Sometimes Silent; Always Here

I’m still here and I swear to god, I am still fucking fighting. You see, I don’t have a weak bone in my body. That’s just a mask my depression wears. And in my darkness- this I know.

See I haven’t been writing because I’ve lost words to say. To you, for you, about you. How do I write for me and not for you? All of you. How do I stay strong when my mind has weakened. From lack of love of self. From lack of belief in myself. From not creating, not adventuring, not being who I am meant to be because some times, a lot of the times- I don’t see her. She almost doesn’t exist because I’ve hidden her so far away. For protection maybe, out of fear most likely.

My heart is tattered, but who’s isn’t? There is no strength without the fall. There is no progress without failure. This we know but love to ignore. Suicide has been a theme song in my heart as of late. Wishes of death but never the imagination to do so myself. I’d take a bus to the body perfectly fine though.

I don’t know why I am here really. I’m not really sure where I’m going or what my path is. I can’t see it- I’m too clouded. I’m learning more and more truth about my mind every day and I do not believe it to be well. I do not think that the way I am living is the way this life is meant to be lived. My soul won’t allow me to believe that this way I feel, this way I think, that this is how I am meant to live. Meant to move forward. See I can’t move forward like this. I can’t find myself with depression and self hate drowning every other thought that flutters into my eyes.

I do not wish to romanticize this, I never would want that but I can no longer avoid speaking on these thoughts and feelings. I can no longer shovel down how I know I feel. I know that I am worthy, but I do not feel it. That is okay but it is really not at the same time.

And you see I’ve turned my friends into my therapist. Blurting out stories of disgusting traumas that I can only imagine no one wants to hear, I definitely don’t- but alas I live with them. I’ve turned alcohol into my prescription and any person who’s close & around my therapist, my hear all, know all, speak none. It’s unfair and I know this. I don’t want to hurt the one’s I love with the lows that I feel, the lows that I carry. It is not fair. But I also can not do this alone. I can not. I can not. No one can. No one is meant to do this alone. No one is meant to fight alone, to live alone, to fucking LOVE alone. We are all connected.

I understand that not all traumas can be handled by others, that not all stories can be stomached by those who did not experience them but I have to say, and I will forever repeat, I will be your non speaking ear. I will be the silent therapist that you don’t have. I will listen, stomach and digest any and every trauma you need to release. I can be that for you because everyone needs someone but we don’t all have that.

To myself and to you, all of you, we are not alone. We are not doomed to live this way. We have choices that are unimaginable but they are there. We have strength buried beneath the clouds, soaring within the ocean. We are all that we need and we can strengthen together.

I am here. I will always be here. I am not going anywhere.


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