is it suicide if its my own silence that kills me?

Here a picture, because I cant seem to get any more words out…


Where did this girl go? When did she leave? Who is she now …



Its been a while, even now its a struggle, to just free my thoughts…

When did communicating become so difficult for me?

I often feel trapped inside myself. My mind is going constantly, its so loud its drowning and yet when I try to articulate a thought, its all of a sudden silent. Or maybe its so loud I don’t hear anything at all.



Round 3

They help, it helps, the drink, it does.

I know its not the safest or the smartest, but it helps.

I know I come from a family of functioning alcoholics and I shouldn’t but I do, I do much more than I do, I work, I breath, I’ve even contemplated a future with alcohol.

Maybe the one thing were supposed to run from, eventually becomes the thing we run too, always.



I was in the process of filling out a college app before I scurried away here to unleash. College just doesn’t sound appealing, maybe because I’ve been in college on and off for the past 7 years and don’t have much to show for it. Maybe because I don’t actually know what I want to do anymore; or maybe the finish line just seems to far away..

Do you remember the moment you started caring what people thought of you? I don’t but I feel like I woke up one morning and realized I did care, too much, that caring had been controlling my life for as long as I could remember.

Sometimes I wish I was born with instructions, that someone could just tell me what I’m supposed to be doing and how to do it.



2 in the afternoon

How do you know when you’re getting depressed?

I suppose you don’t know until its to late, until you are depressed I mean.

Its harder to get out of the bed lately, the kind of hard that doesn’t even allow your body to wake until after noon.

In a state of mind where I don’t even realize I haven’t eaten all day, and then the guilt makes me eat everything at once.

Its harder to pretend, Its harder to smile, to listen, to be .. to be here.

I ignore my own thoughts, tired of my brain constantly running. Fighting me, encouraging me to make a list to check things off one by one. I igonore the advice that tells me I am in control, I can change this at any moment.

I don’t know why I ignore the voice, honestly.

Does that mean I’m too far gone, too submerged in the “black cloud” to see or think clearly.

I’m going to see Andrew tomorrow after weeks. I’m nervous, because I want to be honest, mostly with myself, but sometimes I get clammed up, I put on a sane face to get me through so I don’t have to face my demons,

I suppose I can only hope that he sees through me, that he doesn’t let me hide from myself. An hour is only so much time ..

I want to write more, it used to be such an outlet. I edit so much in my head that before I even get to the keyboard I have nothing to say. I have to catch myself, in moments of .. rawness I suppose, when my guard is down and I can freely speak and think.

Like when its 2 in the afternoon on a wednesday and I’m already buzzed.


Theres always tomorrow

I tired.

I prepared last night, I went over my schedule in my head, I felt good about my plans. I wanted to get out of bed the next day, I wanted to accomplish everything on my list, to reward myself.

And then the alarm went off and I couldn’t move, I woke up every hour after that and just kept choosing to go back to sleep.

Its 12:32pm now and I just got out of the bed, only to pour myself a glass of wine and grab the laptop. I wish I could just put all my emption and what energy I have left into writing this book. Instead its exhausting before I’ve even started. Everything is exhausting. I’m so tired and I feel so alone…

Fake it until you make it right, thats always been my motto, to just keep pushing through. I’m finding it harder than ever to stick to that, to just keep going. I have to though, I have too many people watching my moves to give up. The Irony of how I can say I feel so alone and yet I cant give up because theres too many people watching me.

My mind is just flipping through the channels never stopping long enough to see what its about. Its just going, or it doesn’t’ go at all, and instead its a glass steadily being filled but never being filled.

Focus Shardai, Focus.

I’ll try again. Now is always the right moment to start making progress and progress is progress no matter how small.



Just when I think the world is about me, the universe reminds me its not.

We lost my aunt, unexpectedly, suddenly, and slowly…

Death brings about so much, evoking another person inside you, fighting reality and time seems to be a nuisance.

To swallow death is as to swallow your fist, where would one even begin?

I know one thing, I miss God. I miss Believing. I miss letting go…

How do you find meaning in life after death?

What should my book be about now? Now that everything seems so menace.