Young and Reckless
There have been moments where I needed some clarity. It also explains why I’ve been off the walls lately. I don’t really know how to express to others in a sense where they understand. Let’s be real, no one really cares the way that I want them to conceive such little information. I wonder how that tumor is doing. I don’t like thinking about it, I don’t like talking about it. I just want to continue living life, day by day.
There is no point to dwell on something I don’t want to change. I don’t want to spend my early twenties in a hospital bed. I don’t want to have to think about it at all. I spent times alone in the hospital. I’ve spent lots of times waking up to nothing and no one there to just hold my hand. And I think about my funeral a lot. I think about who would actually care.
I haven’t been suicidal lately but I know parts of me just stopped caring about other things and people, even myself. I want there to be an explanation for why I keep acting out. It’s hard to stay positive all the time when parts of me just feel so tired.
You’re getting sick on me. And I don’t know what to do to help or make you feel better. You’re a father figure to me. I’ve lost so many people already and I’m trying not to think so negatively but it’s hard to fight against odds. To fight against facts and evidence here. How do you expect me to live on? You can’t get sick on me. You can’t just leave!!! You have to be there for graduation. You have to be there when I get my first real job in the field, my career. You have to understand and see all the effort you put into building me was a missing piece of you.
It sucks. It really does. I’m trying so hard to keep it together and when things are all in a bundle just mixed up. I don’t know what else to do but shut down completely or just turn off the switch and go numb again. I don’t care about much these days. It’s easier for to run and fuel my energy with things that are dangerous for me. At this point; in this moment. I just don’t care for things anymore. For anyone else.
I’ve grown used and immune to all types of pain, my own and the pain of others. The worst part about it is, is I know I’ll end up surviving. I know I’ll end up fine so I test all odds and all limits.
What people fail to understand is just because I was or am somewhat content and happy does not mean that I won’t be depressed again tomorrow or feel suicidal again. That’s the thing I hate most about it. It comes and it goes whenever it pleases. Sometimes nothing is going on at all. There’s no negative thoughts, but it’s just a feeling of not wanting to be here anymore. I’ve lived. I lived the life I want to. If anything were to happen, I’d happily go without any remorse or regrets.
I had my fun, I’ve cried so many times I lost count, I’ve smiled and laughed till my cheeks starting hurting. Sometimes this isn’t a place for me anymore. The only thing that keeps me alive is surviving. Survival mode is on. Living gets scary and it gets hard. I just want to be alone in isolation and turn off these fucking voices in my head. Dark days get darker. One thing I’m scared of most is myself because there are no limits or telling how far I’d go. I don’t want to relapse because I’ve gotten so far but the way life is right now just seems unpromising. If I keep turning on and off the switch, I’ll just end up where I started 11 years ago.