Private Moment

    It was a night where I decided that I needed answers. All these questions in my head had piled up over the weeks, while my brain struggled with stress from school. I was tired of feeling the way I was feeling with him so I finally asked.
    Talking was done, my mind calmed and we curled into each other. For the first time in a while we started to become intimate. We took our time. Slowly stroking each others bodies. First the arms then the chest, a use of nails here a little twist or flick there. It was soothing and calming with long kisses in between. At one point he held my left hand, softly stroking the skin while we kissed.
    It was then that he pulled back and asked 'What happened to your hand.' I immediately pulled my hand away from his and said 'It's nothing, don't worry about it.' Hoping he wouldn't remember the conversation we had a few weeks ago where I asked for a favor, thus revealing why I wear a fingerless glove.
    He remember though, really how could he forget. 'Why,' he says pulling back and looking at me. I just curl  up next him, one arm slung over his torso and say 'You have to be specific or I won't answer your question.' I don't know why I said this, why I made him state it. Maybe hoping that he wouldn't be thinking what I was thinking, but he was. He knew after all.
    So he asks 'Why did you do that to yourself?' I want to lie, say it's just a weird cut, no self-mutilation here, but I couldn't. We've been together for three whole fucking years, it's about time I told him about this side of myself. So I start to speak, slowly making sure every word is precise.
    I tell him what happened last friday evening after I drove him home. How I broke down into tears and balled my eyes out, then before I even realized I had grabbed my knife and slowly started to make a cut. Then another and another and another. There were four in total and even though I pressed hard and made myself bleed, only the first one hurt. The other three just made me feel shittier about myself.
    By this point I had pulled away, laying on my back and staring at the ceiling. I didn't want to see his face, I didn't want to know what he was thinking or feeling at this point.
    We sat there in silence for a moment, before he's curling into me, asking me why. Why? Because it makes me forget about reality for a moment, gives me control over something, keeps me from feeling completely and utterly numb, broken, dead. There are so many reasons why I did what I did.
    I ask him if he's okay. He's been so quiet since I've spoken, but he only replies with 'How would you feel if someone you care about started hurting themselves?' For a moment I can't help but think of another lighter blond that I cared for a while back. I've been on both sides of this coin. Still I answer 'sad, afraid, my heart would hurt for them.'
    We fall into silence, Aster still curled into me, while I continue to stare at the ceiling. At one point I start talking, why? Maybe because it was finally time to share a part of myself that is only ever hidden away on these pages, but I told him a bit of my struggle with depression. Around the time I first started cutting, why I did it, the thought process that went into it, my emotional state at the time and how eventually slowly I stopped.
    I don't remember the exact date of when I stopped but at one point I did. I remember I didn't just suddenly feel better, it was gradual and slow, but there were a few things in my life at that time that slowly helped me get out of my lonely pit.
    'You don't know this,' I said staring into the darkness, 'but at that time you were one of a couple of people that helped me stop.' Here I fell silent, unsure of what to say anymore. Aster starts to shake and I put my arms around him and rub his back, whispering that it's okay.
    I don't know why I told him it was okay, but after a few moments I spoke for a final time saying 'I regret what I did last week. And after feeling the way I did after. I know I'm never going to do it again.' A few moments later he calms and stands to go get tissues. No more words are exchanged and the next day he seems just a tad distant, but for once I push ahead and soon we're back to the way we were. Maybe just a teeny bit better than we used to be.

Locked Away

    It's dark outside. At lest I think it's dark outside. I don't have windows, not anymore, not after I cracked mine months ago. Then I pried a corner piece off and used it for relief.
    It took the nurses two weeks before they realized I'd relapsed into a new habit. Once they noticed thought they drugged me up for a week and threw me into solitary. They took me off the drugs after what felt like maybe a week, but I stayed in solitary for a month.
    I couldn't not take the drugs they handed me or else I would have started ripping my toe nails off. Anything to feel something, even if it's just pain. Finally they brought me back out to 'socialize' really by that point though they could have just left me in solitary.
    I'd pretty much turned into a mute by then, never speaking, only ever writing in a journal that never leaves my sight. They'll read it when I die. Try to decipher all the cryptic meanings and pointless symbolism. They'll think oh a birds mentioned, that must mean freedom was longed.
    Really though, I'm just tired of not feeling anything. I take the drugs they hand me to suppress the voices. but thier side effect is numbness. Guess it doesn't really matter if the only things I tend to feel are self-hatred and sadness. Still, this in my hands almost brings a smile to my slack face. In my hands is a hand made rope made from rags and pillowcases, tightly wound and tied together to be the base for my final act.
    Honestly, this was the easiest part of my two part plan. The second part involved getting screen time and trying to memorize how to do a hangman's knot without anyone noticing what I was really looking at. All tricky, it took over two weeks, but I finally did it. In my hands lay a sturdy hangman's knot and I knew that today i was finally going to feel.
    What though? Does it really matter? Regret, remorse, sadness, pain, I'd take anything by this point. There is little I care about. I secure the handmade rope, hang off of it for a moment to see if it won't snap immediately. It holds. I pull over my night stand, so it's right underneath and stand atop it.
    Shouldn't I feel some sort of hesitation or sadness? There's nothing though. I bring the rope over my neck, fasten it and stand on the edge. Aren't i suppose to have some deep and meaningful silent thoughts? But I can't, there's nothing to say. I've been here for what's felt like decades, I haven't seen family in forever and the only person I cared about is dead. There's nothing left to say. I tip over the table and immediately I feel the pressure on my wind pipe, before there's a snap.
    Two hours later a nurse walks in ready to hand over nr. 52 meds. Usual routine stuff, instead of finding the patient curled up in bed writing away in a secret journal, a cooling body hangs from a rope.
    Another soul gone from the world, because they didn't receive the help they needed. Instead they were locked away as to not disturb the normal people of the world.

Not ready yet

I'm not ready yet.

    For what you ask, well that has a lot of answers. I keep expecting something, from life from people from myself, but there's never anything to anticipate.
    Everything just continues to move forward while my mind keeps me from flowing with everything else. It's why I like watching birds, even though sometimes you can't stare straight at them because they'll get spooked.
    There's a lot in my neighborhood and thanks to a friend I've come to know a few of the species. There are wróbelki which are heard birds. So tiny, and where you'll see one, two more will be near by. They love to play in dirt and hid in bushes. They also don't migrate so you tend to see them all year.
    You also have kafki which are crow like birds that are very clever. They have this look in their eyes as if they were constantly thinking. They tend to get along (sometimes) with wrony which are pretty much crows with sleek black feathers and long dark beaks. The two species are both very cleaver and aren't as afraid of humans as wroble. I also love wrony because they're grey and black counterparts look like they're wearing a suite. The way they walk also makes it seem like they're constantly contemplating over something.
    So why do I enjoy watching birds? Because they always seem to know what they're doing. You've got the pigeons and they have two priorities food and fucking. It's the most obvious thing in the world for them, so sometimes I look towards birds to forget about all of my tiny world problems. I find it so easy to space out when I'm on a walk or observing things. Whether it's people or animals, maybe even just the city scape, my brain easily turns off. Sometimes I want to ask others if they can do this, because it seems like a weird thing to be able to do, but maybe it's not.
    Anyway I'm stalling. There's this thought on mind, maybe I'm being too open? Before I kept everything to myself, staying quiet and leaving things be as they are, but now I tend to speak up or say what's on my mind. I'm wondering if I should stop doing it as much as I do it. Saying things that are on my mind, telling people when I'm stressed or bothered. Because every time I do tell someone I feel like I'm expecting something from them. There's always this tiny feeling of dissatisfaction after, whether it's with myself or with the person is sometimes hard to say. At the same time I want to be close with people, but maybe by doing this I just push them away because I'm too open. It's something I don't really know how to deal with just yet.
    There's also all these thoughts that have piled up in my brain. Stupid silly things, but I always push them aside or tend to not acknowledge them, because it's easier that way. The most stupid one. Around either August or September I wrote a sort of heavy post. Talking about what life is for me. It was a bit of a depressing thing, but it's something that struck me really hard. I wanted to talk to Larkspur about it, but her only comment was 'You must have been really depressed that day.' I sort of deflated a little on the inside, because yes I hadn't been having a good day than, but in reality I still believe what i wrote.
    I don't think I'm ready to live with Aster yet. I never seem to know what to do with myself when he's here. Sure I tend to do stuff on my laptop, but I never just watch a shit ton of youtube videos, like I usually do, when he's here, doing his own thing. I'm unable to put on headphones and just listen to music while spacing out, like I sometimes enjoy doing. I don't watch the same Shane Dawson video for the fifth time, because I know it will cheer me up, nor do I do silly unnecessary sounds or movements that perk me up. I explain these away as having lazy days or taking in his aura since I only get to see him for a day, before it's a week without. So many silly excuses and I think it's gotten to the point where I'm not 100% myself anymore around him. Just a teeny part of myself, but it makes me wonder if I'm a liar. So maybe it's best that we don't live together yet. Not to mention my biggest fault.
    I'm selfish. I live in my own little world, so I tend to think about myself and my problems. You could blame it on partial isolation or my own depressive thoughts, but sometimes I just don't take others feelings into account. Whether it's my own thoughtlessness or a terrible understanding of the situation. I always somehow mess up. It's why I always say I'm a terrible person. And mean it.
    All of this is coming down to one thing. How do I be a good, balanced human being? One that's open with others, without over sharing. Someone that can talk about their difficulties, but makes sure not to overshadow others troubles. How do you show that you care about everyone close to you, but also remember to care about yourself?
    Maybe that's why I enjoy observing local birds. They know who they are, why they're here. They don't need to find that perfect balance that will make themselves happy with who they are while also making those close to them happy.
    If someone asked me if I was happy. I'd probably answer; can't complain.
Here though I'd probably say it depends on the weather, season and time of fucking day.  One thing is constant though, when evening rolls around I'm contemplative, occasionally perky, but when night falls. I just can't seem to force a muscle to move on my face.

I'm probably over thinking everything.

Just ignore all this bullshit please.

What have I done

For the first time ever I thought, maybe it was time. 

I've grown, I remember, I can go without. 

Even though I decided, I couldn't just drop it like magic, so I took it slow. 

Just a couple of hours, a single evening, nothing big.

 Baby steps.

It suddenly stopped being a reminder.

That only really lasted for a little while though.

How many years has it been? 

Honestly I don't know. 

Four years, maybe three? 

I don't know.

 All I know is that the cycle has been broken 

and I can no longer wonder if it's time to move forward, 

because I've fallen right back into my own personal pit of darkness.

I've stopped caring. 

About my clothes, my greasy hair, 

my weight, my skin, 

my mental stability. 

Those are all the last things on my mind these days. 

The stress from school, my own thoughts and insecurities these past few months have driven me right back into the darkness. 

I was never far from it. 

Tip-toeing it's edge, because that was the only way I could function. 

Unaware that I would eventually fall back in.

That's a lie.

I knew, 

I knew I would break 

and I put up so many obstacles to 

try to sway myself from falling again. 

But night time is always the time when I think too much. 

So I stood from my bed, after tossing and turning for over an hour,

 aware that sleep wouldn't come. 

I walked to that blasted fucking drawer opened it and took it out.

Just to hold it, 

I thought allowing the weight to comfort me, remind me. 

I should have stopped there instead I continued 

opening it, admiring it. 

I... I held it to my skin..... 

Just enough to feel pain, 

but not enough to break skin.

I did that for a few moments, before hiding it away,

 positive that that would keep me from going further.

I'm such a fool.

It's the following night. 

Again sleep is out of my reach, 

instead I jump from my bed looking for anything 

that will keep me from going into a full blown panic attack. 

I reach for the drawer.

This time my movements are done without thought, 

precise and calming.  

It's only when I feel skin break that I stop.

What have I done?

Why would I do this?

It's been so long, I was suppose to be better!

Why can't I get better....

The worst part in all of this is the shame I'm going to feel

 when my fail safes ask to see my hand.

 I don't want to see that look in their eyes.

 Pity, regret, disappointment?  

Either way I don't want to post this, 

because the first fail safe will see. 

Although I'm more afraid of the other one

 and who knows how long I can avoid their glances. 

I just wish the sadness wasn't so prominent. 

The stress so overbearing. 

My will so weak.

It's easy to fall into the darkness, 

but so much more difficult to escape it.

I'm such a fool.

'Idyllic' Days

    Its a routine. A very simple routine, but one that I always look forward to. I have fridays off from school, no classes and all that joy, so every thursday and friday evening I would go to Asters house for a few hours. It was usually the only time I got to see him.
    One thursday evening right before I was about to leave I asked him if he'd like to try something out. Bring Bax with him and stay over at my house for the night. So he did. It wasn't easy Bax was uncomfortable in the new place, he kept walking around and crying. He peed in the house a few times and even had a bad case of diarrhea once, but after about three visits he got used to the place.
    He still occasionally cries around seven in the morning, even after we let him out to relieve himself, but I've taken to just putting him on the bed. As soon as he's cuddled up between Aster and I he falls right back to sleep. Bax is very much like a two year old child in that sense.
    He enjoys exploring the house and having a backyard to play in. He also likes to bother Oreo, mostly I think he just enjoys the company of another dog. My dad and I tend to spoil him a bit, always petting him, thus Bax is always happy to see my father.
    So after a while Bax took to this new routine. Though I'm most happy to have Aster in my bed at least once a week. Nightly conversations that are either serious in nature or very light hearted. These 24h+ that we're together can really only be described as domestic and routine.
    Usually on Wednesday one of us texts the other asking if we're doing the usually. The next day I pick up Aster and Bax around 7 pm. We drive back to my house and tend to take an hour long walk as soon as we drop off Asters stuff, unless its raining. After the walk we either make some kind of small supper, talk or just watch something on youtube.
    Nothing really specific. It isn't unusual for the both of us to be playing our own games while sitting next to each other. Thats what's happening till 1 or 2, depending on how tired I am I'll force Aster to go to bed earlier or later, although we always have nightly talks in some way shape or form that move back our bed time.
    In the morning I'm up at 10 to feed Bax and because of my school schedule clock I just stay up. Drinking some coffee, making breakfast and doing my own thing. Around 12 I start to bug Aster to get out of bed, usually by annoying the crap out of him. This can take anywhere from 30 min to an hour, depending on how much of a fight the blond puts up. After this we waste time by talking about dinner, watching Bax annoy Oreo or doing stuff on the computer. It's peaceful, my father comes back and we all talk about plans for the weekend. Sometimes Aster and I hang out with friends, other times we just do whatever till 5 than go for another long walk. Still 8:30 hits the clock and it's time for me to drive Aster home.
    Thus my beautifully boring, domestically peaceful weekend comes to an end, for Saturday and Sunday are homework days. It brings me peace of mind, at least for a little while. I also wonder if when the time comes that Aster lives here, how will the days change than? I can only hope we'll get some peaceful days occasionally, because they help soothe my soul.

Thoughts for another day.

Ups and Downs

    It's been a mixed semester, with about a month of classes left than exams around the end. I can't say it hasn't been good, but I also can't say it's been bad. I've had a lot of ups and downs this past semester. More lows than highs I think, not quite balanced.
    My mood seems to be so sensitive lately. I give up easily. I rather do nothing than something. My will to live and enjoy life is minuscule as of late. I don't really know why. Still it's harder to hide the bad days, because they seem so much stronger than the good. The fake smiles I was once able to summon now come out as crooked with dull eyes staring back. My brain hasn't been much help as it seems migraines and headaches are fairly regular and just as painful if not more so occasionally.
    Even Aster hasn't been able to chase away all of the darkness like he used to. Somehow my fog has found cracks and it now slowly invades my mind. It sort of feels like all of my strength has been sapped out of me. I'll sit down and do the work I must, but my drive has completely faded. I'm not sure if it's early summer blues or just the family drama that's on my mind.
    Azalea might be living here soon. At least for a while, but my mother is not happy about it and I think she refuses to help him. He's smart so I know he can handle everything, especially since father and I are helping him with as much as we can. Still it wouldn't surprise me if she tried to sabotage him in some way. I told Az that if he needed help that he should go to Larspur, she doesn't have a ton of time right now, but hopefully she'd be able to help him at least a bit. Sorry Spur, I hope you don't mind.
    I've also been dreaming of spiders again, which does little to help my mental health. What do you do when you're always tired? I feel like I'm just waiting for school to end so that I can have a bit of a break. Take my mind off everything for a month or so before jumping back into everything. I'm worried that it might be something more than that though. And if it is, than what could it possibly be?
    What if after everything I still feel this way? I don't really know, but I can't drag others down with me. Still if someone ask 'Am I okay?' or 'How am I doing?' What do I say? Because I can say, not too good. But when they ask me why, all I can do is shrug my shoulders because I truly don't know why. I just feel half gone.

Just a walk

    It was just the three of us. Walking back from a friends home. A casual bored game night on a Friday evening, that ended with an intense hour an a half game of chess. Thus the three of us were walking back together, listening to the birds that are just starting to rise.
    We talk jumping from subject to subject, like we always do. Still these walks always bring up the most serious of subjects, most are focused on Bell, but surprisingly this time they were focused on Aster and I.
    Somehow marriage was brought up. Bell asked when we're going to get married or why we haven't tied the knot yet. It was interesting explaining our different world views when it comes to that subject. Kids were also mentioned, since Bell has acquired yet another nickname to his arsenal- "Uncle." The subject was quickly dropped after I gave my beautiful description of child birth. Let's just say the word parasite was involved.
    Still we hopped from subject to subject, discussing the more serious things in life, because you can't always joke about life. At one point the conversation lulled to what seemed to be a relaxed quiet, when Bell pops me a question. 'So, Nast.... Tell me something that I don't know about you?'
    So many things flash through my mind that he doesn't know, but I only smile and say; 'There really isn't anything interesting about me that you don't know about.'
    Of course Bell doesn't believe me, after all everyone has an interesting story to tell. 'Then maybe I'll be a bit more blunt,' he says looking somewhat nervous, maybe awkward asking this. 'I've noticed you make a lot of suicide and dying jokes lately.'
    This isn't too surprising, but I shrug my shoulders and explain. 'I just decided to stop filtering myself around you guys.'
    Here is where Aster cuts in with a snort, 'Sorry, but Nast is too stupid to reveal anything she doesn't want to reveal.' At this Bell looks over to the other blond, confused. 'If she doesn't want to say something she wont, but if she has to it's a vague thing that tells you jack.'
    Here Bell seems to be somewhat surprised as if he never expected something like this from me. Understandable since I seem to be a very open person, it's when someone wants to get personal that I start to close up. I only smile at him and shrug my shoulders again. 'That's just the way I roll.' I reply casually before smoothly transitioning into a different subject.
    The walk continues never returning to the dropped subjects. Still my mind thinks, oh the things I would tell the both of you if only I had the courage. It's always left unsaid though, because it's not necessary for them to know.