IRC-Galleria

I don't know how I got this far without you.
I miss you more than anything.

I don't know what to do without you,

I don't know where to put my hands,

I've been trying to lay my head down,

But I'm writing this at three AM.


I don't need the world to see,

That I've been the best I can be, but,

I don't think I could stand to be,

Where you don't see me.


On sunny days I go out walking,

I end up on a tree-lined street,

I look up at the gaps of sunlight,

I miss you more than anything.

I don't need the world to see,

That I've been the best I can be, but,

I don't think I could stand to be,

Where you don't see me.

And autumn comes when you're not yet done,

With the summer passing by, but,

I don't think I could stand to be,

Where you don't see me.

The day after I learned you were gone, I went straight to school. Every teacher knew what had happened so I guess I was under a lot of surveillance.
I remember sitting in front of this canteen table, all of the lights being off because the whole room is empty. I remember the whirring sound of those dish-washing machines just drilling into my ears.
The cook just put some food on my plate and I was told to eat.
I remember not being able to put anything in my mouth. The thought, the smell, everything about that plate of meatballs disgusted me.
I stared at my plate while this lady was telling me I have to eat at LEAST one, then she would let me go to class.
I didn't have any kind of appetite for anything. And the thought of the school day being over and knowing you wouldn't be there to pick me up anymore, ever, was harder to handle than the thought of swallowing that one fucking meatball.
I took half a bite. Didn't swallow. She told me I could go, and while carrying my tray away I spat it out on the plate. Burnt as shit.
I can't recall anything else.
I can't recall some years.

I never would have thought that the only thing left of you would be a gravestone and a necklace.
I was never prepared to face this earth and be forced to forget your voice.
I was never prepared to grow up.
Within a chain reaction of events I am now more lost than I was the day I lost you.

Because almost ten years ago I promised I'd never plan ahead.
The most I ever got to was fifteen.
But the realization never hit until I turned 16.
Ever since that day I have been utterly lost. I have stood with a knife to my stomach trying to gather the courage to stab it through me so I could finally rest.
And all it took for me to drop the knife was my phone going off.
In that moment I was thinking perfectly. And I would be lying if I said those thoughts changed at some point.
Looking back at it, it wasn't even me snapping out of the thought.
It was just curiosity. What if something happened to my friend? Is she okay? She wouldn't be able to handle my death. My mom wouldn't.
And at that moment I realized I have to live for other peoples sake. Not for my own.

And even after all those years nothing has changed.
It's a never-ending dilemma of wanting to stay because I'm carrying something heavier than my own life. I'm carrying other lives as well.
But at the same time, I can't do this. I don't want to carry this. I am so. Exhausted. Drained. I am worn out.
But I have to be here. I have the obligation.
The responsibility.
I have to carry this.
And I can't even talk about this.

I can't take this.
I just want to scream.
I'm so sorry but I can't handle myself alone.
I'm so sorry but I need someones support.
I need comforting.
Because I never got that from anyone.
I've had to grow up thinking these feelings were wrong and,
I shouldn't show them to anyone.
My feelings are a burden.
For once I would like to believe my feelings matter.
And that I'm not being annoying or a burden by crying.
I'm sorry.
I don't know who I'm apologizing to.

I don't want to open up.
I feel like whenever I talk about how I truly feel,
I drive everyone around me away.
I feel like it's a line in the sand for people.
I feel like people can't handle me.
That I'm too much.
I don't want to cry alone though.
I don't want to be alone.
Please someone.

I had to learn about anxiety at age 8.
I had to learn about depression at age 8.
I had to learn about death at age 8.
I had to try to understand the concept of suicide, at age 8.
I had to learn to keep myself alive, fed, at age 8.
I had to learn to live without support, at age 8.
I had to wonder if my own mother hated me, at age 8.
I had to wonder if it should have been me instead.
I can't keep myself together.
I am barely alive.

tunnen oloni seksikkääksi ja hyvännäköiseksi kun olen:
1. ilman meikkiä
2. väsynyt
3. masentunut

en osaa uskoa et näytän tältä.

en vaan jaksa.
en halua tehdä muutakuin tuntea oloni välitetyksi ja rakastetusti.
en tunne oloani hyväksi. en haluu olla yksin.
ansaitsinko kaiken mitä koin?
en ymmärrä miten olen tässä.
this is a cry for help-