Sleep is for The Weak

Ugh.  I hate insomnia.  I hate even more this pseduoinsomnia that likes to hang around me like a depressed cloud. I'm not really suffering from insomnia right now, no, I've suffered from that before where I was lucky to get two hours a sleep for every three days awake. No, this is a fake insomnia where I am simply too bored with sleeping to sleep.  If I tried right now, I could sleep, easily.  But the problem is I really don't want to.

I'm bored and raging, hypo-manic and it's showing.  Little sleep, high sex drive, easily agitated, and very self destructive.  I want to cut again, not out of depression or emo fatalistic desperation.  I want to cut for the thrill of it, the blood, the damage.  I want to feel justified in feeling this crazy.

Sigh.

I can't handle this cooped up feeling.  Two more days of "freedom" if you can call it that.  Fuck. IDK anymore.  No one wants to believe that I'm messed up.  Am I that good at lying? I still feel crazy.  Damaged.  Deranged.  Part of me wants to die and end the damn suspense. 

Oh lord. Do I want to cut. Destroy something. Be angry. Rage.

I guess this is goodbye

Well, this is unfourtnate.
That you, a woman of strong conviction,
and such a strong heart,
would be left so alone.

Even you,
with your lies and crazy conspirarcies,
your hate and utter inablity
to be a sane mother,
even you deserved more.

You tried, so hard,
but you just weren't cut out for that mother thing.
And, well,
I hate to admit this to you but,
mom,
you ruined my life. 

I am by no means a good daughter,
I got that from you,
I suppose.

Still, I loved you.
And I held your hand until you took your last breath.
As poetic and cliche as that is. 
I know you didn't know I was there-
your brain was somewhere else,
drowned in K+, Na+,
electrically imbalanced and lacking shock value,
but goddamnit I was there for you.
I was there for you even if you were never there for me.

Because, beneath the depression and suicide attempts and the
sheer insanity of your life-
you were just a scared little girl, looking for her mom,
abandoned by cruel indiffrerence,
and a childhood lost too quickly.
Beneath the demands and the bitterness,
you were trying damn hard to be the mom you didn't have.
Beneath the illness and disease was the beautiful women I called my mom.


I didn't talk to you for months,
no one did.
And while you hung on,
my sister begged you to accept her forgiveness
for all the shit you did.
I silenlt prayed,
that you would forgive us,
for all we did to you.
And thanked for,
for the brief moment,
we were all together again.

You were a terrible mom,
but goddamn you were my mom.

Oh..just wow.

Soo...Mr. Boyfriend's Best Friend...

Hitting on your best friend's girlfriend (i.e. ME) is a really, really, really stupid idea.

1. He will murder you
2. He will no longer be friends with you
3. Your depression will get worse
4. He will murder you

Untitled

I can't  believe you don't even notice anymore. Does this mean you no longer care?

I cannot tell anymore.

Wow. WTF life?

What a horrible, terrible, utterly inconvenient time for insomnia to set in; and the ex boyfriend to pop up out of goddamn left field.  Shit.

FML

I am such a horrible person.
But I hate him.
I hate him for having the opportunities to get help, to get someone to listen to him, to get the chance to get better.
Goddammit, I deserve better than feeling like this.

I shouldn't be jealous of someone for attempting suicide.
I shouldn't envy them.
I shouldn't hate someone for doing what I am too afraid to do.
But I do.

I already know I'm a terrible person, but damn. I want to get better I don't want to feel like this.