The Worst Part


The worst part about trying to kill yourself, and failing, is that the desire to die doesn’t go away. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I am beyond relieved to be alive. Waking up in that hospital was a miracle.

And, to be honest, it’s a miracle I’ve survived the last few weeks.

I’m not easy on myself, and I never have been. So, coming back to the mess I left in my wake…I’m not sure I’ve ever hated myself more. I don’t tell anyone that. I’ve never even told my psychologist how much it hurts to even look in the mirror in the morning. The reflection I see is not the girl my parents wanted me to be and that hurts so bad.

In the mirror, I see the girl who was used and passed around. I see the girl that didn’t fight back. I’m looking into the eyes of someone so weak that she couldn’t hold it together even a week past her 21st birthday before she tried to off herself. I’m face to face with the person that couldn’t save her mother and now can’t seem to save herself.

I’ve tried so hard to isolate myself, to create walls so that others didn’t get pulled into the crazy. I don’t want anyone that loves me to be witness to the self-destruction. I just…I don’t want anyone to love me. Maybe that seems insane, but it would make it so much easier. I just don’t see the purpose I serve in anyone else’s life. I didn’t three weeks ago, three years ago, and I don’t now. I see the scars on my body and the wrong I’ve done and the lies I’ve told and the people I’ve hurt and the people that have hurt me and I can’t help  but wonder why am I still here?

Tonight, I was running in circles in my head, going crazy, trying to figure out what my next step should be. I’ve burned so many people out in the last year and a half. Between the self-harm and the suicide attempts, I’m a walking train wreck. No one needs to be involved with this. I want to run away – pack a suitcase, take my dog, and just disappear – but I can’t…because that hurts more people…and I don’t know why! I just want to yell at these people: “Stop caring! I’m not worth it!”

I am broken. Those men broke me. Feeling my mom’s heart stop…it ruined me. Bipolar disorder is a mark only so many can look past. I am not worth the love, patience, or time of any of the people still in my life. I want to run away and put them out of my misery.

Usually, I have some form of encouragement at the end of my posts…but I’m so burned out. Just be stronger than I am and keep kicking. Keep your head above water. You are worth it. I promise.


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