I crumble, I cannot, I cannot find reflection in these days
Am I okay? No. I can’t even begin to express what’s going on with me. And I really don’t want to. I don’t know how to express this. All I know is I’m falling into despair and its become a desolate place where I can’t control things anymore. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to live anymore. I can’t help but to wonder something. And I can’t write about it.
From my Facebook: I wasn’t a huge fan of Linkin Park but Chester Bennington’s death kinda hits me hard. It’s painful to know he’s taken his own life. The Hybrid Theory album meant a great deal to me in my darkest days. Songs like Crawling.. it was as if that song was written for me. And now Chester is gone to suicide. I admit I thought about it many times in the dark days I kept on going. How did I manage to keep on going? How is that I made it out of the blackness… but he and many others did not? How do you deal with something like this? Knowing that a band who seemed to speak to you in so many ways.. lost the singer and the one who wrote these lyrics that spoke to you? I just can’t.
That is what triggered this bout of depression, because he suffered from it.. and I suffer and yet I’m here and he’s gone but its only escalated and things that shouldn’t be getting to me are. I can’t think to get an entry out properly. I don’t have the mental strength anymore nor do I have the emotional strength. Maybe I’ll come back and write when I can.. I don’t know. I don’t know whats wrong with me anymore.
From Instagram: I don’t even know where to begin. I don’t know what words I can possibly say at this point. All I know is the blackness is back. All I know is I’m acting like and pretending everything is okay. WELL ITS NOT. And there’s no one that can possibly understand what I’m feeling. What something so stupid can do to me. A stupid comment? A smart ass remark? That gets to me. Right now I want to just end everything. I don’t want to anymore, but I’m too fucking selfless to end my own life because I have a heart or some fucked to strength to continue torturing myself. I want to live but I don’t want to live. I hope this doesn’t kill me inside. I think this job will. I think everything I love to do just took a backseat, but again I have to do the because this is what this world is and this is what I do for other people. I sacrifice myself so other people can be happy, but can’t anyone do that for me. Instead I’m the bad guy. I’m the one who gets dumped on and I’m the one who fights myself everyday. I didn’t want to eat today. I didn’t want to do anything. I made myself. I’m just fucking depressed..
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s like all I can do is keep writing this gibberish to keep from breaking apart.” ― Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower