Danger Zone

Not in a good head space, please be warned.

I am not ok.

I am angry. I feel guilty. I hate that my family doesn’t have money, that I don’t have money. That my dad dropped us and became this self absorbed asshole and too late in realizing his mistake. I hate that the flat we live in belongs to my grandmother, that if it wasn’t for her we’d be on the street. I hate that my mum’s boyfriend committed suicide after losing all my family’s money, including my gran’s so that now my gran cannot make ends meet. I hate that I had to borrow money from my younger brother to study make up artistry and now I don’t even want to do make up after being told I’m shit at it any way. I hate that I owe him this money. I hate that my family feels like I’m freeloading. I hate that I know I am freeloading. I hate that I am in such a bad place that I am finding it harder and harder to function. I hate that I am so sick, mentally, that I can’t buy my mum a new washing machine or say I’ll pay for my gran’s bills or pay the rent. I hate that I am useless. That I am a waste of space.

I cried for the first time in ages, like actually felt that pain deep in my chest cavity. The one that makes it feel like I’ll never be able to stop. I bite the skin on my hand feeling the pain and I stop the tears. It’s like flicking a switch and it just goes off. Just like that I refuse to feel and I refuse to eat. I just feel sick. I run a bath. I run it hot, so hot my skin turns bright red. I lie there not moving, my legs squished together so I can see the gap between my thighs. It’s not big enough. I can see the burn marks on my stomach turning darker with the heat. I grab the fat on my thighs, I grab it hard and I shake the fat making my ugly legs wobble. I am so hideous. I pinch the fat on my stomach. Pinch it and show myself how disgusting I am. I grab all my fat, hard. Pinching, twisting. You pig. I move my legs, making shapes in the bath, putting my toes together, shaping my legs against the edge of the bath, knocking my knees, watching this strange lump of flesh move in awkward angles. What is this body? I hate it. This body that is sick. That houses such a sick mind. This stupid body that means I am alive. As long as I am burdened by this lump of useless fat, I am still breathing. I cannot OD, I’ve seen the torture it leaves behind. It’s selfish. So I’ll slowly starve. I don’t want to feel and eating means feeling. Eating means functioning, means I’m alive when I feel dead inside.

I’m going out tonight. I’m numbed enough to stare at my face in the mirror. Paint on the face the world will see. Big green eyes and full lips. Pretty face. Beautiful girl. People will stare. I like them staring. I am ready to be the person they want. I am want to hear, “you look good.” I want to hear how beautiful I am. Because inside I am hideous. But they can’t see that.

I wrote a poem in school. I wrote lots of poems in school but it’s this one I want to share because it’s words were ringing in my head.

Living a Death

I sometimes feel so empty, so numb and uncontrolled.
I feel like just an outer shell, the inside lost and cold.
I feel as though I’m watching a life that is not mine.
It’s all a silent move and I am just a mime;
Everything is black and white, so dreary and so dull.
This life of mine was just not planned, I tripped and then I fell.
I fell into a life of dark, a life not meant for living.
I fell into a big mistake, The Darkness I’ve been given.
And everywhere that I shall walk a plague is sure to come,
taking all the things I love and making me so numb.

So there is the space I am in. I didn’t wake up like this. I woke up fully believing in my fake façade. I smiled and laughed today. I sang as I got dressed. I had my hair done to make me feel better about myself. I chatted about the world and life and how it’s all okay. I brain stormed “the best super power (shape shifting by the way) and how we would use it” with the Munchkin . I basked in the sun whilst watching her ride her pony. I snuggled the dog not caring that my hands were dirty or that he got sand all over my jacket. I got off work early and went to run some errands. I smiled, I chatted, I felt okay. Then I got home and something went wrong. I think it was my mum talking about finances and how my gran thinks I shouldn’t be freeloading off my mum anymore. I got cross then. I got cross because I feel guilty. Because I already feel useless and in no way successful as an adult and now it’s been validated. I’m a freeloader. I’m 26 and I can’t even afford to live in my own place. Instead I spent money on having my hair done because I stupidly think it will make me feel better inside.

Why am I here? Why can’t I just be normal. Why can’t I stay stable and functional. Why do I just let everyone down, including myself. I am the biggest disappointment to myself…maybe that’s worse.


4 thoughts on “Danger Zone

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