Victims

All you want to do is stay in bed for the rest of your life because the thought of moving from that warm cocoon to face the world just makes you want to cry.

Your friends can’t help you because you’re pretty certain they don’t even like you that much anymore. Which is ok really, because you don’t much like them anymore either. But then you start to think about that and you get to feeling lonely and that just makes you want to cry.

And then that moment comes, when you start thinking that you’re no good at anything. And it’s not self pity, this train of thought, it’s just realisation. And you wonder why you bother trying at anything at all because you know you’re going to fail, and that just makes you want to cry.

And it is all of these things, and none of them that make you feel small and insignificant and so incredibly sad. You don’t really know why you feel this crushing, debilitating agony but that doesn’t stop you from feeling it. You can’t explain because there is no one reason for your sadness, and everything else that you’re upset about is just the result of your broken mind and it’s messed up thought processes.

Unless you’ve been there, in that darkest of places within your own head, then I guess this doesn’t much make sense to you. I’m not trying to say that you cannot sympathise but just that you cannot truly understand. It is not a thing that can just be ‘fixed’. It is not something that goes away. It is not something you can just get over. It is inherently part of you and you can no more cut it out than you could your own heart.

Depression. Anxiety. Self harm. It doesn’t matter what form our pain comes in. It doesn’t matter whether you take up a knife to carve future scars in your skin or whether your own brain is the knife, and the scars it leaves are invisible to the eye. In the end, we are all just victims of ourselves.

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