To live, or not to live

so today I realized how scared I am, not to die but to live, which is a strange concept to grasp I know.

After three weeks of not cutting, today I relapsed and I cant even begin to explain my head right now, although I feel messy would be a appropriate start; there is just a blur of incoherent thoughts which remain both prominent and loud.

When I usually get like this I trust one person enough to talk to, but what do you do when you reach out but there is nobody there? that’s the one thing I hate and that really gets me. Don’t say you will always be there and I’m not alone, because its 12.25 am and I’m the one sat in the dark trying to suppress the urge to carve deeper, to finally end to this pointless and meaningless exsistance. And your not here! So what, you rip someone open, make them feel vulnerable, bare and raw, you tear down the layers of armor for nothing; or hey, maybe it just gives you kicks. Its the fucking lack off humanity I hate.

When you have lost faith in humanity is when you know the inevitable end is nigh…

But these are all just meaningless words and I guess the lexical choice of meaningless concludes everything nicely within this context. My exsistance is meaningless in fact all of ours is, we will have no lasting impact on anybody’s life. People say they want the truth, well here is the brutally harsh and honest truth, when you die people will come to your funeral maybe even feel sad for a little while, but then you will fade, people will forget the details of your memory’s. Photographs will no longer have the same meanings concealed in them anymore, and life will continue as though you were never even here.

In one of my recent blogs I wrote about how it feels good to be lost in the right direction, well now here is the most sincere thing,I think I will ever write: it feels tragically and horrifically traumatizing and damming to be lost in the wrong direction, to lose the foundations of who you really are.

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