Unsavoury

You only come around when it's favourable for you. Never when I need you. Or when I want you to. You command me to behave and listen to you like you know what is good for me. You always persuaded me with your words of concern. Convinced me that you actually desire some sort of friendship.

I should of known better when you decided to date that girl and dropped me from your radar. Of course you managed to manipulated her to be in an open relationship that she was clearly uncomfortable with. You repeatedly messaged me as if everything was fine. I wasn't going to be your side-bitch. She didn't deserve that. She was devoted to you. 

An anonymous warned me about you. How history repeats itself. To be wary and how I shouldn't be strung along and mislead by your false words. How I deserved better.

I do deserve better. I deserve more than you.  

Residence

It felt good at first... But when I awoke to find out it wasn't a dream but instead your filthy hands in my pants, I trembled in fear. I froze not understanding what was happening. How could you let this happen to you. No amount of overthinking, preparation or past trauma could of changed what has happened. You were heavy and I pushed your arm off.

Little did I know that weight would follow me around and continue to bring me down. 

If the police didn't take you away that night... You would of had fatherless children and I would be sitting in a confide vault stranded with just my thoughts. Not much different than I am now. Except I wouldn't need to hear you deny what you did anymore. You wouldn't say anything anymore. You deserve that. Best possibility of closure I will ever reach. 

Prolix

I enjoyed going to school but hated attending the classes in fear of failure. I suppose I just wanted to get away from home. I remember how tortuous Saturdays were. We'd go grocery shopping but come home to an empty home. Hoarding to fill the void. There was no room. No give. Nothing.

Here I am, 23 years of age and still can't shake suicide off my plate. I don't cut as often but still enjoy pulling scabs off my skin like a zipper. Depression has matured into remorse and I have grown into a broken adult with the heart of an infant. It remains unspoken and everything remains to hurt. 

I recall wanting to kill my mother when I was very young. I made the steps towards it. It's discomforting not knowing that pathway. I can hear the thoughts fighting for it. 

I remember making a promise to kill myself before I turned 18 and then again at 21. I'm just finished. I'm done murmuring and holding myself to sleep. I'm so tired and no amount of sleep will change that.

It's not giving up. Just giving in.

Just for a little bit.

Cemented

On 8th of April 2018, I was admitted to Royal North Shore Hospital for an overdose. I hate how it felt. I slept for days. I don't remember the interactions. It was all very fragmented. I remember nurses yelling at me trying to wake me up and a nurse digging his elbow into my chest to gain some sort of conscienceness but that's all I remember.

I became responsive a couple days later. It felt like I was comatose. I was angry that I wasn't dead but didn't want to go through the process of dying. I was transferred to Hornsby Ku-ring-gai Hospital. I still hate psychiatrists. I despised talking to Anila Jacobs (I think that was the doctor's name) the most. She ultimately made things worst by the time it got to week 4 of my hospital admission.

(I later found out she was on leave and things actually felt dramatically better)

I was seeing and hearings things again but it was different. My memory became spotty but I vividly remember my obsession with the water there and how it was making me worst. More paranoid thoughts continued to seep through. My distrust in all the doctors and nurses made it so I lied about everything. I know some of the nurses tried to the best of their resources. It just felt like a holding cell. I was drowning.

By the end of it I was to worn out to even think about killing myself (or even telling the nurses what I felt), was labelled a violent/aggresive/hostile/abusive patient and felt worst leaving than I did going in. I felt PECC was a good change of ward for me but I was still discharged with no changes to my mental health state. I can only wait until the next relapse occurs. 

It is utterly exhausting and draining living in a near constant state of fight or flight but I want to continue to believe the fire in me burns brighter than the fire around me. It's all I got left.