Lost.

I feel lost in myself. Somewhere inside I am there. Hiding in a corner, under the covers most likely. It’s like when you loose something and you know you had it just a few days ago or you know you put it ‘somewhere safe’ and now its nowhere to be found. That frantic / crazy feeling that you get….that’s what I feel like. I don’t know where I went. I am filled w/ this void. Depression has defiantly taken hold. And depression w/ a splash of paranoia and constant persistant worry doesn’t make for a very exciting mix. I feel out of control. I know I’m in here somewhere but I’m not the one going thru the motions. I’m on autopilot. I’m hoping for someone to excavate my body, find my soul. Brush the dirt off and maybe then I’ll be appreciated. Put in a museum for all to stare at the soul of a lost girl. Missing for decades but now perfectly preserved. People will crowd around the plexi glass box and stare for a moment then pass by to hurry along to the mummy display. If there is a god when I die…how will he assess me? I feel like if this is the last / only life I have what am I fucking doing! I’m like a leaf that’s been blown into a stream. I casually go along, I don’t have control or a decision on where I head to. I can see a drop off in the distance and no matter how hard I try to fight the current, I’m going over. I want to cry so badly, last night…I almost sat there and just let myself do it. But for some reason I’ve been not letting myself. I don’t know why. I know that if I do it would probably make things easier. Letting the pressure out of my overfilled balloon would be a relief. I don’t even have the control for that. L I can’t explain the true feelings that linger deep with in me. I can only scratch the surface. I want to scream and cry and throw a tantrum on the floor. I want to cut my skin so I know that there is still feeling inside even though I can’t even stand the sight of someone getting cut. I want to sleep until this feeling is gone. I want to take in a deep breath and hold it until I can’t and my body forces the air from my lungs. I want to tell everyone I care about how much I love them and tell my work to fuck off for making me miserable. Though here I sit, numb and empty unable to do any of those things because I just don’t have the energy or motivation to do anything. I am broken on the inside and to the world they see nothing wrong with me. My reoccurring thought from when I was in high school was what if I got into a car accident, just myself…not involving anyone else and I got hurt. Then I could go to the hospital and I wouldn’t have to deal w/ work or life. People would come to see me. People might actually at least pretend to care and I could feel the care. I don’t want to die. I just want to hurt myself in someway. And I don’t know why. It’s been a thought for a very long time. I usually push it away and lock it up somewhere in my mind but times like these I’m not strong enough. The thoughts over fill like water in a glass, pouring over the sides and all over the counter. I’m drowning, suffocating beneath this skin. Underneath this façade.