BodyOfDaffodil
Member
- Jun 14, 2023
- 31
So, it's been about a month since I've been homeless. It's no surprise really, given how much I've exposed myself prior to the events that occurred. The reasoning behind my homelessness is because the person I was living with, a family member actually; said they couldn't handle my mental instability and that I needed to get my shit together or leave the house. This person is from the older generation, and so mental health is really an enigma to them. I couldn't help but pity them, wishing that they understand that mental health isn't something you can switch on and off like a switch.
I've tried so hard to fit in, and to blend in with the crowd. To hide the mental illness from those I loved, but I find when I drink or smoke cannabis it all comes out like word vomit. If I could lock up all my mental health so no one will have to see that side of me; I would. Because it's just a recollection of all my shame and hurt, all the guilt and punishments I've given myself time and time again.
My dad (going to call him Drosera), has been trying to make a comeback in my life. He wants to go back home to him, but in the end I know what waits for me behind closed doors. It's just more abuse, more abuse than I can handle. The worst of the abuse is invisible, and all I had hoped for growing up while living under his roof is that he would leave marks on me so I could show someone and it would stop. But Drosera was smarter than that, so much smarter.
Homelessness has gotten me thinking about suicide once more, and I can't deny that the idea of it is extremely tempting. An excuse to finally just indulge in all the darker fantasies that plague my mind on a daily basis. But, Drosera always manages to convince me that he's there for me; waiting for me to fall back into his arms; even though I know better.
When it comes to my family, I feel like they're all on the otherside of a glass window. I can see them smiling, laughing and having a grand time. Their side of the window is clean and crystal clear, happiness in their voices as they praise my mother (buttercup).
I sometimes wonder if I was born into this world as a vessel for it's pain and suffering, like a lightening rod. While I sit in the cold, freezing and coughing; at the very least I get peace of mind knowing that my family have warm places to sleep at night; that their lives are easier than mine.
At the same time; I wish I could be there too. Instead of being stuck on the other side of the glass. Yet, I know that my blood isn't pure enough to ascend to their plain of existence. That this bleak life I've come to live is the best it's going to get for me; and I'm willing to accept that fact.
I've tried so hard to fit in, and to blend in with the crowd. To hide the mental illness from those I loved, but I find when I drink or smoke cannabis it all comes out like word vomit. If I could lock up all my mental health so no one will have to see that side of me; I would. Because it's just a recollection of all my shame and hurt, all the guilt and punishments I've given myself time and time again.
My dad (going to call him Drosera), has been trying to make a comeback in my life. He wants to go back home to him, but in the end I know what waits for me behind closed doors. It's just more abuse, more abuse than I can handle. The worst of the abuse is invisible, and all I had hoped for growing up while living under his roof is that he would leave marks on me so I could show someone and it would stop. But Drosera was smarter than that, so much smarter.
Homelessness has gotten me thinking about suicide once more, and I can't deny that the idea of it is extremely tempting. An excuse to finally just indulge in all the darker fantasies that plague my mind on a daily basis. But, Drosera always manages to convince me that he's there for me; waiting for me to fall back into his arms; even though I know better.
When it comes to my family, I feel like they're all on the otherside of a glass window. I can see them smiling, laughing and having a grand time. Their side of the window is clean and crystal clear, happiness in their voices as they praise my mother (buttercup).
I sometimes wonder if I was born into this world as a vessel for it's pain and suffering, like a lightening rod. While I sit in the cold, freezing and coughing; at the very least I get peace of mind knowing that my family have warm places to sleep at night; that their lives are easier than mine.
At the same time; I wish I could be there too. Instead of being stuck on the other side of the glass. Yet, I know that my blood isn't pure enough to ascend to their plain of existence. That this bleak life I've come to live is the best it's going to get for me; and I'm willing to accept that fact.
