Mental Health Week…

I usually start my post with a quote from a song or just a quote in general. I usually start my days numb, with no sense of care, no sense of happy at all. I usually try, fall, get back up and proceed, do it all over again.

I usually…

There have been so many nights I’ve attempted suicide. There have been so many nights I’ve contemplated packing up my bag and just leaving, no note, no trail, no connection. There have been many nights I’ve stumbled in drunk out of my mind. There have been many nights I’ve just sat up all night crying and dying a little inside.

There are many nights…

Why are you so sad? Why would you cut your wrists? Get over it. Its not impossible to get better. You’ll be fine. Just do it. The constant pressure to get better all because people cannot accept my depression, my bipolar disorder, my anxieties and panic attacks as something serious. Its not just mental, it gets physical as well.

Get over it…

There have been many mornings where the sun light hits my face and I think, today will be a good day. The birds chatter fills my soul, the howling of my pups makes me smile. Knowing my baby niece has just arrived to my house gets me up and out of my bed just to see her. There have been many mornings like this, the thing is, there have been more nights, more days where I don’t want to get up, moments where my mind won’t shut up, many times I’ve woken up physically but truly dead inside.

There are many days…

 

Scars To Your Beautiful…

She prays to be sculpted by the sculptor
Oh, she don’t see the light that’s shining
Deeper than the eyes can find it
Maybe we have made her blind
So she tries to cover up her pain and cut her woes away
Cause covergirls don’t cry after their face is made

I look in the mirror and I hate what I see. I look in your eyes and I hate what you see. I look at my reflection in the rain puddle in my backyard and I stomp on the face that it shows me.

I hate myself.

I’ve come to learn how to hate all the bits and pieces of myself throughout the years. Society has taught me how to not feel and how to not be satisfied with who I am. Men have confused me by seducing my body but not my mind.

I hurt myself.

The only way that has made sense in my head to love myself is those quick fiery nights, a swig of the bottle that never leaves my side and the power I have to satisfy others thirst. I love myself when others “love” my body but not my core.

I hate myself.