Status: Might not be over yet

Just an Average Person

Back Again

Hello. Or is it Hell? Because that’s where I am right now. Locked inside my head.
She found out. They all found out. They saw my cuts and they took my knives away, they took anything sharp, and they’re always watching me. My door is always open, they peek inside, they strip me down and search for the tell tale little lines that say I’m a S.A.D.D again.
But they don’t know I won’t eat anymore. I can’t eat! Can’t they see? I’m fat. Just the other night she made a comment about how I’m gaining weight.
Does she know I went into my room and shoved scissors into my wall? Do they know I would rather be pulling those scissors into my skin?
Does anyone honestly know who I am? That when I say I talk to myself I’m not kidding? Does anyone know?
They sent me to therapy and told me I was almost on anti depressants. What’s the point? They say depression is just caused by chemicals in the brain, but doesn’t that mean love and joy are also just chemicals? After all, isn’t anything with a brain really just a big sack of chemicals?
We’re all useless anyway. Love doesn’t exist, and everyone knows it. I walk around my town and I see it.
Is there anyone out there who sees as I do, someone who hates this planet but can’t leave it behind? We’re just destroying the planet anyway. Pushing smoke into our air, destroying everything, killing whatever makes this hell hole worth living in.
I’m sorry. I guess I just look at humanity and wonder. Wonder why about ¾ of us haven’t been killed off yet by some higher power.
Our lives are pointless after all. I can think of a few who deserve it. But have no fears. I’m not violent towards anything but inanimate objects and myself.
How bout we go out of this world with a bang? When I’m ready to go, let’s tear this place apart stitch by stitch, taste the gritty underside of humankind. Let’s explore babe. We can go laughing off together.
Then I won’t have to wear a sweat shirt all the time, won’t have to sit in corners and pray, no plead, in my head that no one looks at me.
Please for the love of God if I never get stared at again I will be thankful. How is it that people staring makes me panic? I start breathing too hard, hands shaking, head hiding in hair. Yep. I’m a freak even among the freaks.
They’re all just pretending to be different anyway. When someone truly goes out of the norm they stare just like every other ‘normal’ person there. Only a few people are truly different. Don’t worry loves. No matter how much they try to probe my brain, I’ll always be empty. I’ll be S.A.D.D again probably.
I’m just your average girl. And I’m screaming.