On my 21st birthday, i found myself in Carrier Clinic, a mental hospital, miles and miles from home – and alone, deserted both by Evan, my best friend and Steve, my boyfriend. Evan is the reason i was hospitalized in the first place. He wrongfully accused me of planning to hex him and those he loved and of being on drugs. Only one of these things is true and he seemed more concerned with the one that is not. From then on he wanted nothing to do with me, so naturally i shouted “I’m gonna fucking kill myself”, drove away to Walgreens and downed 150 Tylenol and 100 OTC sleeping pills. They eventually found me and brought the police but i ran like hell until i was handcuffed and held to the ground. Now i am truly and predictably alone with myself and my mind. I just got discharged today but while i was there i found myself aloof and disturbing, I had the most colorful flashback drug dreams about heroin and all i want to do now that i am back home is use but my parents took away my credit card and now i have no money. They also plan on periodically drug testing me which, albeit, isn’t the end of the world. It not going to stop me at least.
I feel sick tonight – the quality of night. The darkness seems to seep into my pores and turn me into one of the monsters that hides so cunningly in it. It’s cold out tonight too. I was just out smoking a cigarette and my dark yard seemed intimidating, I will have no more goodnight calls from Steve and i will never have the warm comfort of knowing Evan will be there to talk to. I have no hobbies and I’m not particularly good at anything. I fear that I will be alone forever. All my comforts have been stripped from me and my emotional state of mind is the equivalent of a cardboard box in the rain.
Being Bipolar and Borderline sucks.
i like to think that no one knows what i am but i can’t hide forever. i want to be a teacher eventually – i think. it could just be the line i’ve been fed for so long that i believe its what i actually want. whatever. it’s not like i can ever even be that – one look at my medical records and i’d be fucked. the hospitalizations, the rehab, the (prescribed) drugs alone – it paints a picture of sickness that i can’t ever escape. i can’t ever escape it because it’s true. i am a mess.
i lost my boyfriend, the good boy that loved me once. i’m not sure if he does anymore – i don’t even know if he still thinks about me. he won’t answer my calls but the last thing he said to me was that if i finished rehab then we would be able to talk about “the possibility of getting back together.” but who knows, it’s probably a ploy to give me hope so i don’t kill myself on the spot. he probably thinks that me going to rehab will fix me and my dark thoughts but it wont. ill make sure of that. i have it all planned. as soon as we talk and it goes south, as it probably will – that’s it. i’m done.
i’d like to have hope but i just don’t. i’m going to rehab to check it off the list. i still smoke cigarettes but i have been clean since i ODed two or three weeks ago. i want to say i almost died, but i don’t think i did. i just lost my boyfriend and scared everyone. but next time won’t be a fuck up. the next time i go for suicide – i’m not going to fail. i’m sick of failures. it needs to be perfect, and it will be. gah i wish i had some acid and a locked colorful room for the rest of my life. i don’t want to go on without escape and i don’t think i can. someone at rehab is bound to have connections, they always do. if there is a time to do drugs its now, while steve is out of my life. now is the time. there is no salvation but there is escapism and that’s all i can go on for now.
i can’t even put into words how much i despise myself. i am worse than an addict, bipolar, ocd, rape-victim, eating disordered individual who probably has daddy issues. i am a girl who hurts literally everything in her path. i want to change that, but i fear it’s too late for me. one last desperate act will seal the deal and show the world the ugly little child i am and always have been. i just need a way out of this mess i call my life. i need to get out.