This is what it has come down to.

I am scared of falling asleep.

Every night I used to shut off all my lights, lay in my bed all curled up under my blankets, shut my eyes real tight and try to sleep. Of course I would never actually fall asleep, I would just think about horrific things and everything thats going on in my life. I would then start to cry and curl up tighter and tighter, my knees up to my chest, and I would hug myself until I would become too exhausted to do anything but pass out. And I would pray. I would pray that I wouldn't wake up in the morning. That somehow I would disappear before dawn.

I refuse to feel like that ever again. I now no longer sleep. I stay awake until I hallucinate and then pass out on my bed way after the sun comes up. I know this isnt healthy. I know that this is self destructive. I just cant take those horrible thoughts anymore. I dont know what to do, I mean, I know what I NEED to do. I NEED to reset my sleeping patterns and give my mind and body a break. But when will my mind and body give ME a break? I hate this. I hate this so much it hurts. Most of all, though, I hate myself for doing this. I hate myself for every reason imaginable. I dont know what will happen if I keep doing this. I guess we'll all get to find out sooner or later, huh?

Every time I talk to someone about how I feel, they shoot me down. They tell me not to feel those things, like I can just fucking turn it off. They assume I just want attention, that I'm not really this sick, that I just want someone to notice. Well I DO want someone to notice. I want someone to notice that I havent slept in weeks and that I've been crying for days, and that I'm serious when I say that I NEED HELP. And I need someone to understand, but no one understands, and what sucks is that they could if they actually tried. I just want to give up. No one takes me seriously. No one. I'm just done.

So this is me, reaching out for the last time.

I swear if someone says just one thing about me not really meaning it, I'm doing it. I am so hurt and sad and frustrated and completely and utterly alone.

I don't know what I'm doing. I feel like my ribs are breaking into a million little pieces scattered on the floors of glass houses that only exist in the walls of my mind. I watched the northern lights on my ceiling last night, or this morning, or yesterday morning. Time isn't real for me anymore. Thank you, Kurt Vonnegut, I have yet again become unstuck. But yes, the northern lights. My ceiling turned into waves of colorful Chinese dragons dancing just out of reach. Everything was illuminated by the dying light bulbs of my twinkle lights my mom strung up just after Christmas in my fourth grade year. I am fond of them and it makes me quite sad that they are slowly dimming, one by one. My whole room has become a tomb for everything that once brought me joy. There are countless teddy bears on the shelf next to my pathetic excuse for a bed, and their only purpose, now, is for ridiculous staring contests that I win, of course, if I can convince myself that they blinked. Maybe they became distracted by light show on my ceiling. Golden strings dance and form shapes just above my head. I watched them for hours, just lying there under my blankets.

I stare straight ahead, my eyes wont move past that part in the road. I haven’t seen the sun in days, and I can pretty much guarantee that’s enough to make anyone mad. I keep having flashbacks of angels, and how they arent really angels at all, but just figments of our imagination to bring us good luck, And Heaven is just a form of deja vu where we can go back and relive moments, even seconds, of our lives until everything as we know it no longer exists. Time is irrelevant. Time is the bastard son of God. I sit here, with pride on my fingers and love carved into my arms and I wonder... how long it takes for a corpse to deteriorate? How many maggots per second? How many bones will rot away before my soul is saved? This isnt life anymore. This is just waiting.