Twenty-Four: Watch Me Bleed

Twenty-Four

I haven’t written in s long. I’m sorry. I’ve been falling into depression and angst. I wrote this tonight in a letter form but I don’t know who to…is that weird?

Disclaimer: If you are in a super happy mood, please don’t read this until later because it’s a little somber. I don’t mean to vent to you and I don’t know why I am but… guess now that this is the part of the movie scene where we have the big confession and you call me psycho; then never talk to me again.

It’s 3:55 am and I still sit writing. You probably won’t remember me telling you I was because it was Thursday; and we both know what that means.

I keep thinking about what you said about if you were to ever leave, then maybe she’d try to kill herself or you and I know you don’t mean that literally but it makes me contemplate…would I do the same? Am I going to be a good friend to you or drown you in my sorrows? Will I just bring you down into my petty despairs?

I don’t want that for you. As much as I try to be happy and carefree…I’m not. I’ll admit it – I’ve came a long way since my younger days of self-mutilation, self-hate, and ruining my body with malnourishment – but the darkness – it’s still there and it won’t go away.

I try so hard to be the person they all want me to be. My mother wanted me to be some pageant queen who has no problems so I hid them. I had to be perfect or not be at all. I have to be the strong person for my friends – the one they can depend on to have all the answers and give all the hugs necessary until they feel better. The one who doesn’t sleep until I make sure they’re all safe and sound while I stay up and worry about them – or something else. Always something.

The insomnia and depression so overbearing at times that life seemed to be a struggle. Every day I would wake up and wonder why I did. I was doing everything I could to not make it look like it was on purpose….but not even that was enough. I couldn’t even…I guess it doesn’t matter. I still woke up and endured the same routine day after day.

I had no refuge or sanctuary. I would tell my friend about my emotions but he had no idea how to handle them. Nobody did. I was the beautiful girl whom everyone thought was fragile and broken. I tried not to be. I painted the smile so well, I thought. I would look in the mirror and see pure disgust. I spent 2 hours on my face and hair every day and yet feel so uncomfortable. People even asked me why I walked with my head down and I never would answer them. I didn’t know. How can someone win a superlative as most friendly when she felt so alone? She felt she didn’t have any friends at all.

Destructive friendships turned into explosive relationships where I gave all my energy into taking care of others when they wouldn’t give me half of their-selves. I probably deserved it. I wasn’t giving them enough obviously. I became an object of eye-candy to them. They fed me with lies while I naively drunk every word. I longed for the promises they made but at the end of the day – they jut wanted one thing, and I would leave them for it. They’d call me a tease of course – it was my fault but at least I had my dignity.

Even today I sit here and pour my heart out and for what? It doesn’t make me feel any better. It makes me feel weak. It makes me feel like I’m just wanting a pity party when I don’t. I haven’t had a friend in so long I am scared. I don’t know how to handle this. What if I mess up again? What if I cross the boundaries and we end awkwardly? Over the past week – you’ve been here for me more than anybody else (even my boy-friend of almost 4 years.) I don’t want to lose you but I know I may push you away.

I am moody at times. I can laugh one minute and cry the next. I don’t want to take you down with me. You have to promise to stay. I have no idea why I am writing this and I’m sorry. I’ll shut up now and let you sleep.

Goodnight.

Sincerely
Katrina

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