Dear Voices

Dear World,

The voices have come to visit again. Well, it's been a day since the memorial and as much as I don't wanna cry because of what he did to me I can't help but cry. I used to think maybe it was all just happening in my later childhood when I was 12 but I'm just realizing I've had it with me my whole life from the age of 3. What is this “it” you ask? My head. My thoughts. My depression. I've written notes to pour it out here and there but I think it's about time to put my thoughts all in one place for once. I've been losing my mind and it seems like nobody sees it, nobody, even cares. This house doesn't feel like home after what happened to my parents. I can say I made it through the day. I must have said, “I'm fine,” at least 37 times, but I didn't mean it once. I'm becoming someone I don't wanna be and honestly, I wish I couldn't feel a damn thing anymore. I liked being alone or at least I convinced myself I'm better of that way. This way I can't hurt anyone. I feel like I'm drowning all the time. Like no matter how much you're freaking out the instinct to know the waters so strong that you won't open your mouth till your heads exploding and when you finally do that's when it stops hurting. It never mattered what I said I was what was wrong in every situation or piece of bad luck I was in. If I'm not hurting myself I'm hurting everyone around me. Telling someone that they are okay is assuming and I never was okay but that's all I got was assumptions. What was I supposed to do show it? Then I was an attention whore. I never tried to hurt anyone I was just so tired of disappointing them. But even emotions echo. they asked me about my dreams and my plans I explained they said no. Nobody will ever be able to fix me because I am not broken. I am a mess and I'm so sorry. I understand I don't like me either. The thing is I knew what I was doing and I think that's what hurt the most. My thoughts were maybe the “ill” ones are so sad because they understand reality and the others are stuck in a world of imagination. So stop trying to fix me I'm not getting better and I'd wish everyone would understand that! You know it's funny my dad tells me to stop acting like a child but it's a father I needed the most. Why can't anyone see why doesn't anybody care? Am I worthless? Am I too far gone for a remedy? If I reached out could I trust you? It's my fault. I know it is. I could have probably gotten over it. I'm drowning in my something that I myself have created. Something I maybe didn't even see happening before. Something that got worse and worse over time. Something that corrupted my day to day things. Something that would let me barely eat or even sleep. Something that made even my emotions bigger and harder to ignore and my voice smaller. This something, this illness was taking over not only me but everyone around me.