alot like smoking

alot like smoking

A Story by ace

putting in perspective of self harm

How is it possible to feel so suicidal but not depressed. Yet still have this overwhelming sense of wanting to slice open my wrist till i bleed to death or to take a bunch of pills go to sleep and never wake again. The feeling is there all the time. I could be doing nothing or i could be enjoying whatever i am doing but yet i still get theses sense to just end it. I mean why should i have to continue to live when i am so messed up. I understand this sounds selfish but how is it not selfish for others to make me feel guilty to do what will make myself happy. I have tried to distracted myself to get rid of these feelings cause i don't want to feel like this anymore but i can't seem to make them go away. I don't think there is anyone in the world who wants to feel this way. More and more lately i have been feeling i could benefit going back in but i can't. I know i said i would if i start to feel this way again but i can't do it. I can't spend one more day in any of those places again. But the urges are getting stronger it is at the point where i can imagine myself going through with it. It is in my dreams at night and my thoughts during the day. I talk about my future but i don't want it. Having to take meds to make me at least a coward to not go through with my plan, but yet they make me suffer. These meds is keeping me from getting to the point to have enough courage to just do it, causing me to live in invisible pain. Indescribable pain. Pain that makes me suffer that makes me want to follow through with it even more. I got to the point where cutting doesn't even hurt, doesn't help, doesn't do anything, but yet it is a necessary. Even though it doesn't help when i do, it hurts when i don't. It became a need. It's like those commercials for cigarettes, the one where it says about it being a contract that's what cutting is, it's a contract that i can't get out of, no matter what i do there is no loophole. I am able to laugh and smile again, but when i laugh and smile I still have this dreading feeling in the pit of my stomach . A feeling I can't really describe. It's like feeling sad and anxious at the same time. Its wanting to cry and run away to hide in a dark miserable coroner  where no one can find you. That's what's on the inside bit on the outside I am laughing and smiling. It is a constant fight of self harm and suicidal thoughts. “It's like I'm running from you all the time/ And I know I let you have all the power / it's like the only company I seek is misery all around/ It's like you're a leech/ Sucking the life from me”  “its like I'm not me” I feel like I'm living multiple lives. I have the one for when i am around family which is always smiling and being some what me. I can be Ace but I still can't show my true feelings. I have the one for when I am around people at church which is having to be Ashley which i hate but can't do much about right now and then there is the one i am when i am all alone where i can give into one of my many urges where I can fantasizes my own death. It is exhausting. “ It's like I'm lost/ It's like I'm giving up slowly”. Day by day the urges become stronger it is just a matter of time till I give in. i mean everyone dies sooner or later and I want mine to be sooner. Why is that such a bad thing? Why can't it happen without me having to do it? I mean is it really that hard for an accident to happen?  “It's like I can't think/Without you interrupting me/In my thoughts/ In my dreams/ You've taken over me”. These thoughts have consumed me again, but then again they never really did leave. “I can laugh and act okay/ I can/ show a smile and say I'm happy/ But there has gotta be a better way”.

© 2017 ace

Author's Note

ignore grammar problems

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Added on June 16, 2017
Last Updated on June 16, 2017
Tags: self harm, help, mental illness



monroeville, PA

i am 19 years old and non-binary . i started to write when i was hospitalized for mental health reasons. to this day i still struggle and that is what i write about. more..

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