Aleksandra
żyję cicho krwawiąc
- Aug 28, 2019
- 330
2019 was supposed to be "my year". it was supposed to be the first year i moved away from home to live with the love of my life. but sometimes in life things just don't go as planned and 2019 turned out to be soul torturing and full of hardships i never thought i'd have to experience. my first "real life" experience was near enough and borderline traumatising. my codependency on my ex, my mental health crumbling before my eyes, the toxicity and i just let it happen.
seven. that was the amount of times i've tried to end my life last year and the last one was near successful had my psychosis not kicked in. i often find myself saying "i should've died" - many people who experience near death would be happy and grateful they didn't and some miracle happens to them. where's my miracle? why do i still feel incomplete, broken and simply lost? when i moved back home i found myself not even trying to find work, and even now i have, i struggle turning up because the thought of leaving my house terrifies me.
when you've been born to grow up the moment you come to life, you don't really ever have expectations, every experience suddenly becomes traumatic rather than a lesson. will i ever be able to face that real world again? or will i continuously deteriorate until i eventually no longer care about a peaceful death, bite the bullet and take the excruciating pain for a little bit before death?
how many times must i endure the same trauma until that eventually becomes the death of me? my mistake for 2019 was that it was going to be better. i won't make that mistake again.
seven. that was the amount of times i've tried to end my life last year and the last one was near successful had my psychosis not kicked in. i often find myself saying "i should've died" - many people who experience near death would be happy and grateful they didn't and some miracle happens to them. where's my miracle? why do i still feel incomplete, broken and simply lost? when i moved back home i found myself not even trying to find work, and even now i have, i struggle turning up because the thought of leaving my house terrifies me.
when you've been born to grow up the moment you come to life, you don't really ever have expectations, every experience suddenly becomes traumatic rather than a lesson. will i ever be able to face that real world again? or will i continuously deteriorate until i eventually no longer care about a peaceful death, bite the bullet and take the excruciating pain for a little bit before death?
how many times must i endure the same trauma until that eventually becomes the death of me? my mistake for 2019 was that it was going to be better. i won't make that mistake again.