The Light in the Dark (Completed)

I'm Done

I'm sorry,
because I know I need to change.
I also know I won't, though,
because I'm lazy
and I procrastinate
and I don't even think I deserve to be better
because I'm a terrible person
and I'll just fall back into my old patterns and habits again.

I'm sorry
because I don't take others advice. They tell me that I need to change,
that what I'm doing is harmful to me,
and I know,
believe me,
I know,
but I don't change.
I don't even try.

I'm sorry
for all the pain I've caused others, because they don't deserve to be hurt the way I've hurt them.
I've ignored people
and been flat out rude
and ignorant
and selfish
and mean.
I'm sorry.
I don't deserve to be called your friend.

I'm sorry.
I'm so, so sorry.
I don't deserve any of the love and grace and mercy I've been given.
Not one bit.
I cause problems and stress and I just mess up people's lives.
I'm just in the way.
And I'm sorry for that.

I'm sorry
I'm such a terrible person.
I'm sorry
that I want to leave,
I'm sorry
that I'm so irritable and unmotivated and I don't want to do anything anymore.

I'm sorry
that I'm not happy anymore,
I'm sorry
that I'm not acting the way I used to.
I'm sorry
I just lay in bed until noon.
I'm sorry
I don't even try to get up and shower and clean and move and talk to people.
I'm sorry
I'm just on my phone all the time.
I just need something,
anything,
to distract me from the aching pain and anger I'm feeling.
I need something to take my mind away from my anxiety and dark thoughts,
because as soon as I stop,
I'm forced to confront those thoughts, and then they're worse than ever.

Those thoughts drown out all the other voices in my mind,
the ones that tell me I'm okay and safe and loved and that I'm cared about.
They drown out those voices that say there's nothing for me to worry about, that I'm all right.
All they tell me is that I'm worthless,
I don't deserve love,
I'm a waste of space,
and I shouldn't even try, because what's the point?
I'll just mess up again
and make everyone hate me even more than they already do.
I know everyone hates me,
because I just
mess up
and mess up
and mess up
and I don't try to fix it
and I don't talk
and I don't even try to be better because it's comfortable where I am right now.

I'm so exhausted and sad and disappointed and angry with myself.
I tell myself "I've talked about my anxiety, and that's enough,"
but I've never told anyone about all the nights I've cried myself to sleep,
all the nights I've just wanted all the pain to be over,
all the nights I've wanted to be gone.
I've never told anyone.
Not a single person, and I know I should, but who?
I don't want to tell the wrong person.

I haven't told anyone
about those dark thoughts,
about those restless nights,
about those nights I've cried myself to sleep.

I haven't told anyone
about the nights I'm shaking,
huddled under the covers with tears streaming down my face
and the air growing steadily warmer
as I try to muffle my sobs so no one hears me.

I haven't told anyone
about the nights that my mind is racing and my heart is beating fast
and my hands are shaking
and I feel like there's static in my head.

I haven't told anyone
about all the nights I haven't gone to sleep until early in the morning, because my mind keeps telling me millions of reasons why I'm worthless, why everything's going to go wrong,
I'll die alone,
and everyone will hate me.

I haven't told anyone
about all the nights that I've laid in bed, wide awake,
feeling nothing and wanting to cry and scream and talk to someone,
but no one's there,
and I feel so alone
and I feel like no one cares
and everyone's asleep except for me.

I haven't told anyone
about all the nights I've just felt bad in general.
I haven't told anyone.
And it hurts.
It hurts keeping everything inside.

I want to tell someone,
but I know my problems aren't important compared to everyone else's, and it wouldn't make a difference anyways.
They'd just feel sorry for me and say I should talk to my parents,
but there's no way I'm doing that,
because then they'd be mad at me, because I have no reason at all to feel like that,
and I'm just ungrateful, spoiled, a brat, and I'm just seeking attention.
Because I have a good life with both parents and my own room and clothes and food,
so it doesn't make sense.

I just feel so cold and sad and hopeless. And I want it all to end.
I just want everything to end.
I'm so done with all of this pain
and heartache
and anxiety
and feeling worthless
and like I don't matter.

I'm done.