Just some stuff from my old journals
I have looked in mirrors and not recognised the person staring back at me
I have sat alone at events wondering how long it would take for someone to notice
I have been on stages, and never performed as myself
I have read thousands of words because I needed to escape
I have written thousands of words because I am lost, I am so lost and then I am found and then I am not and then I don’t want to be
I have downloaded apps and videos and music to keep me breathing because I have days where doing so without isn’t an option
I have walked around with rocks where my heart should be
I’ve had lengthy conversations with Death and catch up sessions with the universe
I have existed in the spaces between everything else because I never knew how to exist in any other way
I have tried my best everyday to help people because I don’t think I get saved in this story
I think it ends with self-destruction
So I’m sorry if I’m too vulnerable for your liking. I’m sorry if I can’t hide the worst parts of me because I am broken and I’d rather save someone else than save me. I am sorry if you think I’m romanticizing an illness that became my identity way before any diagnosis. I’m sorry if the scars on my body make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry that the only reason I’m here is because of the best people I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing, even if it was never in person and feel like I have to fill this space because I would never have seen 14 if it hadn’t been for them. I’m sorry that I’m so messed up.
Would you like me to apologise for breathing too?
I have. Often. I do.
I am so sorry