Freitag, Dezember 9

thank you very much for listening

I know there's barely any use in posting on this blog for it will only fall on deaf ears, if at all. But it's been nearly exactly five years since I created this blog; I was fifteen and in a rather perculiar place in life and while a lot more happened during these five years than depicted here, I still feel bad for leaving this blog hanging here without an actual end.

I am twenty years old now, in my second year of college and I'm doing fine. I cut ties with those that I recognized to be toxic for me, but I found a bunch of new friends and my relationship to everyone in my family has gotten so much better and while I still have bad days, I'm glad to say that most of the time I'm happy. 

Writing this feels like quite the end, but I guess it is supposed to be one, because this chapter ends here, probably ended a few months ago really, but this is it. I grew up and I will continue growing and if someone will ever read this, please know that there's a way out, one that does not require killing yourself, there is always the choice to live. I made that choice a while ago and I went from there and I made it, let's hope you do to. With all my love: goodbye. 

Dienstag, Februar 9


I feel grey, some times as in I'm too average and some times as if there is no black, no white in my life. Everything I am, everything I do lies somewhere in between, in the grey area without anything absolute. It's exhausting even though the normality of it is enough, but some times being enough is not enough. Some times I crave to be something more.
My grades have always been average, I didn't suck at anything, never really failed anything and yet I have no real talents either. But I guess that's the most acceptable grey area of my life. Now in college this being average, being too grey to be top of the class may ruin my career, but it may as well not, who knows. The problem is, it's like this in every aspect of my life, be it my friend circle or my love life. It's as if the core of who I am, is grey. I always only halfass things. There is no motivation to be good, to be white, but still the pressure to not be entirely black. And now I am grey, and I wish I wasn't. It's boring, it's average and it's exhausting.
One can't even call this grey a balance of black and white, no, it's the pure absence of either. And if nothing in your life is white, or black or anything really than what is there to be? All I see is grey and it is grey that makes me want to get up and leave for a place where everything is new and nobody knows that deep down I am just grey.

Freitag, Dezember 11

we hide,
and we run

Lately I've began to realize how much I changed and how much I'm still changing right now. And I'm honestly not complaining. I catch myself caring less about others and their opinion more and more often as well as starting to finally let go of the poisonous people that stuck to me for so long. A few month ago I moved to another country with the hope of recovery and a new beginning and while it didn't start out that promising, I'll have to admit that I'm finally getting there. There's about a handful of people from my past that I still text frequently and one third of them is my family, but even my parents don't hear from me that often anymore and that's okay, at least for me. I don't miss my 'old life' anymore, at least not as terribly as I did in the first weeks, because I reached a place inside, a kind of balance, that makes me feel happy with where I am right now. 
I love my family, but I'm starting to stop caring whether my dad thinks I'm good enough or my mum approves of my actions or whether my brother misses me as much as I miss him. I'm my own person and questioning myself from the perspective of others won't get me anywhere, I sure am happier caring less. Of course I still worry about these things, about their opinions, but they don't plague me, they can easily be ignored if they have to and that feels good. 
I love my friends, even those that I kicked out of my life, but what a fool would I be to surround myself with people who's words are poison, that make me feel sick nearly every minute I spend with them. In school I used to hang out with nearly everyone, having something in common with most people helps with that and it was nice, but I realize that it's not what I necessarily need. Sure, at college it is still sort of the same, but also different, because people here are generally more grown and respectful and just accept each other. It's nice to have people like me who got to know who I really am and not what my illness had me be for a while. And it's nice to have my handful of friends over in Germany who I still text daily and meet up with if college allows it, but who won't turn their back on me the moment I do something reckless.
I'm not saying I'm cured or on top of the world, but I'm good. Not only okay, but good. I miss the people I outlived and some times I still wish I had my dogs and my family close and some times things become too much and too heavy of a burden, but then I know where to go, because I'm always welcome at my home and always welcome at so many of my friend's places. Just knowing that no matter what happens I'll always have a place to go to is reassuring and makes living easier.

I'm honestly proud to say that I made it and that I can look into the mirror most of the days and see the person I used to be before my mental illness took away everything. And I'm even prouder to say that I like that person.

we get up,
and we fight,
and we live.

Sonntag, November 15

ich heb ab

when will I see you again?
you left with no goodbye,
not a single word was said

I will grant myself happiness, I will finally give myself that new beginning I kept aiming for and I will not regret it. College is nice, there are people who care about me; people I care about. I keep waking up in my own apartment in a city I love with one of my best friends sleeping in the next room and I keep studying a subject I feel passionate about surrounded by people I can learn to love. And all that far away from the horrible memories of who I used to be and what I used to do to myself. If you ever needed someone to tell you that it gets better, listen: it does. Two years ago I was at the verge of death, ripping my own body apart, pushing away people and jumping from one suicide attempt to the next. A year ago I was at the verge of madness, crying myself to sleep every single night, trying to live with all the regrets, all the guilt and all this pain. It's still there, but it has gotten so much better. I am alive, I survived myself and the war I had been fighting inside myself with no hope of ever winning, but I did. I won. And here I am now, after I had already given up on a future, I am still standing and I can go out into the world smiling, because it got better and I know, somewhere deep inside me, that I made it. And so can you. 

Mittwoch, Oktober 28

drop in the ocean

do not go gentle in that good night,
old age should burn and rave at close of day;
rage, rage against the dying of light.
dylan thomas

I see them dying, every night I lie awake, because the worst nightmares don't come while I'm asleep; they're right there when I'm wide awake at night, without any motivation to stop them. I deserve to see the people I love die, I deserve standing over their graves and I deserve having my future taken from me. I deserve the pain these images bring with them and maybe it is that illness, maybe it's just a form of self-punishment and yeah, maybe it's a bit of both. It doesn't matter. I'll keep seeing them die, be reminded that some actually died and stay awake crying the whole night. I do not deserve better, for all I know I am the one supposed to be dead. I should probably do something with what I got, with the chances I have and I will, just not tonight and not tomorrow, another time maybe. 

I miss my best friend.