Firstly, I'm sorry. I feel like I'm failing this account, and I'm so frustrated with myself because all I want to do is write, but I don't. I don't do anything I want to. I don't read, I don't go for walks through the park, I don't make my favourite meal, I don't draw concept art for fantasy worlds, I don't play video games. I just sit with my thoughts and zone out and disappear into my head for hours until the next unavoidable task comes along.
Time for some fucking honestly.
In a few days I will be exactly 3 years self harm free. But, that's only counting cutting. Turns out, I've found new ways to self destruct. From alcohol abuse, to not allowing myself proper rest or nutrition, to walking dangerous places with little regard for my safety, working out until my body is strained and in pain, going running without my inhaler honestly hoping I'll just stop breathing someday.
I'm not okay. Haven't been for a long time and I'm lying if I say I'm okay.
My eating disorder is making it hard to function or socialize normally. My alcohol consumption has increased again and I thought I left that behind two years ago,
Things... seemed okay for a while, but it was my fault for hoping for too much.
I won't tell him, but I fell in love despite all my efforts not to. I won't tell him, because telling him now won't make either of us happy. My heart aches because yet again, I'm stuck holding someone in my heart, always wishing for their pure and utter happiness that I cannot be apart of.
I'm struggling because I thought that those feelings could clear the clutter in my mind, erase the horrors that suffocate me.
I didn't want to think about my ex, or the awful things he did to me. The way he got violent, the way his hands wandered where they weren't wanted, how his words slithered into my ears to constrict around my mind—holding me in place as easily as if he had wrapped me in physical chains.

My feelings towards this new man made me feel like I was capable of moving forward, capable of something pure and honest again. His feelings in return made me feel a sense of safety I thought I'd never find again. There's no explanation for the sensation I got in my chest and stomach when I thought of him. I never felt it like that before, it made me feel alive. He told me I was everything he tried to convince me I wasn't. He made me feel whole after years feeling empty.
But, he ran when things got too real and I felt myself fall through the trapdoor, unaware I was on a stage all along and my character having no more use was removed from the play.

I'm not over it, but I'm trying to be. I need to be, because in my head I know he's never coming back. No one I ever wait for comes back. I love endlessly, but I need to learn when to stop waiting. Why do I always wait?
Why do I place so much of my worth in the hands of others? They won't care for me, why do I always hope anyway? No one is careful enough to hold the pieces of another being, no one these days can handle such responsibility.

I hate people, but not because they are inherently awful. No, I hate people because they are beautiful. They have beautiful intentions, and words, and tender eyes and soft lips. They have gentle hands, and pretty hearts. The problem, is they also have fears and doubts and insecurities that cause them all to rip their beauty away in worry of being ensnared by the cruel few hiding behind masks that mimic the truly beautiful and kind. People don't trust, so they strike first. They leave before they're left, break others before they become the broken.
I can't live with that sort of uncertainty as a being unable to be anything but honest. I'm on my fucking knees, bleeding profusely as I hold onto the fragmented bits of my heart, still so willing to give it all to someone. To give all of me to someone just to make them happy—make them feel as whole as I wish I could be.
As whole as he made me feel.
I'm not okay, and I guess now you know why I'm not around.
I tried to end it all... a while ago, and while I regret it, I still would not be upset if I'd succeeded and that alone makes my chest ache.
I hurt, because I want to want my life. I want to want to continue this fight and succeed in finding happiness and health, I'm just not sure it exists for me.

Anyway, I don't even know what this was meant to be, but I needed I get this off my chest.
I love you guys, you're beautiful and I believe in you.

~Shay<3