Knowing nothing at all. ( May contain triggering content!)


Am I falling in Love, or fooling myself?

Day four off my meds, apparently I am more uneasy and worried about stuff without it.

I don’t want to fall in Love, or maybe it’s too late?

I don’t want it, don’t need it.
I’m fine on my own, right?

I’m getting attached, and that’s exactly what I did not want. I want to go back to not giving a damn about anything, just doing what I want without a second thought.

How did he change that ? Why did he change that? When ?

I don’t want to need anyone.
He doesn’t even know who I really am.

Or maybe he does ?

There’s so much that I do not know.
Like how he’s able to make me smile and laugh without even trying.
Or is he trying?

He doesn’t even have my complete trust. Or does he?

I know nothing anymore.

Have nothing in particular to say, yet words keep flowing, questions keep rising.

Maybe this is how I really want to write, lost, yet still knowing where I am.

Maybe I’m better when I’m off my meds? Or maybe I’m just slowly getting worse?

If I take my meds, I’ll give my body a shock, and my mind a breakdown. Do I really want that to happen again? I think not.

My blade is always with me, and each time I use it, on my nails or to open things, it feels like it’s getting sharper, yet more taunting.

A promise of destruction, red, wide, open.
I’m sure you know what I’m referring to.
If not, you are one of the lucky ones, and I hope you’ll stay like that.

My arms are scarred, and so is my thigh. There are even scars under my tattoo, but I’m the only one who knows.

Bruising and dragging my nails violently over my own skin, in a desperate hope to slice it open.

Yet A part if me hopes that I’ll fail. That part is getting smaller, fading away.

I want it, but I don’t, yet I still do.

Is it still about relief, or is it just about destruction now? I myself do not know.

Maybe it is me who is fading away, slowly, little by little.(?)

Another mindless ramble, feelings disconnected, lost.

Maybe I write better this way, maybe people understand me more now?

But that’s not something I can say wih certainty, because I do not stand on the outside, looking in. I’m in the middle of it, trying desperately to get a glimpse of the outside. To reconnect myself to the world.

So maybe you’ll see me, looking back at you, as you squint your eyes, trying to get a look at the small glimpse I’m trying to show you of my world.

Maybe does it make more sense to you than it does so me right now.

I just feel like a blur, floating around, not sure about anything.

It occurs to me that I in fact, know nothing at all.

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Trust.


Trust may be easy or hard to gain, but yet so easily taken away.

Trust is something that I treasure more than I could ever put into words. So when someone says that they no longer trusts you, for no apparent reason, it hurts, right?

I keep losing the ones I want in my life, those I care about.

Maybe they don’t think I cherish them enough? Or maybe they just think I’m poisoning their lives. Which I understand completely.

My presence is poisonous, I break people without even trying. They just stick around for long enough, and then they realize that I cannot be fixed, therefore I cannot be trusted(?)

Mindless gibberish I know.
But when someone tells me out of nowhere that they do not trust me anymore, that they haven’t for a long time, and leaves before I get a chance to even ask why. That shit hurts

I don’t trust easily, and right now, not at all. Because everyone leaves, they always do. No matter how hard I try to hold onto them, they slip through my fingers.

I need no one, and no one needs me. That’s how it’s supposed to be. That is safe.

Not caring, not trusting. Safe.

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Disconnected


Im sitting here at the train station, or rather standing, I swap between the two. I’m restless. The train doesn’t leave for about an hour, and it’s completely empty.
I feel like I should write, but as usual, I have no idea what to say.
I feel disconnected from myself, from everything. I get the urge to run away. Run and never look back, just go up in smoke, disappear.
I want to, but I can’t. Why? Because of all my goddamn responsibilities, they keep me going, they keep me alive. For how long, I cannot say.

I need a break from reality, some peace of mind even. A break from being me.

My urges to harm myself have intensified, and so far I’ve only bruised and scratched my skin, but who can say how long it’ll take before I break?
I’m lost, and I don’t care about anything.

Nor do I really care about what I say. Not that I really have any idea what to say either.

Empty, just completely empty.