This is reality

This is the voice that is explaining I will never get better, no matter how hard I work at it, I will always fail.

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I never knew a human tear duct had the ability to produce so many tears in such a short time space.

This is suicide. This is the voice that is telling me the only way out is to let death take me.

This is the voice that is explaining I will never get better, no matter how hard I work at it, I will always fail.

This is the fear that I will always be like this.

This is the anger that I wouldn’t be like this if men hadn’t abused me.

This is the sadness that I am left alone again. This is the trying to get myself through the days when I wake up suicidal. This is the exhaustion that is caused due to the fear of sleeping. This is the worrying that my education is going to be jeopardised if I go book myself into the hospital as a suicidal case. This is the fear that once I admit my thought process I will be treated as a sub-human with no choice on what I want to happen.

I have been asking out loud for someone to just end it all for me. I have admitted that they have won and I am exhausted from trying. I have been keeping myself quiet because I don’t want to continue hurting people.

This is the constant state of panic that I thought I had the answer to deal with. Yet people think that you need alone time to focus on yourself and get better. We don’t need alone time. We need support and care. I feel so feeble, like a baby bird who doesn’t know how to fly, yet I jumped.

This blog is for awareness, not for romanticism. This is the stark truth of having your brain want to kill you and you have no way out anymore.

This is the second day that I have been urgently wanting medication to sort the chemical imbalance out. I would have known how to deal with it before, but I have no tactics that I can use anymore.There was no plan B because I thought plan A was invincible. Now I understand that it is wrong to rely on people. There is no blame. Just wish I knew plan B is always needed when something as fragile as death is being messed around with.

I lost myself in the attempt to seek help. Now I have everything on the highest level of pain and zero morphine.

This is my want to be productive and get on with things. This is inability to do so.

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