Let's Descend.

Mild spiral tonight.

A brief visit to madness.

Refreshing and terrifying.

Five feet high and rising.

But I'm 5' 9" and it will not overtake me.

Not tonight.

I miss cutting.

Slicing what binds.

A personal parting of the Red Sea.

Demons washed away with the blood I've spilled.

Relief awaiting on the far shore.

Coming to Terms.

That's what I'm doing right now.

Relieving the events of last night. 

Filing away what needs to be hidden.

I don't know how I feel.

I should have said no.

I should have taken control.

I should have stopped it.

He would have stopped.

I think.

I am re-evaluating my values.

And if nothing else, last night set me against sleeping with those I have no feelings for.

I am guilty.

I am reconsidering my self worth.

It is terrible.

I despise it to the last fiber of my being.

Fuck any hope I had of a man worth it.

Fuck it all.

Fuck my best wishes.

One day.

Maybe.

I hate myself.

To an insane degree.

All of it.

School.

Life.

Sex.

None of it is worth it at this point.

I don't know what to do with myself right now.

I hate every single person right now.

Five, maybe six are exempt.

I want to write something of consequence.

Share something of meaning.

Impact anyone.

That's a lie.

I am nowhere near healthy enough to impact anyone.

Fuck my life.

Sideways.

Clever.

So proud.

I love myself right now.

I'm under the influence of alcohol.

I should stop it.

I should take care of myself.

  I should love.

Myself mostly.

It's so damn hard.

So fucking difficult.

I want to be healthy, I swear I do.

I think.

I'M STRUGGLING.

And I'm jealous.

Of Grace.

Even though her relationship is unhealthy.

As far as I know.

I don't know much though.

Thank you Bicardi.

I really appreciate all you've done in my life.

You deceitful being.

Control.

Can I have all of it?

I'll give a fair price.

As long as it's under what I make in a day.

Which is nothing.

I'm quite the prize.

Fuck.

That's exactly what just happened.

Fucking.

And I feel terrible.

I hate myself right now.

I hate myself so incredibly much.

I am failing.

I am failing at so very many things right now.

School: Failing.

Medication Adherence: Failing.

Social Skills: Failing.

Valuing Myself: Failing.

Depression: Winning.

I need my mommy.

I need my dad.

I need help.

Suicide: Appealing.

I am drunk.

Not for the first time in a while..

I got drunk last night too.

But, now I am alone.

And it sucks.

Typing is hard. 

Because I am drunk.

And I am alone.

And I am sad.

and...

There's so much.

And There's nothing.

Fucking alone.

ForeverAlone.jpeg

Fuck..

I'm so lonely.

Reid facebook chatted me tonight.

He said almost nothing.

It was real lame.

I want to punch him in the groin.

Or fuck him.

Except not really.

I'm kind of a prude.

Kind of..

Maybe.

It depends on your thought processes.

Saadi thought we went on a date today?

I thought it was food I was paying him back for?

Fuck My Life,

Sideways.

Congratulations to the dry eyes.

Consolations to the nice guys.

And condensations' on the underside,

Of everything I touch, I seem to chill the objects that I meant so much to love.

Fuck.

I'm so something.

Drunk? Lonely? Tired?

Everything fucking above.

I miss companionship like no other.

It's crazy.

How much I miss a man to turn to.

I hate it.

But once I have it I love it!

I crave it.

I want to be caressed right now.

I want to be fucked right now.

I want someone who wants me back.

And I hate it.

Steven is texting.

He's bad at stuff.

I should sleep.

FUCK.

I am in mourning.

Maybe we visited a place so dark that we couldn’t see anything but the trauma or our loved one’s absence and maybe when we came back, part of that place stuck to us like a layer of soot across our eyes. Or an iron weight in our throat. A shadow that filters how we feel and think about the world, tinging everything with shades of gray. 

One Settled Comfortably in the Cuckoo's Nest

Dani Burlison 

Today has been difficult.

The laundry isn't done.

Neither are the dishes.

My bed isn't made.

My classes came and went without me.

And I am mourning.

I am mourning myself.

The loss of who I thought I was going to be.

 How very first world.

I am in pain.

Dull and Throbbing alike.

Without a wound.

Without a source.

I was going to be great.

I was going to be fearless.

I became a great disappointment.

I am fearless for the wrong reasons.

Nothing can hurt me.

I am lost.

The buoyancy of hope that once bubbled behind my breast has been filled with lead.

Valentine's approaches.

I am lonesome.

I'm taking a break from Facebook.

For a week.

I hope.

I was hoping to write something of consequence today.

Another goal left underachieved.

I am so very lonely.

And awkward.

Apparently.

I kind of want to cut myself.

I do. Want to cut myself.

It's a different desire than normal though.

The routine more comforting than the wound.

I don't miss Michael.

But, I do miss the company.

And I feel terrible for it.

I want compatibility.

I want to be desired by someone worth desiring.

I want to tell you everything.

I want you to read what I write and be moved.

Even though it's pity party in text.

"If we are children, we just get lost."

ONE SETTLED COMFORTABLY IN THE CUCKOO’S NEST.

I just read it. 

It was stressful.

So stressful I needed company to read it.

Too bad the only company I had was a cigarette.

It was comforting.

Last night. It was difficult. In a lot of ways it was the hardest it's been in a while. In one way it was the easiest it's been ever. The tree. The tattoo. The goal. It's not for forever. It's 5 years. It's attainable. I looked at pictures. At pain. At wounds. I knew it would be detrimental to my efforts against self harm but I searched anyways. A midst the tags of  self harm and suicide were images of hope that did not belong.

There is always hope.

Station 30.

I don't want to write about this.

I really don't want to write about this.

I must?

Perhaps it is a part of the healing.

Facing my demons. 

My behaviors.

The ramifications.

I am lost.

I don't know where to begin.

But of course I've already begun.

And the shame is already seeping in.

So far from impenetrable is my armor.

Lost.

While on Station 30 I learned a lot.

I learned nothing in the groups.

I learned everything from the people.

I really don't want to write this post.

So I'm not going to. 

Maybe later.