A Life of Lies

Have you ever told yourself you don’t matter? That everyone would be better off without you?

I have.

For a while when I was battling the worst of my depression, I would wonder while driving that if I veered my car off the road and crashed into something with enough impact, would I die or would it be a botched attempt. Yes, that was often a thought that I had. However hard that may be to swallow.

I had so much pain built up inside of me, writing about it all only took a bit off the top. I never wanted to see a counselor because, well, when I went through my parents divorce, seeing a counselor didn’t really help. It only caused me to talk about superficial things. I was never really one, even at a young age, to disclose my feelings because most of the time they were overlooked or tromped on. I learned far too young that anything that hurts you personally, you take it and keep it to yourself and move on. With that, I also learned to distance myself and be a hermit.

By being a hermit it allowed me to quietly and gently cut my wrists in junior high with very few noticing. It allowed me to fully engage in finding music that resonated with me and made me feel things that temporarily made me feel alive. It also opened the doors to realizing that empty relationships are where it’s at when you just need some sort of attention. It’s sad, when I look back, and see how much I thought I cared about someone but all I wanted was for them to be there for me, and give me their all and I’d only give 50% at best because of all the pain harbored inside of me.

It’s weird to think that it was only a decade ago when all hell broke loose. When I really began being a hermit. When I really just wanted to do everything to keep people from questioning why I was flinching over small things. Forcing a smile. Barely eating.

It took everything for me not to talk about my abuse and now it’s one thing that I want to talk about to raise awareness. It’s odd to me how things have done a 180 in that regard. Along with my own personal life. But I guess when you’re empty, you’ll do anything to feel any sort of compassion. Drink, fuck, lie. You’ll do anything to feel anything.

I feel like I experienced something that most do at a later age.. at far too young of an age. No sixteen year old should become a tri-sport athlete just to avoid being home at lone with a creep (who you later found out molested two of his nieces daughters and when he was going to get charged for it, committed suicide). Just life… life is never the picture perfect thing we want it to be. Yet, we live on, in hopes of something better.

Anything better.

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