Crazy.

I don't know what's going on in my head. I have been feeling so much rage. I feel like I might explode. If it's not rage, I want to die. The smallest things make me explode. I am in between the scale of not caring and caring. When I care, I am aware of how mad I get when things don't go accordingly.

The problem is, I have noticed that I have been losing my temper more and more over the weeks. This is evident with my relationship. I yell and shout. Now that I am level-headed, I am so scared of what I might be capable of when I am in the middle of a rage because I have seen what I can do in my head. Given that situation, I really really do not care if I killed them. The phrase "killed someone in a rage" is true. I am scared.

Something is wrong with me. I knew that before but right now, something is seriously wrong with me. When I get mad now, I fly into a rage almost always. This hasn't happened before. Yes, I become unreasonable but I was never anywhere close to this kind of rage. The worst part is that my logical part says "Look, this is a reasonable situation, there's no need to be mad" but the emotional part doesn't listen to it. I just get angrier and angrier. I feel it grow inside of me but I have no control over it.

I feel scared because I don't know what is going on with me. I feel scared because I don't want to end up hurting someone I love.

Rage

Sometimes I feel it bubbling inside of me,
like a ticking bomb, a land mine.
A slight pressure, at the right time, wrong time,
Boom.
Casualties everywhere.
You know what's the worse part,
I don't care.

I could snap your neck,
stab you in the chest,
rip out your throat,
break your arms,
crush your legs.
I could cause you so much pain,
look you in the eye,
and not feel a thing.

To those who un-intelligently refuse to understand depression.

The most frustrating part about having depression is when everything is going right, like absolutely everything is in your favor, you still feel your chest caving, you still want to die. When you explain it to other people who don't understand depression, they will tell you to stop thinking so much or to do something to take your mind off it.

They don't understand it. I am not thinking about anything. It could just be the beginning of the day. I would have literally just opened my eyes at the sound of my alarm. The feeling of a black hole in my chest will be there. There is no reason for it. Depression has triggers but at most times, they don't have a reason to be there. It's there and there's really nothing to do about it.

Then, to the "do something to take your mind off it", I can't. Like I've said, it's there. I could be sitting in bed, playing Pokemon or eating my lunch at a five star restaurant. I will still feel that cyclone of weariness and hopeless. It is there without needing you to acknowledging its presence. You just wake up with the hollow emptiness in your chest and the dread of the possibilities of the rest of the day.

I have woken up at times, unable to get out of bed because my body hurts. It is not the physical pain that immobilized me. I want to slit my wrists and bleed to death. I want to jump in front of a moving car and get run over. I want to feel pills going down my throat. I genuinely want to die. Now imagine someone's fist being shoved into your chest, then they continue to squirm around, twisting and turning. The place where your heart is supposed to be is replaced with a hurricane of pain, hopelessness and emptiness. You feel the blood draining from your face, your fingers, basically your whole body. You are left there, numb. You can hear the hum of silence in the air echoing in your room. You can almost hear the rise of fall of your chest as you breathe. With that, your brain just amplifies the feeling of sadness and hopelessness. You basically lose whenever you try fight with this.

So, to those who dismisses depression as an excuse for anything, fuck you. I woke up, got out of bed and went through life with ALL OF THOSE going on with me. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. You can go fuck yourselves.

We are fighters. We fight for our own lives. We fight to be alive.

Day 15 of 30 challenge: What’s something you wish you could say to that someone?

Depending on what and who someone. I have so many things that I would like to say to a lot of people but there's always one. She caused me so much pain. Too much and I practically died from it. I'm a very very different person now. No, I don't need people telling me, I feel it, which is sad.

Dear you,

You fucked me up. Do you know that you completely fucked me up? All you said, this entire time, was "get over it", "try harder" and "what do you want me to do?" What do I want you to do? Tell me we are still friends. Tell me that you still need me in your life even though we don't hang out anymore. Tell me that you don't want to see me anymore. Tell me I am dead to you and you were using me all along. Fucker, do something about it. I did everything I could and it's up to you. You fucker, what do I want you to do? I want you to fucking suffer as I watch on.

I can't look through my phone's photo album because you are in 60% of all the photos. I can't listen to songs because there are so many songs that are associated with you. I remember the movies that you liked and realized even though I also liked them, I can never see them as MY movies because YOU liked them. My favorite songs are desecrated by the memories of you. Fuck you.

I can list out all the random things about you. I don't know how much about you has changed but I don't think I care now. You have been the biggest mistake that I have ever made. You were the one that made me hit rock bottom by just telling me to do so. The worst thing is that I'd do it because you said so, just like how a siren makes a sailor meet his death. You were a fucked person from the beginning. I should have seen that. I know that I refused to because I honestly loved you.

I remember the day that you didn't come to school because you got your stomach pumped. I remember the day where you fainted outside the classroom. I remember the morning you called when you got into an accident. I remember the night that you called when you were in Spain. I remember the day when you surprised me with you already back from Spain. I remember travelling to the Philippines with you. I remember tucking you into bed when you were so drunk. I remember acting as a look out whenever you wanted to smoke at home. I remember waking up at 1am to drive you to get your car which died earlier that day on a hill. I remember wrapping my arms around you while you cried and feeling completely helpless. I remember crying, telling you that I couldn't stop bleeding and all you could do is scream at me. I remember crying again, telling you how I feel and you frowning, telling me to try harder. I remember sitting in front of you, begging you to see that I am trying my best and you just coldly telling me to try harder again. You're a fucker.

You are a bitch, a fucked up asshole that threw me aside but kept me close enough so that it's be easier for you when you needed me. Now that you have a new group of friends, you completely ignored me. I never received any phone calls or messages from you anymore. Everything you said about loving me and me being someone that you trusted was a lie. If I was so important to you, why was it so easy to kick me out of your life? It's like you never existed now.

I don't remember what your laugh sounds like. I forgot what you sound like when you're happy. I forgot what your different smiles mean, or maybe all of them are just different depths of lies. I don't remember how you'd react when you're stressed. I don't remember if you like sushi or not. I don't remember your shoe size or the prescription of your eyesight. I don't remember what you look like when you're happy. I don't remember if you hated spinach or not. I don't remember the kind of pen that you use or your Starbucks order or your favorite book or if you ever loved me.

You broke me. Do you understand that, you broke me? Just like he broke you back in July 2011. The only difference is that I was holding you in your car while you were crying during a thunderstorm. I'm here now, feeling every ounce of this pain but I'm alone. I gave you everything, my time, my energy, my whole being. You said, "Not everyone will screw you over. I won't." Fuck you, I still remember that. It was in your study room. You were wearing that grey jumper from Philippines with your hair in a bun. You looked me in the eye when you said that. I honestly believed you then. Oh god, I really loved you.

You were the last person that I would ever hurt. Clearly, it's not the same with you. Do you even understand the thing with me now? I cannot feel anything more than a glimpse of pain. I cannot cry, nothing. When I was writing the paragraph above, I was so so close to tears and then, poof, gone. It's like my mind blocked it completely. It is a good thing for me though sometimes because I'd imagine beating you up and I'd just hit you over and over and over and over again. It doesn't even bother me that I might kill you. Or I'd just bludgeon him and make you watch.

I have no mercy for you now. I won't mind doing something that will cause you pain. I'd make sure to be a witness to it. Just like Regina from Once Upon A Time, your suffering will be my happy ending. I don't understand what you did, I don't think I'll ever understand it. You're a fucker. You're a fucked up person. I pity everyone who loves you because you'd just throw them away just like you did with everyone else. I know so much about you, and now I see it. You have no one close because you throw all of them away when they served their purpose.

Fuck you, F. I really loved you but now, fuck you. You'd never understand and I don't expect you to anymore.

On being happy? I guess.

I have people tell me that,
I am one of the happiest people that they have ever met
I laugh a lot, I smile also, they say.
Funny, because I feel like I am anything else
but, that.
I guess it's a compliment?
I started to focus on myself more, call me selfish
but it helps me with "loving myself more".
They are right, especially when it comes to that.
When you love yourself, everyone else can go fuck themselves.
At least, that's what I try to live by.

There are days where I still feel you linger in my thoughts,
my dreams, in conversations that I have
and sometimes, in little things that I do daily.
I think I still hold you dear and I will still call you babe.
On the other hand, I wish to scream at you,
to make you regret every name that you ever called me,
for making me feel inferior,
for making me beg you, with all the apologies that I could say in a breath,
for making me believe that I indeed a horrible person,
for making me believe that I was never worthy of trust, or love.
You made me believe that no one needed me
and I believed every word.

I still have those messages.
I can still hear you screaming at me on the phone.
I took your pictures down a few months ago.
I tucked them away, somewhere deep in my drawers.
Give me a few more months,
maybe I'll be able to burn them then.

I dream that I killed you.

I dream that I killed you. It was swift, adrenaline driven and surprisingly satisfying. The thing I remembered about this was that I was so angry, so hurt and all I want to do is kill. Rage does things to you in case you didn't know.

I remember turning to face you and obviously my face displayed rage as my eyes shot daggers. You turned and started running. The sensation of running after you was weird, floaty but aggressive at the same time. I ran faster while you ran like a slug. I caught the side of your sleeve and somehow I teared off your whole shirt. I caught you in a headlock. You struggled very feebly. It's funny to see how your efforts are not and will not be helping you. I squeezed, closing off your airways and watched you gasp for air like a fish out of water. I enjoy the feel of slowly draining the life out of you but it's not horrible enough, I feel.

You turned purple. You gave up and you knew that you were gonna die. And at that point, there is no fun in this anymore. There is no satisfaction in killing someone who wants to die. So, I let go.

You breathing, wow, I really did not want that. You choked and coughed, you look absolutely terrified but grateful. You turned to look at me, your eyes gave you away. You wanted to know why I didn't kill you, why I changed my mind.

"You see, my dear," I cooed,

"The mind can be persuaded while the heart might be a completely different thing. I believe some people deserve a second chance," I said as I cupped my hands around your face.

"But you don't." And I snapped your neck.

You laid lifeless on the ground, Your face forever frozen in that state or horror and shock. I nudged your foot, yep, dead.

I dream that I killed him and it was the most satisfying feeling I have ever had.