Silence is a fickle, fickle woman.
She wraps her long, slender arms around you and pulls you in all the time whispering that everything will be alright, that you just need to give in and rest your head upon her chest. "You're safe here" she'll say, her eyes locked onto the demons that lurk in the darkness that creeps in around you before her hands move to your throat and choke the sanity out of you. When she's done taking everything she can from you, reaping things you didn't know you had, you're left feeling cold and empty. Your eyes just stare into the distance, locked on nothing in particular because you just don't feel anything. This.. this is what the night brings for me.
I know I should be able to voice the way I'm feeling; I should be able to just sit down, look someone in the eye and tell them I feel like I'm dead on the inside, that being alive has become close to unbearable. I need someone to follow me into the dark and pull me out. I'm drowning out here; the seas are raging, the winds are blowing and I'm just getting pulled under. Sure, I might have the strength to swim for awhile but, quite honestly, finding reason to want to fight has been getting harder these days.
Maybe I'm just tired of fighting.
I know I should have the strength to fight for myself and pull myself out of the water and keep going on because that's what I've always done. That's what everyone has always expected me to do so I've always just complied - that's what I seem to do best. I shut down, change and alter my own goals and actions to suite the needs of others and go about my day as if nothing's wrong when, in reality, I can't manage to get out of bed in the morning for myself let alone deal with what's actually bothering me in any normal healthy way. When something is bothering me I just shut down completely because I don't want to burden someone else with what I'm dealing with. I push down the emotions until I've swallowed them completely and pretend like everything is fine, just fine.
I need to stop pretending.
I'm going to admit it: I'm a mess. I have these great ideas, things I'd like to accomplish and maybe one day see through. I can't accomplish these things without working on myself first. I can't teach or better other people without fixing my own problems. I suppose figuring out what they are would be the first step in that horribly messed up process. It's not like I can just pin point one or two things and say "Ah ha, that's it! Here, let me go to this manual and that'll give me instructions on how to fix A, B, and C." If only being human worked like that, right? No standard solution exists when you lose your mind; it's a miracle you even begin to notice you're losing your mind, let alone figure out how to fix things before they get too out of hand.
I must mention, though, that despite how much I don't want to burden my friends with what's going on with me... I have a truly amazing group of people who care about me. I know without them, there's no way in hell I'd still be alive. Their love, their compassion... It's what keeps my heart beating long after I've given up. They'd stand there pumping my heart for me, giving me their own blood if it meant I'd be alive for one more day. My one friend just sent me a text, just to make sure I was doing alright because he knew I was alone tonight and how bad this week has been for me. My other two friends are sitting up with me just talking about whatever I feel the need to talk about because they know how hard it is for me to just open up about what's going on with me. They know me better than anyone, this small group of people, and know when to poke at me and when to wait for me to come to them. They know and understand the way I work. Having them in my life is utterly priceless.
No matter what they say, though, I'll still feel like a burden.