For this blog to really depict my mental state and battle, I have to blog how I'm feeling right when I'm feeling it, which is why there has been an influx of posts in the past week. As I said before, this has been a horrible week. So to the post.
If I were bipolar, this would be the depressive part of the cycle. This is the part when I'm so down that I hold the pill bottle in my hand as I shake and question. Do I do it? I'm so alone. I feel as if I've lost a brother, and I have. The song in the title depicts my feeling right now, in a sense. Please don't get me wrong, I still have my amazing boyfriend, but girls need more than boyfriends, they need friends. And in some odd twist of fate I've lost another one. I'm the Black Friend (like the black widow). My boyfriend is the only man who was been able to withstand my actions which normally drive others away. I won't list real names, but everyone will have a name. I'll tell you my story..
First was Lerry. I met him years ago on the beach. My attachment was strong as it always is when guys. I got clingy and needy and was willing to do whatever it took to keep him as my friend. Of course that pushed him away. He took a very small piece of me with him. But he came back years later, and the cycle repeated. Just two months ago he returned, but this time I didn't give him a piece. This time I knew I was sick. I knew I had to be careful.
Next was Iriano. Beautiful person, we clicked immediately. I honestly had no feelings for him, none at all. He didn't interest me in the slightest. But I also got very attached. That's to say the least. Of course I scared him away, why wouldn't I? Actually, it was making my illness much worse to be around him, so it was a necessary separation. I met him during my first real time away from my boyfriend. I met him after my suicide attempt, and I thought for so long that he saved my life. I felt indebted to him, like he was better than men. I guess it was that Superhero complex. He honestly just stepped into my life at a wrong time. Or perhaps it was a right time, because I'm still here today. Only God knows.
Last was Clario. I'm sure you remember him from an earlier blog post. He was like a brother to me. After the first incident where he didn't protect me, he made it his mission to protect me from any and everything from that point on. Including my terrible hallucinations. He was there for every tear and such, we've known each other for a while, but it wasn't until recently that we started to get to know one another. He was a bit on the manipulative side, and I fell for it like I always do, but he wasn't a bad person. And I could tell that he really gave a damn. I allowed myself to trust that he wasn't going to go anywhere, so I allowed himself to become a part of me. He was family to me... But I wasn't family to him. He cared for me in an inappropriate way, and as usual, I handled it wrong. I always have this fear that people are going to leave me, so I do whatever I think they want. Well I messed up, it was my fault I think sometimes. Other times I know it wasn't. Well Clario was taken from me. We aren't allowed to talk or anything, and this is the most recent and most painful wound. Luckily I still have my boyfriend. It's hard to find people close to your age who actually give a damn. He was my battle buddy, and now I feel like I'm alone. My boyfriend doesn't quite understand the troubles I'm facing. He tries, but it's hard.
So now I'm walking around feeling as if I've been ripped apart. I'm so down and depressed. All I want to do is hide in a dark place. Closure is important to me, and I wasn't given the chance to have it with Clario. My wounds are so plentiful and so deep I often don't want to survive them. Who would? Clario and my boyfriend were both guys who I thought of when I sang "Crawl (carry me through) by Superchick. I can't let my boyfriend bear the weight of my illness alone so I'm back to forcing it all inside, but letting out some of it here. Death is sitting next to me, waiting. But I have a family. I have a man who loves me. I have a support system adults wide. But why can't I find acceptance from people my own age? Why am I so vulnerable? And so alone? Why can't my family be enough? I don't know. I feel so terribly all the time because of this. This illness is ruining my life. I don't have much left, and I can see my life falling a part. I see a mother who smokes because she doesn't know how else to handle her daughter. I see a father who drinks in order to deal with it. A sister whose anger sears through my soul. She might be the main reason I won't commit suicide. Because if survive, I'll have to face her anger again. She doesn't understand. But unless you're in my shoes, who does?
Whitney, Austin, and Death