insomniac
another day. so tired of this. needing a way out. needing someone to accompany me to this place where no one can reach me. and it hurts, friend. i want to let you in but no matter how far in i let you it won't be far enough to discover what's really inside. turtle told me a few nights back that he used to be suicidal-depressive, a few years ago. makes me think that maybe this all runs in my family. and he told me, or reminded me maybe, of how i don't laugh anymore, how i haven't laughed for over a year now. i never even thought he realized that, and perhaps never thought he cared until he told me, "i want the old becky back." well i'm sorry, hun. sorry that i've hurt you so freakin' much that we're hardly even close anymore. it's my fault, and it always is, you know i'll do anything for you but getting out of this isn't that simple.lately i think about death... i guess i'm stupid, or naive maybe because i don't really think about dying itself. just about not being here. because i can't go on anymore. i don't know where to turn, don't know what to do. sometimes i can feel the panic rising up in my chest, making me hyperventilate -- i'm not the kind of person to have anxiety attacks but lately i do. when i'm not even worrying. everything is falling down, i'm on my face in the mud and it's all freezing over. i can't see anymore. sometimes i feel like the way i do when i'm walking down my street to get to the shuttle stop; there's this stretch of street with no trees, all open and gray and it lies before me on and on, on and on. that's how life feels to me lately. since when did i stop being real? since when have i stopped existing? eating tears for every meal and drowning myself in sleep at night. cutting just to feel. the pain pushing behind my eyes grows and grows. i want to close them, never open them again. there's nothing i want to do. nothing i want to be. i can't think of a single thing to dream of. can't stay, can't leave, can't focus. can't care because caring costs too much. and maybe i'll be this way forever? i feel sick when i think of tomorrow. all this work that's never-ending, piling up more and more. all the pain, all the hurt; it doesn't fade. and if only you could see what it feels like to need to disappear. please hold me, otherwise i might vanish altogether.
and i love you always,
*bex