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I keep thinking about dying. How easy it would be to no longer exist. I’m barely here to begin with.
I’ve already left my loves, they’d grieve but they’d be okay. Your life wouldn’t change, you’d only sleep alone at night. All the days today would be the same days tomorrow.
I’m not afraid to disappear. I only fear the pain.
I’m sick and I know it. I’ve been sick before. It’s never felt quite like this; but I’ve also never lost like this. I told you I have this illness but I don’t think you understand. I never want you to understand. A pain that I feel when I think about anything I care for. A numbness I feel when I watch others live. I speak and it doesn’t feel like me talking. I see my hands in front of my face but I can’t understand they’re mine. I know my name, I answer to the sound, but when I think about what I’m called I wonder who that is.
Looking back on my life I’m proud of what I’ve overcome. Climbing mountains as far back as my memory will take me. Experiences that could be a recipe for a woman of strength. But instead it defines me. It outlines my shape and shadows my movement. It whispers it’s hurt in the words that I say until nothing is genuine. Its weight on my soul when I step out of bed in the morning begging me to go back to sleep and dream of another life. I resent her for taking away what I see in the other children. I resent the other children for their innocence and happiness. And then I resent myself for that.
But often in my mind I can hear a voice. She’s sweet, kind, patient. She sounds like love wrapping it’s arms around you. Warmth in a fresh snowfall. The combination of sun on your skin and wind in your hair. A haven to find your peace in. She tells me what she knows. I admire her knowledge. Her strength. Her beauty. The uniqueness that is every inch of her being. I want to be more like her.
Then she tells me stories of death. How easy it would be to no longer exist. And she reminds me, I’m barely here to begin with.
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She's lying, please don't listen to her. I know exactly what this feels like, and it's really really hard to move past it. You can't accept her kindness anymore. I know that dying is easier. but just because you die, doesn't mean you cease to exist. Saying that is insulting to the people who care about you. They would be devastated if you left. If you can't find a will to live, use them to keep going. It's not going to feel like your truly living for a while, only surviving, but that's okay. It's okay to cry, or feel like your stuck. what matters is that you keep moving, one foot in front of the other, one step at a time. all my love goes to you <3
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