Hopes Crushed, Dreams Shattered

TRIGGER WARNING SELF-HARM AND SUICIDAL THOUGHTS

Well I’ve had quite the up and quite the fall down, down, down. Don’t even know if I will make much sense in this post.

I feel stupid. Extremely stupid. Long story short I sent in some lyrics well as audio recordings of the songs to an email address from a website, they contacted me and wanted to sign a contract, and I was gearing up to sign and send them money but thankfully I called my parents first and my parents and friends pointed out the contract and website looked like a scam. And then found articles demonstrating how similar-looking websites were scams. I didn’t give them any money upfront like they asked, but I submitted almost all of the songs I had. And now they have my lyrics.

I want to cry. I did cry. I’ve just stopped crying. But I know I’ll be crying again. Not only because I was so excited and happy and thought that my dreams had come true when I was contacted, but also because now they have years of hard work that might now be stolen and used.

I feel all of the energy in my body is gone. I also just finished cutting. I was clean for so, so long, but this just pushed me over the edge. Between having zero friends where I am, two real friends in total, struggling to stay in school and dealing with the everyday that is BPD and now this. I feel like a complete failure. An idiot. I feel crushed. My drive is just gone. I always trust the wrong people. Why am I so stupid?

I felt the suicidal thoughts come in like a tidal wave, and like the waves it is coming in and out of my head, coming in strong and leaving abruptly, over and over again as I fight with myself, each wave stronger than the last.

Yes, maybe this is trivial to you. But I was already lost, and now I feel gone.

At least cutting helped me feel a bit better.

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Breathe Me Back to Life

Following a memory
Trying to find a cure it seems
When all I really want to do is sleep

Think I’m more alone than I realize
And now I don’t have time for lies
Just want someone to breathe me back to life

Please breathe me back to life

 

Let Me Hate You So I Can Forgive You

You apologize
You look me in the eyes
But I don’t want you to try
To fool me with these words
They lie

You say you’re sorry
But you turn on me
You just want peace
You want me
To leave

But what I want
Do you want to know?
I want you to fall you to your knees
And you don’t want to hear it
I want you to cry and hurt like you hurt me
I want you to accept my hate

I want you to let me hate you
I want you to accept that you were wrong
I want you to tell me that you are a terrible person

Because I want to forgive you
But I can’t
Unless you tell me to hate you
Tell me you were wrong
And then I’ll know that you were sorry
I’ll feel the truth

Because a secret I never tell
Is that I can’t stand
To see you cry
My heart will melt
My anger will dissolve
And I will comfort you
Because when I hurt you
I will be the evil one
And then maybe, maybe, things can be okay
You will forgive me, because I will already have forgiven you, and I mean it, and you see, you will feel my truth, and we will be equal in pain and caring love

But then
“Sorry” is all you give
And you walk away

It Wasn’t Love

The flame burned brightly in the night
But the night had tricked me, the flame claiming to be brighter than it was
And in the morning, the fire went out
The sun burned brighter than the flame
Beside the sun, the flame had no power, was nothing
An illusion of the most beautiful kind
But the truth of the sun was more beautiful, more kind
The light held me in a safe warmth, no danger like the flame
And under the morning sun, I knew you were the flame, and I knew then the truth I could only see from the clarity of the daylight
It wasn’t love

Lost in You

When you age when you leave this place will there be a trace of my face in your mind
Or will you erase with space and time
When you go off on your own alone and you’re taking your journey slow will you know my mind
Or will that be lost too

Talk to me like you still hold the patience long gone with your song
Give me a smile like you used to when I still had the chance to make you smile
Hold me for a while and sing to me your heart like you did in the night
Just hold me tight
Pretend it’s right

I got lost in you
the idea of what we could be
I got lost in you
Is that lost on you?

Isolated By My Phone

TRIGGER WARNING: TALKING ABOUT SELF-HARM AND OTHER IMPULSIVE BEHAVIOURS

So my phone just randomly stopped working, and now I am in full-out panic mode. I hate to be one of those people who needs to check their phone 24/7 and I like to think that I am not one of those people, but when I am living in another city and my phone is the only way to contact my parents, sister and boyfriend (aka my ENTIRE support system) I think panicking is understandable.

I hate hate HATE being unable to contact someone. When I couldn’t contact my boyfriend for his month of Basic Training in the Military I panicked for the. Entire. Month. I couldn’t calm myself – kind of like right now. Cutting. Drinking. Crying. Seeking people out. Someone. Anyone. I just wanted to be calmed down because I can’t calm myself.

I don’t know what to do. I know it’s a little irrational but it really feels like the end of the world. I have no one here that I trust. NO ONE. I feel more alone and scared than ever. I can’t focus on school, can’t focus on anything. I am trying to distract myself, or at least alleviate some of the fear by writing about it and getting it out of my system.

It isn’t working.

And I was having such a great day.

I am chanting don’t cut, don’t drink, don’t cut, don’t drink, don’t do anything rash, don’t run to Henry’s, just don’t, don’t, don’t

I want to cry. I want to scream. I feel like I might explode.

I can’t survive in isolation.

 

Things Left Unsaid

Dear Diana,

Do you remember when we used to hang out in your basement and watch America’s Funniest Home Videos? Or the many times we pretended to be superheroes on your trampoline? Or all those music videos we made together? The Saturday night sleepovers watching Mystery Hunters and Truth or Scare on the Discovery channel? I do. I miss those times.

I bet you don’t even think about me anymore. I don’t know who stopped calling first. I know you fell into the popular crowd – and I still liked dolls and imaginary games. I guess you just outgrew that stuff, and outgrew me.

I often wonder if we reconnected today, would we be able to replicate that closeness we once had? Would you even want to? Or am I just a part of your past now, happily forgotten? Is it weird that I still remember the good times and miss that?

I think the reason I have thought about you so long after we drifted is because I would still hear about you – I could never forget you because our parents still talked. Your dad and my dad would talk, and your mom sometimes called my dad to ask for advice. Another reason could be that in the midst of my depression I found myself reliving my past. So, there you go. Thinking about you. Hope you are well.

Dear Megan,

Do you remember when we were friends? I mean when we were really friends, not the type of distant sort of “honorary” friends we are now? When I talk about you, I give you the title of “best friend,” but you and I both know we haven’t really been that close for a long time now. I would be lying if I said I didn’t miss that closeness, but sometimes I feel resentful. What tore us apart? I’m not sure exactly how we ended, but I have an idea of how it started.

It was a Sunday afternoon and the phone was ringing. My chest tightened in annoyance as it always does when my solitude is disturbed.

“Hello?” I answered, and my voice raised an octave.

“Hey!” A voice responded cheerily. It was you, Megan.

“What’s up?” You asked enthusiastically. I glanced at the clock on the wall.

“Nothing really, I’m just working on some homework.” I responded slowly, gathering my patience. “Why do you call?”

“Oh, homework!” You sighed, drawing out the words. “Well, I was going to ask you if you wanted to hang out, but I guess never mind then.”

“Yeah, I’ve got a lot of stuff to do, sorry.” I answered distractedly, fidgeting as I stood.

“Well, maybe another time then.” You responded, softening your voice. I could tell that you knew you were losing my attention. I instantly felt ashamed.

“Another time.” I agreed too quickly, pacing around the room.

“Alright. Well, good luck with your work.” You sighed.

“Thanks.” I said, nodding.

“Bye.” You sighed again.

“Bye.” I said curtly, and then placed the cordless phone back in its cradle.

Do you remember that conversation? It’s conversations like these that we started having that marked the beginning of our drifting apart. We started annoying each other. It wasn’t dislike. It wasn’t hate. It was irritation. Contempt. I began to feel annoyed when you called, exhausted after you hung up. It’s easy to blame you and say it was because you treated me like a little kid, you belittled me – and you did – but it was also me. You were condescending. You needed everything to be your way. But you tried. You talked a lot about academics, and how easy everything was for you, but you couldn’t have known how it affected me. You didn’t know that that kind of talk exhausted me because I never told you. I just let us drift away. Maybe I even pushed you away. And when the depression hit, I just stopped caring at all. I had a hand in destroying us, and for that I’m sorry.

I know our conversations in grade eleven and twelve turned to conversations like these.

“Hello?”

“Hey.”

“Hey Megan.” I said wearily, glancing at the clock.

“What’s up?” You asked. I knew what you wanted. Even before you asked.

“Not much, just doing some piano practice.”

“Ah. I see. So you probably can’t hang out today.” Sometimes you made it easy for me.

“Yep.”

“Too bad.”

“Yeah.” I said, half meaning it. I loved you, but at the time social interaction seemed taxing.

“Grace and I have band practice tonight.”

“Cool.” I tried to sound enthusiastic, but the words came out sounding deflated.

“You know, Connor called me ‘Adeline’ the other day?”

“Really?” I tried desperately to sound intrigued.

“Yeah. Isn’t that weird?”

“Yeah. Weird.” I agreed.

“I guess those days are kind of over now.” I added, thinking out loud.

“Because we rarely see each other now. It’s like we don’t know each other.”

“Well, we don’t.” I said bluntly. “We’re kind of just phone pals now.”

There was a pause on the line. I instantly regret what I said. But then you answered.

“We could change that.” You said softly.

“We could.” I ventured.

“I have to go.” I said regretfully, peeking at the time. I hoped you didn’t hate me.

“Okay. Bye.” You hung up.

I stared at the phone for a minute, and clicked the off button. Maybe I put too much thought into these conversations. Maybe I didn’t put enough thought into these conversations. But I know that in time they stopped happening altogether.

Dear Chloe,

I don’t know why I didn’t ever really tell you how bad things got. I guess I just wanted to shelter you from it all. I thought you couldn’t handle it. I thought you wouldn’t want to be my friend anymore. And then, I just grew angry thinking that you had no respect for what I was going through. Remember when I began cutting? You couldn’t handle that. It was then that I stopped telling you things. I don’t hold it against you – it’s a lot for anyone to take it. I didn’t lean on you anymore. I don’t know if both of us changed or if it was just me, but I began to see you in a different light. You didn’t treat me well anymore, or maybe you never had. But I don’t think I actually believe that, or I wouldn’t be missing you like I do, would I? Though it did feel like a relief to see you go. I guess we just weren’t compatible anymore. Although in the end I was convinced I hated you, I only wish you well. But we both needed a clean break and to continue on with our lives apart. I still cherish the memories but know that you need to stay a memory now. I can’t forget the things you did to me and said to me, but I can forgive them. Goodbye, old friend.