If you're wondering how I can be writing so much every single day, it's simply because I literally don't do much else. I can write for hours at an end. Only good thing about being suicidal. That it increases my writing creativity. But then everything else is bad about being suicidal.
I like writing about other things than my eating disorder, but those other things rarely come to me these days. I'm often sad when I think about my past, even the good things about it. Mostly the good things, actually. Cause with them I compare and just see all that I've lost and is no more. The few good things that actually stayed are so few and sadly, I almost kinda take them for granted.
I try not to, like my family for example. I know a lot of people probably do take their families for granted, but you really shouldn't. I'm struggling with that, especially when I just find them annoying. And the cats too. Now another favourite of mine has run away and I just feel this empty, bleeding void inside of me when I think of him. I cannot feel, I cannot allow it.
That's exactly why I chose to lock my feelings away, that's a perfect reason. Cause I think if I do let myself truly feel, I would literally not be able to live. I could die at any moment then. Not just because of the cat, but because of everything that's been happening lately. I let myself freeze to ice cause it's the only way I can cope. It's better than to actually kill myself, isn't it? Or is it somehow worse?
To be alive, but not allow myself to truly live. Emotional suicide, by it's very definition. That's why I still take my medication, as the pills helps numbing me a bit. The mood stabiliser Lamotrigin and the anti psychotic Abilify, mostly. If my emotions were a chart, it would just be a straight line with some dips here and there. No peaks at all.
Was I ever not suicidal after they released me from the psych ward last time? Or did I just pretend to be better? I put on a shell and built a wall between me and your world. So that nothing could get in or out. Now I'm starting to let some things in again, but nothing, or rarely ever, anything out. Just these endless texts. I'm still keeping up appearances, to basically everyone but K. I wouldn't lie to him and why should I?
No, I feel safe talking to K about my darkness. He knows, he has darkness too. And always the right responses, he never makes me feel bad for feeling like shit. It's like a mutual acceptance, perhaps wishing for the other to get better. I love him to death and beyond, and I'm not romanticising, he really is that amazing to me. Perhaps I am still slightly dulled by my blind love, but that doesn't mean I'm not careful or actually trying my best to get to know him. The real him, and not some god damned ideal.
Was I ever better? No. It was just a facade. I tried so hard not to feel my heart shattering until it worked. I could no longer feel it. It was a very basic survival method for me, the only reasonable thing I could do in an unreasonable situation. The psych ward never helped me, I never wanted help. I just tried to follow their rules and advice, failed sometimes, until they deemed that I was better and sent me out again.
That's why I'm not going back there. Cause they have those stupid ideas that eating right, sleeping right, socialising right and activating myself right should cure all my problems. It just doesn't work that way. I'm not just having a bad week, I'm having a bad entire life. I no longer care about my sleep pattern, I love my eating disorder, I like isolating myself and no activities can ever "cure" me cause there's nothing to cure. There's nothing wrong with me.
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