Pieces of my life and the wounds they have created.

It will never cease to amaze me that some people- some special, bright, and beautiful individuals- can exist. The words they allow to spill from their lips onto the canvas of other people's lives, the hope that their simple existence can bring, the wisdom stored inside of them from everything they have been through....it will never cease to amaze me. These people are everywhere, wrapped up in little cacoons and veils of light. Sometimes we can easily spot them. We hope to meet them, to befriend them, to simply be able to have known them- at least I desire to have the privilege to know such people. Meanwhile, there are others that are more difficult to spot. Not so much as a shining beacon, but like water. Necessary, beautiful, reflective, deep, changing everything around it, changing itself, sustaining, understanding in how it almost caresses the object of it's present affection. I cannot even begin to describe these people. They bring hope. Both types bring so much hope and inspiration and joy. Just a single smile can bring a smile to a tear-stained face. Just a single one. And while I wish that these people, once met and integrated into my life, could remain with me I have come to realize that they simply cannot. They are like rain. Beautiful, telling their stories and sharing past wisdom as they pass....but they do have to pass. They have to continue forward, no doubt touching others in this world, because that is who they are. They are the bandages to a broken world. They are the embrace to a lonely heart. They are hope to a lost soul. They are joy to a beaten and depressed mind. And while I desire it for them to stay I know they have to go.
            As sad as the occasion always turns out to be I always watch the forever traveling footfalls of that new-turned-old friend. In the blink of an eye they leave, but the memory remains. Like a planted seed...the hope grows up in the spring with every water of the memory and after every cold winter. These people are not simply forgotten. Sometimes our paths cross again, many years later. It is these unexpected reunions that hold the world for me. Once again seeing a person who filled me with such hope, who brought me such joy, who pulled me from underneath the waves and into the sun once again....It's a breath of fresh air. A reminder and a testament to who I was and who I am and who I can become. It reminds me of my old dreams.
            I guess tonight is a meloncholy night, a lonely one. Scattered with minor chords constructed of bittersweet memories. I'm not really sure what I feel tonight, what my heart possesses in it's depths in the current moment. I find it difficult to capture my heart. To hold it up to a light and reveal everything inside. To write every single confession out is one thing, to share those confessions is another. An event like that is so rare, as I am usually very reserved in what I reveal about myself. Even now I am with-holding an immense amount of information- confusion, hurt, exhaustion, new found hope. Yes, hope. Not every emotion in life is negative, though  I sometimes lose sight of that.
            I guess I've been struggling a lot lately with my identity and my spirituality. As far as my identity goes, it's safe to say that I am completely lost. I don't know who I am and I can't seem to come to terms with that as of now. Maybe, when I learn to be content with who I am in the current moment, I'll learn to be okay with not knowing every little thing in my life and every little thing about who I am "supposed" to be. No....I'm not "supposed" to be anyone. I am myself and it is that simple. Now I just need to learn how to love that person. How to be proud with that person. How to be okay with who I am as a human being. When I say that I am struggling with my identity, I mean that in many different ways. I struggle with what I will eventually do with my future- college, career, family, etc. I'm lost in that department and I am willing to say that I am lost because I do not have enough confidence in myself to pursue any of the things that I love. That lack of confidence will always stand in the way of my dreams, so that is something that I will have to progressively have to work on. Teaching myself to think differently, to see myself differently. But when I say that I am struggling with my identity, I also mean that I am simply struggling with my sexual identity. While that particular identity is just a single part of who I am, I am getting lost in all of the confusion and possible labels and my desire to just know. If I'm completely honest, I'm pretty sure I know the answer to the big question. However, I don't want to say it out loud. I don't want to admit it. There is a point where it goes from trying to accept myself, to trying to fit this new idea of myself into the old mold of who I was. Now...here's the funny thing, ironic really, I constantly get hung up on how a person's sexual identity doesn't change who they are as a person....yet here I am, unable to accept myself if my thoughts are true. I have been raised my entire life in a christian home. In a christian home that is very divided on this subject. My father is against it; he believes it to be a sin, an unforgivable one at that. To him I would go to hell for loving who I love, even though I cannot change that. Now, I can understand why he believes this. I really can. We all have a choice. We can control whether or not we act on our desires. I could choose to marry a man someday, have kids, and try to live a happy, "normal" life. Yet....I doubt that I'd actually ever be happy that way. I have fought these feelings for around 4-5 years now and it's wearing me down. I'm so worn down now and unhappy. Hiding it, constantly fighting it, dealing with the internal struggle between religion and love, always being paranoid that someone will find out, being terrified of losing friends....it's stressful and tiring and enervating and hopeless and it just hurts so much. The pain sears through every little happy moment of a day simply because I feel out of place, wrong, deceitful, manipulative, and ashamed. There have been many days where I have wanted to end my life because of how alone and simply wrong I've felt. It's difficult to not even be able to accept yourself. I'm afraid to. And I'm honestly so confused. Finally, my spiritual life has altogether crashed and in burned. In the midst of my sexual struggle I allowed myself to slip away from God. I felt to ashamed and condemned and out of place in any institution devoted to religion. I felt as though I couldn't be around my friends from church because it felt as though I were lying to them. Also, a lot of events went down at my old church and my family decided to leave the home church to go to a separate campus, one on it's own. This arrangement worked for awhile, but I still felt the sting of what I saw at the time as a betrayal. With that fresh wound, and with the annoyance of my parents, we eventually left the church. We set out looking for a new church to attend. We tried places like the Refuge, University City, Trinity Church, Living Water. However, we never settled at any one place (and we still haven't), so I continued to drift further and further away. At some point I didn't want to go back. I got to the point where my heart was so hardened and skeptical that I did not want to be a part of religion anymore. I was tired of the droll show and dance of the churches I'd been to. I was tired of the constant judgement and playing face to keep appearances. I was just tired. So I stayed away for nearly a year, maybe longer. To appease my parents, I would attend whenever they decided that they wanted to go one Sunday. However, the words of the worship team and the pastor always fell on deaf ears. Nothing got to me. I wouldn't let anything in. Even now I am drifting, but I am attempting to reel myself back in. Hopefully, if I can move past this enormous loss of self, I can return. But I am still questioning myself. I am still questioning my beliefs. I am still in pain.
            I guess this was all just a big explaination of one of the things that has been occuring in my life. If you read this all, thank you. I know it contained random subject jumps. Thank you for hanging with me. Hopefully you had/have a good day.

~Amanda

A Sleepless Mind.

It's 2:15a.m. and, as usual, I'm sitting here awake. Listening to music, writing, thinking....Always thinking. Tomorrow...well, today I guess...our marching band will be traveling to Florida to perform in the night lights parade at Disney. Left on my to-do list are numerous tasks: I need to pack by 4 a.m., finish two APUSH assignments, read chapter 15 in the APUSH textbook, read the final portion of a chapter in my AP Psychology textbook, email Jack the analysis questions for pre-calculus, study for the H. Chem test tomorrow. Sleep is not included. At this point sleep is not an option. Much like earlier today lunch was not an option, nor breakfast. There simply are not enough hours in a single day.
           I've never been one to actually look tired, but I'm beginning to look exhausted. Everything is finally wearing on me physically. Normally it just manifests as weakness in certain muscles, multiple headaches, or shortness of breath. Lately though other things are being thrown into the mix: difficultly focusing, lack of motivation, a decrease in grades, lack of appetite, and even difficulty sleeping (which sounds strange, I know). I've always felt drained, but I've never looked this tired. I'd be alarmed if it wasn't expected.
          This is going to be extremely random, but I'm going to add some lyrics to two songs I've come to love of late. For the sole purpose of expressing what I can't put into words.

"And so the sky becomes a dream
I never dreamt because I'm just too busy
Waiting for nothing and wasting away
And so the sky it watched my dreams
Fall to pieces right in front of me
Cause I'm just too busy
Waiting for nothing and wasting away

And I'd never wish for anything more
Than to find what I've been looking for
And I swore to myself I wouldn't lie to myself
How could I let this happen?"

"Whatever happened to our inner glow
Whatever happened to the song the soul the me i used to know
Whatever happened to my radio
Whatever happened to my song
It is my song"

Jagged thoughts, Falling sentiments.

Covered in zippered patterns. I'm covered in criss-crossing, self-made seams. At a time I believed I could find the reason, discover the origin, of the searing pain seeping through my veins. It was at this task that I failed and the result is hundreds of white lines. You would think that I learned my lesson from those numerous trials before, but I haven't. On top of the seams are angry red lines screaming accusations, erasing who I am as a person and transforming me into an apathetic shell.
             Now, before my mind runs away with the ugly truth that has left an impression on my heart, my body attempts to fight. But, like every vain attempt before, it fails.......

It's sad really. I cannot even write anymore. My thoughts are short, jagged, cut-off, and forlorn. No coherent emotion braves the winter in my mind long enough for the pencil in my hand to capture them. All form of salvation blurs into the mud with trailing tears and passing raindrops. Even now I'm running out of words to say. My sentences are less enlightening, less creative, less expressive. The intelligence that I used to enjoy has seemingly faded. I'm not even average at this point, just....existing. Tell me one thing, please just explain to me this one tragedy- how can a writer, void of all words and wandering without any passion, continue to live? How is a fate so dulled from it's prior standing bearable? This is no way to live. It isn't bearable to me.

I recognize my meandering thoughts and random beginnings, but I myself am wandering with them. Therefore I cannot begin to correct them, cannot elaborate on their underlying meaning.

Every time I gather the energy and conviction to write, I am crushed by negative sentiments. "It's pointless. It's not good enough. Why would anyone care? You're just a whiny little bitch. You could never be a writer. You'll never be anything." My pieces are only second-rate, my paragraphs elementary. The syntax and diction required of a great author cannot be found within my soul. The darkness infiltrated, filled up every remaining space, and, to my great horror, has now pushed out some of the inspiration and artistry that used to reside in that vessel. I cannot stand this loss, and it is a loss. The only things I ever truly valued in myself were intelligence and creativity....both of which have progressively slipped from my tightening fingers. Dreams that have frozen over and fallen, shattering on the rock beneath my feet- the stone of the edge of the cliff. It was in this place that I always found solace, comfort, inspiration, beauty, meaning. In it's present state, this little parcel of cold stone is just an empty shrine to what used to exist.

My deepest sympathy for the dreams I have allowed to die.

Pointless Struggle

What do you do when you look in the mirror and the sudden rush of hate for what you see causes your eyes to sting? When just staring at that reflection, into those lifeless eyes, makes you feel physically ill? How disorienting it is, and I really doubt that you understand what it is that I'm trying to convey- unless, of course, you've stared back at yourself and no longer recognized the person on the glass. I couldn't begin to describe how hopeless things begin to look, how uninspiring, how dull. Staring into those eyes is like walking down a dark hall, adorned with pictures of all of your memories, and not feeling attached to anything- no emotion. Whether the memories are good or bad. You simply are not yourself. And in that moment of detachment you feel lost. The hall never seems to end, so you are wandering. Pointlessly down the same path the must've gotten you lost in the first place. No doors, no windows, no turns by which you can escape. So everthing becomes meaningless and you just walk numbly through the oblivion of your mind.
          Some say you are a victim, a prisoner, of your own mind. And I don't need to wonder why. I know the cold corridors of my own, the chains that my thoughts seem to grip to foolishly. I understand the complexity of an internal struggle and the exhaustion of the senseless fight. Getting nowhere. You're just stuck. You're alone inside your mind, inside yourself- even though you may be surrounded on the outside. You still always feel alone, and that's what matters to the corners and crevices of who you are. The emotions are the chains, the memories are the cells, and your thoughts are the crimes. You are your own warden, your own executioner. Don't trick yourself into believing something on the outside could bind you so completely. You are trapped by yourself- a very obviously equal opponent. Two parts of one, so how could you possibally win?

"Could I Ever Love Myself?"

There is a vastness stretching out before me
And I cannot see the other side of this canyon.
I'm in need of higher ground, in need of light.
This darkness has melted and merged into who I am,
And now it acts as a deadly poison.

I know every scar I bare is self-inflicted;
I realize I am a walking contradiction.
"Can anyone love something so beaten, so broken?"
The question echoes inside me-
Bouncing through a painfully vacant heart.

Another question has slowly surfaced and now it stares me in the face-
"Could I ever love myself with all the things inside me that I hate?"
How can I forget the past, one ingrained by pain?
All of the emptiness eating me now reaches through cold memories,
And even after years...I haven't discovered a way in which to escape it.

My elusive joy was buried long ago, in a child's box-
Filled with random trinkets and points of laughter.
It seems I can no longer remember the burial ground of that essential treasure.
After packing it all away and resigning myself to misery
I have forgotten every part of myself- now hidden away forever.

An emptiness resonating through my being-
Tearing me through a vortes of hopelessness; numbness.
There is no pain anymore, just a horrible longing
For everything that was, for what I could've been.
I'm so lost now and I possess no energy to return...

Broken and laying on the ground- tears softening the ground.
Softening the reality- I am going nowhere.
Why would I ever love an empty shell?
So, "Could I ever love myself?"...
With a defeated sigh you'll hear me whisper......"no, never."


~Amanda Jane Grondin~

Little Update

So, I honestly don't know what to write about this time. I'm not really feeling much- still. I know. It's a complete flatline. Anyways, I'm currently out of town, state, country. I'm sitting on the porch at the cottage in Canada on the big family reserve/campground. Everyone here is related to me in some shape or form. And there are a LOT of people here. I meet at least one new person- usually more than one- every year. I love being away from home. It seems like I can breathe easier, like I'm more comfortable. I'm more in control and I can think clearly. For the last week I have just enjoyed being here. Every one here speaks French, but I catch enough of it to know what's going on.
              Anyways, I don't really have much passion for anything anymore. I don't know. I know I'll find it again, but right now I just need time to recooperate I guess. I hope I find it again anyways....I don't want to be any more lost than I already am.

"Off With Her Head"


I'm lucky if I ever see the light of day again
My skin is choking me, my feeble walls are closing in
This cell is filled with scholars easing me, they're teasing me
They told me so I didn't know the fall would be this easy

How long until it starts to do me in
I can’t give out what I’m not breathing in
I know they'll come with what I'm owed, guilty as charged
My enemies belittle me reminding me the penalty of all my deeds despite my pleas is death

Don't let go ’cause I don't wanna be this, I don't wanna be this
Death is mine I know
Don't let go, don't let go
Save your own ’cause I don't wanna be this, I don't wanna be this
Death is mine I know
Don't let go, don't let go, savior

Your way to life has only showed me what a fool I am
It serves the purpose of confirming I remain condemned
And I will ever linger on the edge
Unless you hear me

How long until it starts to do me in
I can’t give out what I’m not breathing in
I know they'll come with what I'm owed, guilty as charged
My enemies belittle me reminding me the penalty of all my deeds despite my pleas is death

Don't let go ’cause I don't wanna be this, I don't wanna be this
Death is mine I know
Don't let go, don't let go
Save your own ’cause I don't wanna be this, I don't wanna be this
Death is mine I know
Don't let go, don't let go, savior

Don't let go ’cause I don't wanna be this, I don't wanna be this
Death is mine I know
Don't let go, don't let go
Save your own ’cause I don't wanna be this, I don't wanna be this
Death is mine I know
Don't let go, don't let go, save your own

~Artist: Icon For Hire~

 

 

Okay. So I am absolutely in love with this song and this band. This post IS a bit random, but I just thought I'd share the lyrics. Their other songs such as "Get Well", "The Grey", and "Iodine" are also beautifully written and brilliantly played by the band members. That's all for now....

 

I'm honestly just posting this because of how much I relate to the words. I understand the emotions running through the song. Do you ever feel that way just from listening to a song?

The Tears Can't Fall

So it'd seem that I can't even cry anymore. I mean...it's been this way for about two years, but it's just now starting to bother me. Crying is healthy. It cleanses the soul and provides a release for the person. I don't get that release. Even if I'm breaking down, laying on the floor in a crumpled mess....I can't really cry. Two, three, maybe four tears....and then nothing. Absolutely nothing. It just stops. I'm still heaving and racking and trying to physically hold myself together so I don't emotionally fall apart....but the tears aren't there. And I need them to be now. I need to let this all out. But it's like this: at first, I refused. I could still cry, but I wouldn't allow myself to. Now that I need to, I can't. My body doesn't allow it anymore because my mind has blocked it out for so long. The emotional pain is terrible and the sadness is there. It feels tangible. Like I could grab it and burn it....but at the same time, it's not there. Nothing is. I feel the pain, the echo of the emotion...but no emotion. And at this point, I doubt the fact that there is no emotion. No, I'm just shoving it all down inside myself in some forgotten little corner. Ignoring it. But, it's not a small little corner anymore. It's an ocean. An ocean bent on drowning me. Bent on killing me. And I'm so afraid to begin to face that ocean. So afraid to try to swim to land from a sinking ship. I'm so afraid that I'll get even more lost along the way, that I'll never make it, that I'll sink to the bottom and be forgotten, that I won't be able to handle it. I need to be able to handle it. I need to be strong. For those around me....for myself. I couldn't begin to tell you why I feel this way. I could never explain this in words. And you would never understand. I couldn't make you understand...unless you have experienced it before. And I hope, I pray, that you never know this hopeless, reckless abandon. It's possible to fight if you see an end....but what happens if you don't see an end?

Chains of Shame

You see, I have this little problem. The things I do make me feel so ashamed that I cannot face God knowing that I do them, but they are the very things that I find I am addicted to. The shame and guilt completely separate me from God. It makes me feel like I can't talk to him. I'll finally work up the courage to face him, to talk to him even, but then I feel like his anger is crushing me. Like his disappoint is too much for me to handle. Thing is, I've come to realize that these emotions that I've described him as having are just reflections of what I feel towards myself. I know how wrong the things I do are. I know.....and I hate myself for it. That anger is the hate, shame, and anger I feel towards myself. I felt it without having these things looming around me, but now they reside in my life and the despair grows and increases by tenfold in my heart. I know I need to get them out of my life, but how do I begin to do that if I can't even get myself to begin to face them? How, if I can't muster up enough dignity to ask God to help me with this? Because it has me so tightly. It's sharp claws are holding me to the dirt and I cannot convince myself to fight it- I deserve this. The shame, humilitation, and pain. Oh, how God must be anguished now. A once bright child, once burning for him and chasing him, is now lost in the dark- in thorns. How he must be stretching out for me, telling me to just take his hand, that it'll be okay. That I have the strength to fight with him, that I'm loved. But I'm having such a hard time pushing past the lies. Past my own numbness, my own guilt, and- if I'm honest- my own selfishness. That's right. These things are selfish. They are temporary releases, temporary distractions, temptations that are given in to. And they are sickening. I don't understand how he can even look at me anymore, how he can think about me. I am filthy. Degraded. Some ungodly spawn of this world now that I have walked away from him. I've lost my identity. I've lost it all. And now I am this horrid, self-indulging, trapped fool. I am a fool for this. And yet I am still, foolishly, following the wrong road. I am leading myself to the slaughter. I am allowing myself to die. I am gripping onto the darkness inside of me like a scared child who doesn't want to let go of their "blanky". It has become safe. It has become familiar. And I no longer know who I am without it. The only way for me to figure that out is to find my identity in God, follow him, and trust that. But it feels like I can't. I know that is probably completely ridiculous, but that's how it feels. I can't get rid of the way I feel towards myself. I can't throw off this apathy that I feel towards anything religious- there have been times where it has felt like hate towards those things. But that is only because of my own guilt and inability to connect with God as the people around me do- like I used to. I'm lost. I know how to start going back the way I came, starting back on a road that will bring me back to the living, but I'm afraid. I'm ashamed. And I'm being held down by so much.

I need to say this. This is the only place I can.

            I want to die. It's that simple. I don't want to kill myself, but I don't want to be here. A car accident, a slip and deadly fall...something. I don't really care to stay here anymore. My mind is killing me. Beating myself for the pain- hiding the bruises. Slamming my head against a wall- blasting music to cover the sound. Scraping my skin with my fingernails because there aren't any blades- stopping before it bleeds; preventing a scar. Looking for blades- seeing everything as a potential weapon and having to close my eyes to calm down. Burning paper to distract myself- accidently burning myself...and then wanting to. Driving a car- wanting to drive right off of the road. Riding a bike- wanting to pull in front of an oncoming car. Taking two pills for a headache- being tempted to down the whole thing. Taking a shower to relax- crying my eyes out silently, no one can ever hear. Staring at the ceiling for hours at night- never able to sleep. Looking in the mirror- hating every single part of me. Hating myself so much that it hurts. So much that I feel physically ill. This isn't living. I don't know what this is. It's abnormal. It's torture. I. Do. Not. Want. To. Go. On. Like. This. Anymore.

And so I'll die soon. Not physically, I don't think. But inside I'm still living, but whatever is there is dying. Quickly now. Without sound. Maybe it'll be better to be hallow. Insane, but numb. Just nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Nothing....

I don't want to kill myself, I just don't want to live.

Where is my HOPE?

Time is just flying by. Pressing forward, moving on and on. It has no rest, yet it never get tired. Instead it tires those who try to hold it. Time is flying by, and I'm sitting stagnant. Yes, it is my fault for being immobile. I cannot find the motivation for anything. I cannot see the point in anything. I'm not depressed, nor happy. Just....nothing. And it's a terrible, cold, and lonely nothing. People are around me and I can see them, but I still feel alone. Because no ones knows....because no one understands. Because I can't trust.
          I feel as though I should mention God again, because that's why I originally created this blog....haha, what a miserable fail that was. Anyways, my relationship with God is destroyed. I'm addicted to things he despises, shameful things. And I am ashamed. Too ashamed to fix my relationship with him. I'm slipping away so quickly. I don't recognize myself anymore...and that really scares me. How am I supposed to go forward in life without a purpose, without an identity, without...anything worthwhile? I don't know how to cope with such uncertainty and hopelessness.

I just need something that I can't find here. So why should I stay?

I understand things will most likely change in the future...so, I just need something or someone to get me through this current suffering. I can't do it alone. I simply don't have the strength....

And I'm falling faster each day....

Nothing.

It just...hurts. And I'm so lost. I know where to begin....sort of, but I just simple cannot see the point in trying over and over again. It all hurts. Everything hurts. Even just being AROUND people hurts because I'm so aware of every flaw and imperfection I have. I'm so, so aware of things like that now.
              Waking up hurts....I have to convince myself that I can make it through the day, that I won't break down, that things "won't be that bad", that today could be better. That things could start getting better. But they never do. It's only getting worse- I'm only getting worse. That screaming voice in my mind becomes more vicious every day and, though I previously believed what it said, it's affect is much potent now. I literally have to fight it out of my head and figure out what's going on around me. I can't focus on much unless I bury myself in whatever it is. But then it's done and I need to find another distraction. Thinking is no longer safe for me. I am no longer safe regarding my own well-being. I know that...but I don't actually care all that much. Not as of now anyways. That will probably change in a few weeks (depending on when this extremely low spell ends). This is how it goes for me, you know? High and soaring for days or weeks....low and crushed for weeks or months. And I've learned to hate the high because I know it means the low is coming. I never know how bad the low is going to be. They seem to be getting worse though, and the high's are becoming less frequent and less obvious. Any sense of happiness is beginning to fade. Smiles are fake, but now even the real ones are beginning to feel like a mask. I speak less and less. I push people away. I haven't been able to sleep well since I was 9, but I'm having a particuarly difficult time with it now. More so than last year, which I wasn't sure was possible. My eating habits are getting to be...well, interesting to say the least. My social life has now ceased to exsist (and I'm pretty sure I did that to myself). I honestly hate myself so much now that I feel sick sometimes. I cannot stand being who I am- the disgusting waste that I am. I cannot fathom why anyone would ever care about me. Why anyone would waste even a second or a breath on me. I AM NOT WORTH IT. And I never will be.....and that is killing me. Along with other things....

It just hurts. And there is so much anger, hate, numbness, apathy, and....hopelessness. I'm hopeless. And I don't think I (whoever that is- I lost her a long, long time ago, years ago really) am ever coming back. I don't even know who I am, what I am. I'm nothing now. And, as of now, the only thing occupying that void is darkness and cold air. I am nothing.....there is nothing left.

Just Too Long...

I don't know how much longer I can do this....I don't see the point anymore. There is no purpose. My dreams are too far and the beginnings of them that I previously had in my hands are crumbling quickly. To quickly for me to figure out how to save them. I don't know where I'm going. I don't know why I'm here. What is the point of fighting so hard, of trying so hard, when everything I ever do will never be enough. It will always be a failure. I will always be a failure. And I don't think that I can accept that and live the rest of my life with it. No....life was never really meant to be easy, but it wasn't supposed to be this hard either. I don't know how much longer I can do this....I don't want to anymore. I'm walking and laughing and struggling and breathing only for those around me. My parents. My friends. My family. There really aren't many of them if I think about it. The lack of people in my life, people that are actually close to me, is quite...sad if I ponder on it. Lonely. It's a hard state to constantly be in. Anyways, I can't fight much longer....and I don't think that I want to....I can't.

And for that....I am sorry.

I'll admit it. I'm not worth the love or the time. I am a cold, bitter, angry person. Have you ever seen a ghost? I promise that you have. Think about the people who walk by you with no expression. With...nothing. Better yet, some people don't even look like ghosts. They are illusions playing pretend in the world of normal reality. I promise you have, just look at me. See this smile? I promise that it isn't real. I broke down last night. I reached for my knife, in hopes of finding something that I'm missing. In hopes of feeling something. And, sadly, guess what- I never have. And I didn't. I never used that weapon of self-destruction. I broke down before I could. I may be reckless, but I've not fallen over the edge yet. I would most likely end up screwing up if I tried while shaking. Do you ever see my head drop in the halls? Can you practically see my heart fall to the floor whenever I'm standing all alone? It feels like you would be able to. But, sometimes I forget that I wear a mask. I cannot expect people with no idea to see what's happening to me. I would never let you. And for that, I am sorry. But, you'll never know that either....
               Do you ever wonder why I look far away when I'm standing with you, my friends? I'm not there. I cannot focus on the things right in front of me. My mind is too loud. And in some ways, I'd rather hide there than face all of this. Carrie, bestfriend of thirteen years, have you ever wondered why I never tell you about the scars before they become scars? I think you have. Because I've seen the hurt in your eyes when you find out. And that's why I hide, because I don't want to hurt you anymore. Lindsay, closest person to my heart and cousin for a lifetime, have you ever wondered what will happen to me since we're so alike? I believe you have. By the way you look at me. By the way you tell me your stories and ask me to remember them. I promise I remember. I promise I always will. But while my heart may make a promise, my mind could be lying. And I'm sorry.
               So, I'll admit it. I'm not worth the time. I'm not worth your love. You are all right to stay far away. I may seem personable, loving, and beautiful from the outside (and maybe in some ways I am somewhat decent as a person), but inside I'm a mess. And my mess will only prove to destroy you. Hence I push you all away. And for that I'm also sorry. I don't want to be lonely, but it's only to keep you safe. Safe from myself.
               Self-inflicted loneliness. So selfish, and unselfish- at the same time. And for that...I'm really sorry.

I'm sorry. I do love you...I can still do that. It's not that I'm cold....not completely. I'm just hurt and broken and tired and done. But I can still love...I just don't want to hurt you and, yes, I don't want to be hurt. That is selfish. And for that, I am sorry.

Countdown

Get ready for the let down.
Get ready for the fall.
Just when you think everything's getting better,
Here comes the end of it all.

Get ready for the disappointment.
Get ready for the shame.
Just when you think you've recovered,
You'll find you're drowning in pain.

Get ready for the loneliness.
Get ready for the failure.
Just when I thought about a future,
Here comes death's allure.

Get ready for the fall out.
Get ready to lose hope.
Just as things were making sense,
You fell off of a cliff and forgot how to cope.

I'm past the point of insanity.
I'm past the point of reason.
So just forget the meaningless smiles,
Forget my unrealistic treason.

I'm past the point of exhaustion.
I'm past the point of living.
Expect the end of a life,
I can feel myself slipping.

One, two, three, four.
How many to pass out on the floor?
Five, six, seven, eight.
How many to create a different fate.
Nine, ten, eleven, twelve.
How many to forget my dreams on the shelves.
Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen.
How many more to make me clean?
Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty.
Not many more. It was much too many.

Get ready for the wake.
Get ready for the graveside.
Just when you thought I was happy,
The light inside me started to die.

Get ready for the mourning.
Get ready for the grief.
I'm sorry for the pain of loss,
But for me this is relief.


~Amanda J. G.~

P.S.---Tthis is just my current mental state, it is not stating that I am going to kill myself tonight or soon. I wrote it just now because I had made a deal with myself. I had twenty pills laid out in pairs on my bed. 4,000mg- maybe enough? I wasn't sure, but I was going to take them. The deal to myself was that if I got a message from someone, anyone, for any reason then I wouldn't go through with it. The person who ended up sending that message had no clue. But I did. And the impossibility of it ended up stopping me. I wouldn't of had a note. Not really. However cruel that would've been if I had died. Thing is, leaving them with a piece of paper to attempt to fill the hole I'd be leaving behind wouldn't make a difference. Not really. So, yeah....just to explain that I'm not going to kill myself soon. I just wrote it to get it out of my head.---

I Just Want To Be Gone.

I just want to be gone....

I'm not even sure of why I'm here anymore. I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know where I'm going. And I sure as hell don't see the point in trying anymore. I only fall, only fail. I'll never amount to anything, I'll never be good enough. I simply am not enough. Worthless. Useless. Pathetic. I am a bother to everyone around me by simply being alive. None of them would ever say that (of course not, they're nice people) but I still know that I am. I honestly just want to melt into the floor, fade into the background....disappear. It's so....painful for me, being around people or talking to them. I'm already so aware of how fat and disgusting I am without having to worry about other people having to bare looking at me. I shouldn't be here anymore. I really shouldn't....
                It'd be so damn easy to let go. To just give into my urge to cut, my desire to die. I already gave into the prior a few days ago. Only a small slip...but that could change within an hour.
                All I see on this post is the word "I". Guess that is just another thing I can I add to the list of reasons to hate myself (and believe me, it's already a very long list)-selfishness.

I just want to be gone....I can't do this much longer.

And I'm not sure if that scares me or lightens my mood....It's almost comforting.

I'm just so tired....I'm done fighting. I have nothing left anymore except this...numbness.

"Two Words"

Blood bath. Suicide.
Reading the words in lines,
The ones written in red.
Scars that told your story.

Inch by inch,
Your skin was demolished.
All you wanted was to
Reflect what you saw....
On the inside.

No one ever cared,
Or so it seemed to you.
You were dying.
The faces around you blurred.
And you were lost...

Lost in a darkness so deep
That hope could not dispel
It's presence in your heart.
Not the poison in your veins.

Alone. Tired. Broken.
Pieces scattered around the memory
Of you.
Making up the lines of your face
The brutality of your addiction
The pain in your eyes
And the slivers of your dreams.

Tough skin, rough heart.
It was how you projected.
An outer-shell of falsehoods
Created to protect you.

Those walls of protection
Must have changed.
Into a prison and a torture chamber.
No screaming could be heard.
No tears were ever seen
But in your eyes....

Trust me, if you were here
I'd tell you how I know.
Know the pain.
Know the loneliness.
Know the shame, guilt, and....
Hopelessness.

I know the fear.
I know the hate of self.
The anger, fatigue, and...
Hiding.
Always faking.

I know the feeling
Of trying to stay two steps ahead
And falling four steps behind.
Of climbing to the top of the mountain
To fall off of the cliff.
Again and again and again....

"Blood bath," you said.
Just two words,
But they mean all the difference to me.

To someone you saved once.
Someone like me.

You were someone like me....

How?

There's only one thing that I want to do right now. Well two now. Two things calling to me and drawing me in. Run away. Cut. Run away. Cut. Get Away. Cut. Be alone. Cut. Stop hurting them. Cut. Run away. Cut. Run away forever.
            Run away from my mind. From the thoughts I do not want to deal with right now. Run away from the choices I do not want to make right now. Run away from the people around me. That way they won't have to deal with me, and I won't have to deal with them. How can I love something and want to leave it? To prevent destruction, or to feel comfortable and safe in isolation? Run away from this place. From home and all it's memories. From this town and all the people who know my story, those who judge me on it. From all the institutions and places the constantly tell me how worthless I am. And, even though it greatly pains me, even from God it'd seem. I'm running from him....running towards something that I can't see....darkness? As if it could even hide me. But it seems as though I'm still trying....and paying the price of such an attempt. It is possible to die while still physically alive. Trust me, I've seen it. I've felt it. It's possible to bring back such a dead soul, but something is always missing....
           Cut. Cut. Up and down. Clean skin or already marred. I wouldn't see the difference once I gave myself over to that beast hiding in my mind. Once I morphed into the monster in me, the part of me, that can run a blade against it's own skin....and not give a damn about what could happen. That's the truth...if I gave in again, I would no longer care what happened to me. The shame, the feeling of weakness, having to face such a failure, the guilt, the pain it'd cause those who care about me (maybe they wouldn't care?)....I wouldn't be able to process it or handle it. Chances are I'd wish for death instead of having to face it.....There are still days when I'm not sure why I'm still sticking around. Still breathing when everything seems so moot and pointless and bleak. When everything blurs together into one big canvas of grey, black, white, and occasional patches of red.
             Anger....pain....joy.....sadness. What's the point? Why feel? Why should I want to feel? So I can appreciate happiness and remember beautiful moments? Only to crash later when remembering better times....I don't want to feel. Plain and simple. And that's why I'll  never be able to get any better I guess. Because I can't see the point. More than that....I'm just afraid. Actually, I'm terrified. And I just don't know how to handle that.

I just don't know how to live......

Just Thoughts...

I need to write. To get everything out of my head. But I can't. I don't know why, but I can't. And that bothers me. Whenever things have gotten really bad, my only healthy releases have been writing and music. I try to write, but I just end up staring at the page until I just give up- frusterated and more upset than before. I try to play piano/guitar, but I quickly lose any desire to play. There is just...nothing there.
            I don't feel much anymore. I don't feel happiness, or sadness, or anger, or passion. I don't feel the difference between love and hate. I don't feel God anymore....that's killing me. I suppose I've just drifted too far from him this time and I've lost the blessing of hearing his voice. Or maybe my heart is just too hard, too bitter, too afraid to hear it....
            Point being, I feel nothing. Well, there are some things, but they blur together so often that it usually feels like nothing. I either feel loneliness, pain, or I'm stuck in some hellish sea of apathy. Not a care for if I'm hurt. I can't hurt myself anymore (prom, parents, friends, whatever...) but there are ways of getting around that. Wow....that sounds truly awful....
              Today is Easter. A day of new starts, new life. In a way it has been. I attended the Refuge again this morning for the first time in a long time. This time I convinced my parents to come. We've been looking for a new church and I'm really hoping they love the Refuge as much as I do.
              That has been the only new beginning. I probably shouldn't be writing this at night. My outlook is so much more negative the longer I'm alone at night. I suppose that is why I'm writing though. Sorry that this is all over the place....

So, I'm Having a Hard Time.

I'm having a rough time. I'm just having a difficult time with...well, myself of all things. But I'd rather not think about it right this second, so I'll just write about something else for the time being.

Okay. So, when my depression was wholly consuming me I used to do this thing. You know how in the shower (if you have glass doors or mirrors in the bathroom) if the water is hot enough then steam fogs up most surfaces? Sometimes I'd just write was I was thinking in that fog build-up on the glass. It could be anything: "help me, save me, I'm dying, I want to die, worthless, ugly, terrible, horrible, unloved, alone, broken, scarred, afraid, hated, no purpose, not good enough, forgotten, cutter, disgusting, sick, crazy, insane, suicidal, I hate myself, I will never be worth anything, everyone leaves" and so on and so forth. This way all of these thoughts and words could be released and dissapate with the steam. They would disappear. While they were still in the back of my mind, they were no longer killing me. Same thing with the mirror- any insecurities, self-hate, anger towards myself- would be written on my mirror. This way I could see my face through the words. At first I used to see it as them defining me. Because I could only see myself through the clarity of the letters. However, I finally realized that that was just it. I COULD ONLY SEE MYSELF THROUGH THE WORDS. They weren't who I was. I could see through the letters because I was the person behind them. They were labels, but I was more. It's been about four years now and I still have a hard time remembering this.
                  Lately I've begun writing on that glass and on that mirror again. On my skin if they aren't around. The problem with the latter is that the words stick around longer in ink. I just can't seem to see past them anymore. I BELIEVE them. Why not? They seem true enough. They line up with my thoughts. Other people most likely think the same as well. Yet, I cannot understand why I think all of this. I really shouldn't allow things to get to me this deeply; but I do. Otherwise...I'll feel practically nothing. And I'm tired of that. I'm tired of the nothingness. Being numb really isn't that great. Because numb isn't really numb. It's a wall of loneliness- you begin pushing everyone away and want to be alone. It's a cloud of doubt- about yourself, your life, your talent, your worth. Somedays it's waves of sadness- wanting more but not being able to reach it. It's not feeling anything. It's feeling so much that you shut down. Shut off. You stop caring and you can't take it anymore. Not in the current moment anyways. So you sit there. Sit there and drown in your thoughts, in memories, in words. And no matter how much you want things to be different, you lack the energy to get up again. What's the point? What if you fail again? You'll feel that much worse. I personally cannot deal with that again.
                     So I've been writing thoughts on that glass again. Only this time it's different. Writing them on the glass is like leaving impressions of them on my soul. The glass is designed to block the view. Almost like a random patchwork- almost like scars. And in it, with the words and with the cool of the surface, I can see myself. I do not like what I see. On most days I hate the person looking back at me. My eyes used to be my favorite attribute of my appearance. I can't stand to look at them anymore. They look so haunted, so pained. Smiling with those eyes sitting above the farce just looks painful. It looks fake. To me anyways. I can't stand that.
                      I wasn't planning on talking about how I feel now, but I guess in some ways I did. Sorry if this was all random. My thoughts tend to be like that at night. Buzzing so quickly that I can't grasp and understand one before another crashes through.

I'm having a hard time. I'm fighting, yes. But I don't feel strong enough for this fight. I feel like glass and I feel like I'm disappearing with those words...bit by bit. Fading....and I have no idea how to fix myself. I never did in the first place. I faked it. Pretended I was okay to appease the people around me. But I'm breaking now.  My mask is splintering and melting to show the broken person behind it. And I can't stop it....I can't stop this.....

I'm losing ground and I fear that soon I will fall again. I'm terrified of what is waiting at the bottom for me.....old demons don't like being left behind.