A self-destructive streak.

I'm coming back, worse than before. I was thinking my last breakdown was about my boyfriend, but this one is about me, but they're all about me, aren't they?



In my head I'm screaming at myself, telling me I'm fine, but then the voice at the back of my head reminds me "you're not".

I ask myself if I want to get better and the answer is always no.

I tell myself "you need to get better for them" but the reply is always "I know, but I don't want to. They'll be fine if I keep this part of me hidden. In the past I never kept it away from them and it was always in their face which is why they always knew something was wrong with me."
The voice replies: "ha! you just acknowledged that something's wrong with you!"
I reply: "I know. Something is wrong with me, if I knew what caused it then I'd be able to fix it, but from all my memories of my emotions from when I was as young as 5 or 6 show me that whatever's wrong with me can't be experience, it must be something genetic. The only explanation seems to be that I was born with whatever it is."
Voice: "Do you realise you've been feeling sad and suicidal again? You're becoming a recluse again."
Consciousness: "Yep. But what am I supposed to do? Try feeling again? I can't. It's too difficult. I managed it for five weeks but it just got so hard, I get exhausted when I try hard to feel like a different person."
Voice: "You're saying that feeling sad is what makes you feel like you?"
Consciousness: "Well isn't it?"
Voice: "We'll never know."

Voice: "You're ruining yourself again."
Consciousness: "..."
Voice: "Well, why not. You've got nothing lose, right?"
Me: "What the hell am I supposed to do? I know I've got nothing to lose, but my family have me to lose and that's the only thing that's stopping me from just running outside and doing god knows what to end everything. I can't any of this anymore. I just feel sad all the time."

Voice: "The anorexia relapse is really coming, isn't it?"
Me: "I was shopping yesterday and I caught a glance of myself when I was walking by a mirror and all I could think of was how ugly I look. On a daily basis I have so many guys making passes at me, some try to get physical, others have manipulated me so many times into sleeping with them. It doesn't matter what I'm wearing, how I look, what others say, I just feel so ugly all the fucking time. I look at my face and I just want to disappear. I can''t understand how any of this has happened. I'm dreading the day my family find out because they'll be incapable of understanding that I have zero control over everything that I'm doing to myself."
Voice: "Contradiction."
Me: "I know."

Voice: "You're hungry. Eat"
Me: "No."
Voice: "Okay. At least make up the meal plan for today."
Me: "Fine."

Voice: "You know people have misunderstood you for years, it's not going to stop."
Me: "I know. That's why I make us come across as a bimbo -- it's easier for everyone to think that than to know the truths."

Voice: "People are telling you to get help for the rape. Are you?"
Me: "Hell no. If I tell a "professional" about everything that's happened to me, everything I've done, and everything I probably will do or allow to happen to me, then they'll immediately tell my family because I'm a major threat to myself. I can't have them find out."
Voice: "Everything you'll allow to happen to you? You mean another sexual assault if it comes your way?"
Me: "Well if it means hurting me even further, then yeah, sure, anything to make me feel worse."
Voice: "Why do you want to feel worse about everything that happens to you? Don't you think you've hurt enough? In just over a week you'll turn 19 and yet in your life so far, you've felt the amount of pain a 90 year old feels. I don't tell us we're '18 going on 80' for no reason."
Me: "I wish I knew the answer. I know I'm hurting. I know I'm worsening things for us, but still I don't want it to stop. It's almost like if I don't feel pain then I'm no one. I don't know how to escape from that."
Voice: "You don't. You embrace it because you have to. Pain is an art. You've mastered the art. You're like the Picasso of grief and despair. You can't escape it because you don't want to escape it. You thrive in it because it's all you know. You can't turn a caterpillar into a butterfly if it's comfortable being a caterpillar, right?"