I’m trying, maybe trying too hard. But not being positive enough.
I see the light, but it’s only a reminder of how far I’ve fallen and I need help but I will never seek it. This world, my mentality, makes me believe I am worth nothing if I can’t get out of it on my own. Hands all around me, but I walk away. I don’t reach, I just look. I just look and nothing. Nothing at all.
I like the idea of doing things. Going outside, hanging out with people, cooking, talking to people, watching shows and movies, and all the things with people. But I dread actually doing them. It’s not because I’m lazy. I get uncomfortable. I get uncomfortable leaving my home, needing to take care of myself. But I want to enjoy these things, but this feeling of being uncomfortable won’t let me. I won’t let me. I keep myself for myself to rot.
I just want everything to be perfect. I want everything to be perfect and for me to be me. The me that enjoys doing everything and can do everything. I feel hopeless and my head hurts. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I need help. I don’t need help. I see myself, and nothing. Numb. Numb from all the emotions but the ache in my head, the heaviness in my chest. I see but I recognize nothing. I want to speak out. I don’t. Loss of energy. Still trying to get everything done.
I know that it’s all a matter of perspective, but it’s easier said than done. I tell people it all the time. I tell people knowing how difficult it is to take yourself out of self wallow. But I tell them anyways because I want to hope that they can make it through. Because it’s what they need to hear. I help them to make them believe that I don’t need help. People won’t take my ask for help seriously because they only see me as the happy girl I am. But I’m not. I’m just empty. When you’re empty it’s easy to temporarily fill it with whatever you want until you’re drained.