put these thoughts into words. I can’t speak them, the smallest utterance and it’s real. It’s real, and once you say these things, you can never go back. These things that happen, you can’t take them back.

So why I am still living in this prison? I have such a beautiful mind. And such a large heart. I see so much beauty in the world, but I can’t escape this darkness. Why do I feel so alone, when I’m surrounded by so many people who love me? Why do I act out, and push people away? How do you stop something when you feel so out of control? I just want to be able to tell these people, that I love them and I care, and I’m trying to make a difference, but I’m still that little girl. I’m still hurting, and I need them to fight for me. Because I can’t fight for myself.

For the first time, in a very very long time, I put a razor to skin tonight, and I thought to myself that I’m so lonely and I’m so sad and I don’t want to do it anymore. I thought, I don’t want to eat anymore. I don’t want any of it. I don’t want to keep fighting when no one fights for me. I don’t want to live in a world where people call me cancer and tell me I’m not good enough. And It’s not fair, to assume that everyone will just understand, because people don’t. I suppose you have to experience these things, feel these things to understand it. To look at these crippled and broken words and not judge, and not say that it’s crazy.

But then who do you speak to? When these words are all you have, but you’re too afraid to speak them. When you want to look at the person next to you so bad, and say what you have to say, but when you try nothing comes out. Silence. Bitter fucking silence. And so I guess I don’t know what to else to do right now, so I’m reaching out, to all of the girls and boys on tumblr, facebook, instagram, who are scared too. Who picked up a blade tonight and questioned you’re existence. I’m posting this for you.

As I write this, not knowing if It makes sense, if it will be heard, I feel relief. Because I can’t hold onto to it anymore. The anger, the pain, the hate. I have to let it go, or its gonna kill me.

I didn’t use that blade. And I have no intentions too.
It’s complicated, when you feel so blessed and at the same time so broken.
And it’s really, really hard, when people look at you, and they see strength and beauty and they think thats it. That that’s good enough. Sometimes strength fails. And sometimes you feel anything but beautiful. And it’s so hard. But I did it.
I put down that blade and I turned to the one thing I knew would help.. writing.
I’m writing this for me, but I’m posting it for you.
Because life is so damn beautiful, and it wouldn’t be the same without you.
For everyone out there who knows this pain, whose felt this endless sadness,
You are worth it.
Even when everyone tells you otherwise.

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