Harley

Steady Thoughts In An Unstable Mind
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2017-11-14 21:30:20 (UTC)

Don't Act Like A Child

Isn't that what I do? Isn't that what always happens? I have that stupid, childish belief that if I just go home, this will all be fixed.
If I just find the place I want to call home, the voices will go away, I can have a good, real sleep. If I just go home, I can be happy, and I don't have to worry about all of these problems.
But each new home is worse than the last, and I don't know how I'm supposed to know when to stop. I guess I should have stopped a while ago. Instead, I got on a speeding train heading straight where I don't want to be, in a time I don't believe I belong in. So how do I fix this?
Do I tell Will, or Don, or somebody else to look for the monsters underneath my bed, and tell me that it's all safe? Do I tell them not to turn off the hallway light, or the closet light when it's time to go to bed? What am I supposed to do?
Maybe a better question is: What am I supposed to expect? I have to wonder if I'm supposed to expect anybody to be able to show up, and make me happy. Am I allowed to be happy? Because I feel like all I am is tired, and lost. I have a fear of living like a child has a fear of going outside, alone at night. Alone to face off with whatever unknown, unimaginable monster is waiting in the darkness. Alone, with nothing to hope for, except that I can run back home, before the monster gets me. Before the scary thing drags me away, and takes me into nowhere.
I have a headache. Everywhere. It all feels like I'm dying. Like my body is finally starting to catch up with the rest of me, and finally quit. Everything is telling me to give up, but I can't even block it all out long enough to quit.
I want to cut. I feel the overwhelming urge to relapse worse then I thought I could. I don't feel the knot in my chest like I used to. It's not that tight ball of emotion that used to build up, and make me feel like I needed a release. There's no urge to cry like there used to be. At least, not in the same way. This time it's not those big, dramatic, sobs that used to happen, it's quiet. Like this blanket coming over me, and taking everything away. It's a cry of mourning, not loss, or pain.
I don't know. I don't have a way to handle things like this.
I Just Want A Break,
Harley
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