Sometimes the right words help you to feel. I was pretty confused until I said the word. Wrote it down. Ashamed. Then it was like a ton of bricks. It hit me. A panic attack. Grasping for air. Fighting the voices. I could hear them all. What a failure. What a disappointment. Why can she not just get a grip? Then I was asking myself the same questions. Who am I, if I cannot make it through this? Why am I so weak, when I thought I was strong? Why can I only save myself sometimes? It made it all worse. I regretted uttering the words, because then it became real.

I thought I would learn a lesson from this. I thought if I could try to describe the good feelings with words, I could feel them. I wrote that I was unbelievably happy and excited to see my inspirational figure in the flesh. I should be. This is a true event and a very real part of my life that will happen. I still feel nothing. It is so unfair. Why can I not feel the goodness sometimes? I know I blocked out the sad, but I still get the shame. So why can I not have the excitement? It is just not there. I tried really hard. If it was me, sat there, seeing the payment go through, I would have cried. All I did was laugh at the pathetic irony of it. Something you wanted so badly finally comes and you cannot even feel. That is the worst part about all of this.

So I say, I am going to make it to 21. I say that I will hold on. I only have a few weeks to get through. A birthday. Final assignments. Seeing my inspirational figure on stage. Seeing my friends from my exchange. One last exam. My tattoo. Books to read. Lying in the park. My first festival. Parties. Midsummer celebration. My holiday. Graduation.

I say it, but it means nothing. I say it like I want to believe that I can do it. There is nothing here though. No motivation. No strength. No joy or excitement or happiness or anticipation. I do not feel a sense of achievement. I feel fear.

That is the emotion breaking through all the barriers. Fear. I wonder why. Why can I not have the joy? I am afraid. I am afraid, because I am still not working. I am still switched off. The plans, they do not matter. I still do not see to a tomorrow until I open my eyes in the morning. I still do not believe in anything. I am struggling to believe in me. I can do it. I can do all of it. None of it is that hard. I just have the voices, over and over. Telling me to end it. Telling me I am nothing. Telling me that I am burden on everyone around me. They tell me I do not belong here. I am scared of the voices. I try not to believe them, but they are so overwhelming. I spend too much time alone. So I try to drown them out, by singing as loudly as I can, but I lose my voice. Then I feel weaker than them. They are winning this battle.

So one week until 21. One week is easy. One week should be easy. Apart from the fact that I have nothing left. No emotions, no voice, no fight. So what am I supposed to do? I cannot miss out on life. I love life. I have so much to live for, so much I want to do. So why can I not do it? I want to be an adult. I want to be able to despair, without giving up. I promise to try. I promise to fight. Those are the promises that I owe myself. That is as much as I am sure of. I am fading though. Drifting, terribly. I forget the people, the places and what good there is here. That is how it overtakes me. That is why you should know that if I give up, it was never my intention. It had nothing to do with not being loved or successful or good enough. I am unbelievably blessed. I am just cursed by the voices and a pain that I cannot live through.

They will not say she was not loved. They will not say she did not live. I did it all. Now I am weak. Terribly weak. So do not judge me if I give up. It is not what I want. It is just because there is nothing left. I will hold on for as long as I can. I make promises to myself, but I cannot promise any more than doing the best that I can.


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