Living To Die?

[Lets just say I ‘opened’ my head, and these were the thoughts and random things I got from there.]

Have you ever wondered why am I here, what am I here for?

I wonder about that a lot, like was there a reason, or maybe a purpose for me turning out to be the person I am today, now? Is there a reason I’m going through all this, is it for a greater challenge or something better?

A stranger once told me that everything you do makes an impact on the people around you, no matter what you do or say, you sort of change them, for better or worse.

This stranger made me see things in another light when all I saw was darkness, I was ready to finish it all, made me realize, see that if I chose to leave then, I would cheat people from the experiences they would get from me. (Not sure if it makes sense to anyone but me)

I’m not trying to sound like I’m all better than anyone else, but that was literally, word for word what he said to me, and at that point, that was what reached through to me and made me think.

The final ending always seems like the easy way out, it still does, but just because it’s easy, it doesn’t make it right, fair.

I have people keeping me here, reasons to go on when everything’s working against me, not because I’m suicidal or anything, but I like to keep on to those reasons.

Like the main reason is my youngest brother, he’s just turned seven and from the day he was born he’s always been the person I’ve been emotionally closest to in my whole family, in my whole life. And I would love to say that that’s the reason keeping me here, but it’s not, the reason is that he’s depending on me being there, he hates it when I’m away for too  long, and I hate seeing him sad.

There are a few more reasons, but the second most important reason is, I’m just not ready to leave yet. No matter how much easier it would be to just surrender completely to the voice telling me that I’m a worthless piece of shit that needs to be punished, that people would be better off without me, I just can’t do it, it’s not right towards me, the people who care about me or to anyone else.

The truth behind the mask.

If I would ask people to describe me with one word, it would probably be something like; outgoing, random, perv, funny, confident and maybe even talkative, but all that talking and confidence is really just an act, I cover up all my insecurity, my lack of self confidence with laughter and loads of talking.

If you saw me out with my friends, all laughing and talking, you would see one person, but be a fly on the wall when I’m at home, you’d see a completely different person.  Sure I sometimes am very talkative, pervy and laughing a lot at home too, but yeah.

I don’t know why I wrote all this, but it felt good just letting it out. My thoughts about stuff, and everything. Sure most of it might sound different to you, for all I know I might sound suicidal or god knows what, but I’m just I don’t know, interested in death? There’s just something about it that captures me, tickles my mind even.

But like I said, it might sound different to you; it depends on your ability to read between the lines, and what you find there.

Are we all just living to die, or is there something more to it?”

Bekka- InsideOut




Long time no see, aye?

I really haven’t felt like writing lately, at all, like I’ve sort of refused to deal with things, I don’t know to be honest.

I’m also scared that if I dig too much into my mind by writing, I make everything so much worse, but do I?

I mean, will I make it worse with trying to work it all out, trying to make it make sense to me? Probably not, but you can’t blame me for being careful.

My last session with my therapist ended badly, I wanted to tell her about something that had happened to me, which worried me a little, but it was like I convinced myself that it wasn’t even important enough to be brought up. And I told her that, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell her what was really bothering me. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it before, but here it is;

The thing I didn’t manage to talk about was that incident with my mum, she forced me to go to school, and I went up in the bathroom to brush my teeth, because I didn’t have a choice but to go. And my mum had and has a problem with her back, so driving hurts her back a lot. She stood outside the bathroom waiting with her car keys, telling me to hurry up so she could drive me, and I said no, I’m taking the bus.

I felt bad for her, I didn’t want her to be in pain just because of me, and at the same time I felt horrible for saying no to her, she was only trying to help, and there’s me acting like some stuck up piece of shit saying no.

And there in the middle of everything, me silently crying in the bathroom while mum gave up and went downstairs, I looked at myself in the mirror and out of no where, this thought, it was like it wasn’t mine, I didn’t think it, like someone threw it at me, I was so shocked.  Didn’t know what to believe, because I knew and I know that that thought wasn’t coming from me, at least not that I’m aware of anyway.

Like there was another part of me, having a go at me, telling me how worthless I was. Even though it was only one single thought, but I just can’t let it go.

Another thing that has been bothering me these last days is that I’m so angry, at myself for some reason, it’s on the limit to self destructive, I feel very strong urges to just find something and stab myself with, even cut my arm off, but I won’t do it though.

But it’s so confusing. Where did all this anger come from?

Things have been going better lately, emotionally, I haven’t been feeling as down or sad as before, and that’s a good thing isn’t it?

But still I seek things that make me feel sad, makes me want to hurt myself, even though I don’t want to, not really, but I keep convincing myself otherwise.

I want to take myself seriously, I do, but how can I when the reasonable part of me is telling me I’m being overdramatic about it? That it’s not serious enough to even be considered.

Like when I’m at my sessions with my therapist, I get a sort of scale to tell her my mood set, like if 1 is really bad, 5 is normal and 10 is like the best, and I tell myself I’m not feeling bad enough to set a mark below 5, so I might put a mark on 7 or 8 just because I’ve convinced myself that it’s not serious enough even though I really know that it is.

I might feel like 2 or 3, but put my mark as 7 or 8, and I know how wrong it is, and it’s not helping me or anyone, but I don’t feel like I’m sort of worthy to put my mark where I really feel it should be, or I don’t know. I don’t even know if I’m making any sense right now.

I just hope I’ll be able to bring this up at the session on Wednesday, but time will show.

“I wanted a perfect ending. Now I’ve learned, the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next. Delicious Ambiguity.”

Bekka – InsideOut