I see my world as a dull, lifeless grey. All around me, there are no vibrant colors, no textures, no nothing. It's as if I'm walking through a tunnel that neither has and end nor a beginning; it keeps going and going and anything I see is just... plain. A dark aura follows me wherever I go. I scare people simply by standing near them. I make people want to scream and run if I meet their eyes, even for just a second. I know I'm not perfect, I know I'm not, but why?
Why do they think I'm a monster?
I'm always depressed. Sadness and confusion are my two main emotions. I hardly feel happy anymore; I can fake it well enough, but still... I'm so sad. I'm sometimes angry, sometimes frustrated, but mostly hopeless and sad and ashamed and guilty. Guilt pulls me down deeper and deeper every day; I sometimes wonder how long it'll be before I hit rock bottom.
"Y'know, Ashlei, if you only talked more, you'd be happier..."
I don't care! I don't want to talk about my problems, because all I ever do is make myself a burden. P has stated before- I need to think for myself. But I can't. Nobody understands that... I don't care about myself anymore. My self hatred has gotten so bad that I barely even eat or have a good hygiene anymore. I'm falling apart again, but this time, I'm ruined. Not broken.
I continue to see myself as a lifeless whore, only living on certain things to stay somewhat relatively on track for life. I blindly do things now; hell, I barely remember taking my antibiotic this morning. My stomach's rolling and all I want to do is puke and hide in bed all day.
Fatigue is my friend now. It's constantly by my side, keeping me from walking around much or having enough energy to go on the internet. Even right now, I feel like sleeping; at least in sleep, I can avoid my reality and live in a world better than this.
My arms sting. I've been pinching them for the last hour, trying not to cry. I haven't been able to get anything sharp to start cutting with; after the hospital incident, I've been monitored like a dead carcass. The only thing I really do now is just trying to feel something other than my sadness.
Agony. Anger. Envy. Jealousy. Guilt. They are mine and I am theirs. It's something I've accepted...
Maybe I'll live another day. Maybe I won't. But just know that I'm slowly coming undone. The seams are falling open and people are beginning to see my inner self.