Trapped in my own head

failed attempts

TW: Contains attempts of self destruction. Might be disturbing to some readers.

I walk into the room as a
happy person from the outside,
and as a depressed person from the inside.
And when I walk back out,
a part of me is dead
because of all the failed attempts.
I don't know what to do.
I've tried pills and cuts.
Yet nothing seems to work.

The pills only make my vision blurry,
and my eyes heavy,
as I drift away into a world in which I am happy.
A dream.
Only to wake up and find that
nothing has changed.

The cuts ease my mental pain,
distracting me,
and making me think about the physical ache,
yet not changing my reality one bit.
And I sit still, with my eyes shut,
waiting for my pulse to get slower and weaker,
as the copious amount of warm, red fluid
oozes out through the ripped flesh.
But when my eyes jolt open,
I only see a layer of scum over the wound.
And it breaks my heart to see the way my body fights
to help me survive.
Everlasting ache.

I don't hate my scars because they are ugly.
I love them because each one tells a heart wrenching story.

***

PS: Hey there, I know this is hard. But I also know that you are so strong. Just please don't give up.