Labyrinth Thoughts

The tears run down my cheeks like acid. It burns, but maybe it's the anger inside that's boiling; it's kind of hard to tell, and I guess it doesn't really matter because it hurts nonetheless.

There is so much in my head right now and I can't sort my thoughts, even for myself. I'm confused and lost and detached from the world, the labyrinth of my mind my prison.

Two things happened this week in my world of craziness; I hit five weeks and it's been two years. Both of these things are hard for me to process. At the same time I can't pretend they aren't there, it's all part of my story, and to heal from any pain I hold within I know that I need to face it all; I can't pick and choose. 

Let me back up and explain- five months is the amount of time that I have made it without turning to that old straight edge demon. Five... Five is still nothing in the scheme of things, I want more, I want forever to come, I want an actual reason to feel proud of where I am now. I'm not fair. I know that I am not fair; I have made it through more than most anyone could imagine, for that mighty enemy that I once chose to call friend is with me everyday. I have to say that today I will make it, today I will survive, nothing can get in my way. But wait, how can it be? That smooth silver blade, fresh, sharp...it calls to me, it reminds me that no matter what, it is the only one who can evade the pain. Every time I pull off its little cardboard vest I pause to remind myself that I am someone's inspiration to fight, and if I give in that's just saying that's ok. I guess there it is, the proof that I have strength, that I am healing, forever too far to imagine....but if I can go each day without falling into the temptation of my own monster, I am heading in the right direction.

Two years. Well, I want to pretend the day doesn't exist, but I can't, it's an extremely important day in my life. Not only because that day my parents could've been visiting my grave, but because that day, in a way, was the beginning of it all. I should be dead, I was so close to my own demise that the mere thought of it throws all of me back into that day. FLASH car FLASH goodbye texts FLASH drive FLASH turn myself in, a prisoner to everyone love FLASH long ride to the Psychiatric Hospital FLASH the beginning, the place where I couldn't get any lower. But I could fight to get higher, and that's exactly what I did. You see, those flashes could have easily ended after goodbye texts, no more memory would flash through my mind because no more life would be inside me. This is how far I have come, good or bad, I have made it two very rough years, I have made it through (what feels like) a million different meds, but after two years things are starting to feel like maybe I can be better. Maybe despair and fear and anger aren't all there is for me. I am a survivor, a fighter, a normal human being. My story is nowhere near the end, by my own hand at least. So every single day, no matter how low I feel, I can return to that day and know it's been worse. I made it then and I can make it now.

This isn't where I saw my life, not at all actually. Really, you learn to roll with the punches no matter how badly they hurt. Everyone has the strength to overcome.... in the end, it's all about having the patience to let things get better.