This feeling. I hate this feeling. I hate how much hurt I have to feel. I wish my wounds weren’t so deep.
Feeling of loss. The last 10 months have been so incredibly hard for me. It feels like I have lost so much.
Heartache.
My insides being ripped apart. They clench and tense, it hurts. Every muscle hurts.
I can’t think. I can’t focus.
It hurts to breathe. It literally hurts to be alive.
This feeling of wanting to shrink into the floor. I know people would miss me if I died.. but sometimes, I still don’t feel I deserve to exist. I don’t want to die, but I don’t want to be. Sometimes. Like now.
Panic. Pain. Tears. Screaming.
I wish I could ‘snap out of it’ or ‘just smile’ or whatever else people say. ‘Just be happy’ they say. Oh, ok. Thanks. I’ll do that now.
It doesn’t work like that. It hurts to be alive. It hurts to breathe
Wanting to shrivel up into a dead husk. No one misses a dead husk. Lack of self worth. I’m not anything. Logically, I know that’s not true. I have these feelings sometimes anyway. There’s my second self telling me I’m nothing. That’s telling me every single hurtful thing anyone has ever said. Then there’s me. Telling me it’s not true. And then there’s everyone else. And they are telling me it’s not true. I believe them…but for a second, I believe I’m nothing. In that moment, I’m nothing.
IT’S SO FRUSTRATING! Sometimes, I have anxiety attacks because I can’t change this. I hate it so much. I can’t stop them, I can’t stop this feeling. It comes whenever there is a trauma or a trigger. I don’t want comfort or sympathy. I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what I can do for myself to fix this.
I’m scared to sleep. Scared to dream. Scared to wake up to this reality. Scared to see the demons again.
I want to reset. I want to rest my tired body. Every muscle aches. But I can’t.
I don’t know what I want. I don’t want to sleep, but I don’t want to be. If I sleep, I cease to exist for a while.
I am so strong, and then I’m so weak. Feelings make me weak. Rip them out. Dope me up. Drug me. Stop the feelings.
I hurt so much. It’s like it will never end. I hate my world half the time.
End of My Leash 
My poor dear Heather. Bipolar is your cross to bear in this life and I am sorry you have to go through this. I can see that blogging is a great way for you to process all that is boiling, turning and causing you so much discomfort. Even when you are at your weakest, you are still very strong. Even at your lowest, you are so much higher than so many others. Stand strong, keep the faith and keep keeping on. Loves,
Love you too, Kirk. Thank you for reading and following me. It’s hard sometimes, and blogging not only helps me, but I hope it also helps other people who are going through their own struggles.