The urge to purge. The urge to relapse. The urge to run. The urge to cry. The urge to breakdown. The urge to hide. The urge to.....
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I can still hear beyond the static.
I can still hear their voices. So loud. So loud. Calling. Crying. Screaming out to me. Every second grows harder. My desire is to listen. But. I can not let that happen. If I give in. I will. Fall. Back into that dark pit. Go around and around in circles. I do not want to…
Ideas
It came to me. In the dead of night. These little ideas. Snippets, rather. Not fully formed. Words that long to be written. The darkness wants to be expressed. My scars want to share their story. The desire to express it. Ideas on how. It all came to me. And the path is illuminated. That…
Her scars spoke to me. She thought I couldn't see. I could see her fight. I could see her night. Her scars spoke to me. She thought I couldn't see.
Even after a little over two years, I sometimes feel the temptation. My arm got a little cut. A small little ouchie. Nothing to fret over. Yet. Moments later.... I felt it. The excitement. The anticipation. The need for more. The demons giggled. Giggled. They tried to pet my hair. The darkness skittered on the…
(Originally posted to Instagram @chandygrace )
Is this what it is like to Tremble on the edge?
I saw a cat that reminded me of my childhood pet. I felt sad. Cut. Cut. Cut. I saw a group of girls giggling. Why can't I be part of that? No one likes me. Cut. Cut. Cut. I had a nightmare. I woke up in a panic. Cut. Cut. Cut. I got yelled at.…
Dear Grace (A Letter to My Past Self)
I wish you would listen to me. I really wish you would, but we both know that you won't. You are too trapped in your realm of depression. You are also still a hormonal teenager that is stuck. I know. But, I am writing this now. To you, my younger self. The personality I wrote…
It has been two years since I last fell into that dark pit. It was a dangerous area. It is still one that I must tiptoe around. I climbed out of it, but there are still times, two years later, that I fear falling back. Two years ago, I mutilated myself for what I hope…
