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A little something?

As I lie in bed, all I can think about is how I’ve failed.

Failing classes.

Failing to keep others happy.

Failing to keep me healthy.

Failing to… Live?

Everything’s fading, I’m losing passion.

What’s happening? I need to know.

Every time someone points out a failure is another strike at my already broken self-esteem.

Confidence is lost, and I feel empty.

But who cares? Others are going through worse.

I’m suffocating in this mask. Time to put it back on.

~ Self Protester

How It Pains Me

Why must I have feelings at all?

The tears are welling up in my eyes, and I feel the lump in my throat.

If I were to sleep for the rest of my life, everyone else would be so much better.

All I do is complain, why does anyone else even care about me?

I have wandering eyes, I don’t deserve to be happy.

If I were to start sobbing, would anybody care..?

No. No one would bat an eye.

~ Self Protester

How To Actually Help

  1. Don’t ask me what’s wrong- I don’t want to talk about it.
  2. Don’t try to cheer me up. Since I am upset, I’d like to stay upset.
  3. If I don’t want to admit I’m upset, then don’t make me. That’ll just make me more upset.
  4. Please, just hug me. Let me cry in your arms. On the off-chance I actually feel like talking, I’ll open up on my own.
  5. Food always helps (particularly fruit, coffee or dark chocolate).
  6. Don’t leave me. I know it sounds bad, but if I’m alone the thoughts will come back stronger.
  7. If I want to be alone, then leave me be. That’s all I ask
  8. And for the love of God, don’t apologize.

This has been a short PSA about what to do when I’m sad. Thank you!

Not the greatest,

~ Self Protester

Where Did You Go?

This is devoted to my cousin, whom I lost a few years ago.

Amy, where are you when I need you most? I miss you. I carry your death like a 200-pound weight on each shoulder. Why did you have to go so soon, before I could tell you anything? Why did you have to leave me on the Earth, stranded and confused? I wish you could’ve seen me through everything I accomplish.

July 14, 2014, I lost you, the kindest and most angelic person I’ve ever met. You were so beautiful and optimistic, and not a day goes by that you’re not in my thoughts. I was nowhere near the most affected by your death. Your mother was devastated; your son was probably even more lost than I was. I still feel as if I was cheated, though. I never got to say goodbye to you while you were still here, and that is the single worst thing I have ever felt. I know you were trying to hide your illness and lead a good life while you still had one. The last time I ever saw you was at a family party. I could tell you weren’t your usual, happy self. You were more tired. I bet the sickness beat you down; I bet it abused you until your last breath, but you were so strong. I always admired how strong you were.

I still mourn for you. I still cry about not being able to talk to you before you left me. I’m trying so hard to be happy, but I can’t. I want to see you again. I want to come out to you and tell you all of my plans for college. I want to show you how I’ll propose to my significant other in the future. I want your opinion of the house I should get and the name of my first child. Two and a half years after your death, I still find myself lost. Time has reduced the wounds, but the scars your death left still remain. You will forever live on inside me. Rest in peace, my beautiful Amy.

Dying inside, 

~Self Protester

Life with Anxiety…

Hi, nice to meet you! How are you today?

Oh, how rude of me- I didn’t introduce myself!

I’m your worst fucking nightmare. You’re my puppet, and I’m your master.

Every day and every night, I’ll have you struggling to breathe. I’ll make you sick of existing.

Who needs a social life? Not you! You’re never going to answer your friends. They all hate you anyway.

What if someone doesn’t answer you? Be prepared to freak out. These, my friend, are how I’m slowly going to ruin your life. Just call them “attacks”.

Also, be prepared to take everything to heart, no matter how small. Someone so much as looks at you funny, you’ll be worrying about it for the rest of your miserable day. You won’t be able to sleep.

There’s no hope for you. You were so innocent before, but get ready for a living hell, thanks to yours truly.

You know, I’m not so bad! Over time you’ll learn how to live with me. Forget about therapy, though. You really think your parents will let you? They’re not going to blow their money on silly little mind games, are they?

Oh boy, this’ll be great! We’ll be best buds- roomies! I’m so excited to be sharing this brain with you.

Oh… Did I say “sharing”? I meant taking over. This funky blob in your head? That’s mine now. Every bad feeling you have will be amplified- ten fold.

I’ll make you suffer, but not so much that you lose hope immediately. What fun would that be?

How good of a worst nightmare would I be then?

~Self Protester

My mind @ me

Way to go, she can’t even trust you now!

What, is “it’s nothing” your fucking catch phrase?!

Newsflash, dumbass! NOBODY FUCKING BELIEVES YOU.

You can say that you’re fine all you want but they all know you’re not. Even though you don’t know what’s wrong, they don’t know that. They think you don’t trust them. They know you’re lying them, so why keep up the act? Why not act the way you really are- anxious, depressed, terrified? Why must you continue trying to make everyone believe you’re a ball of sunshine when CLEARLY you’re not?!

Why don’t you let yourself suffer? Why keep it quiet when you could let the whole world know?

… Oh wait. They already do.

Alone

I stop moving momentarily. I space out.

How am I still expected to do things when I don’t even want to be on this miserable planet anymore?

Am I supposed to glue on a fake smile even though I feel like dying?

I want to tear myself apart. Literally. I want to sob my eyes out while nobody’s watching. I want to cut my skin like it’s paper and bleed out in the bathtub.

My demons are consuming my brain, jabbing at my stomach and crawling up my throat, all at once. I’m tearing myself apart. Metaphorically.

I want to scream. I want to cry. I want to punch something. Someone.

I need her more than ever, but she needs me to be strong.

I need to brush it off. I need to be strong, by her side. I need to be happy, loving, supporting.

I can do this! I can be strong, for her. I don’t need to pay attention to my feelings… Right?

I can do this, right?

I can’t do this.

Right. Okay. I can’t be happy all the time, but I do need to try sometimes.

Or apparently not. 

~Self Protester