lily lewis

idrk anymore. you don’t have to read this if you don’t wanna. i just needed somewhere to share this where nobody i know can read it.

i wanna believe i don’t feel anything. i wanna not feel anything anymore. i pretend i don’t feel anything anymore. but i do feel..everything even more😂 even more than i pretend i don’t feel anything anymore. this isn’t real. i didn’t choose to be here and now i have to put in the effort to make it seem like i was chosen to be here and that i enjoy putting in effort to make it seem like i wanna be here.

this isn’t real.

i don’t know how to organize my thoughts nor think they’re even fucking same thoughts.

i hate doing anything. i hate bodily functions and making myself use the restroom because i have to snap back to reality and notice that i am something, someone and really take initiative for my own well being and do the routine to use the restroom and stay clean.

does that even make sense ?

i think way too much.

i don’t wanna think anymore. i don’t even know how to think properly, i don’t think?😂 i have so many routines and ways i do things in my head that it quite literally is a fucking routine. like how i get ready for bed, or how i shower or how i get dressed. underwear’s first, then maybe a bra if i’m feeling it, then socks, then pants then the shirt and then deodorant. i am so trapped in fucking routines for literally every single little fucking thing i do. but maybe that’s how this is supposed to work. i was out here on this earth to have routines.

but i’m tired.

i’m not even at my full %100 and i’m tired of doing things for other people, barely doing things for myself, continuing conversations with the same people from the day before, having headaches or body aches, i’m tired of literally trying to fall asleep or even take a shower. that isn’t what i should be feeling and i know it is all. my. fucking. fault.

i’m tired of the look my mom gives me when i do something that makes her unhappy or when i disappoint her because what i did wasn’t up to her expectations. but wanna know something? that’s my fucking fault.

i’m tired of drugs, and the lack of money and the need to have nicotine. i’m tired of being ashamed of myself for past experiences that i hate myself for, that i put my own fucking self in, that i had the control to do something else in but i don’t think to my own capacity of doing the right thing.

does that even make sense ?

i’m tired of pretending that everything’s gonna work out soon enough like i haven’t been saying that for the past couple years. this isn’t fun anymore, this is a routine, a need or even want.

acne is so tiring, so is social media.

i’m tired of trynna decide what to watch on netflix or hulu or whatever the fuck.

i’m tired of trying to figure out what i wanna do or who i should be and how to be it. i’m tired of wear to eat or who i want to be with or if i even wanna be with someone. this life is so shitty but so fucking awesome but also not awesome at all. at fucking all. i’ve started a suicide not but never finished because i knew i didn’t really mean it. i’ve tried to kill myself but i could’ve really killed myself if i really wanted to die. i’ve done that multiple times and obviously none of them worked because here i am writing this. killing yourself shouldn’t be hard if u really wanna fucking die. we can all easily jill ourselves. but it’s harder than it looks because some of us don’t mean it. we’re just so fucking sick. and tired. and exhausted. and done. this place is so fucking boring and so is the thought of dying. that’s boring. i’m bored. i’m bored of wanting to kill myself or bored of thinking of ways to do it knowing i’ll probably never succeed. i’m bored of the thought of living or the thought of the fact that maybe i’ll really, actually be someone 💀 with a family, or kids or a college degree or a life. this is no fucking fun 🤣🤣 god i fucking hate acne. that shit bugs, that’s fucking tiring. so is nicotine addiction or wanting to get geeked when it doesn’t even make me feel really that good anymore after the second line 💀 what kinda dumb shit is that? why are we like this. why do our parents pass down addictive personality to everyone the procreate? why tf is that a thing. we literally didn’t choose to have one but were gifted with it anyways.😂 that’s a fucking joke and so is everything else.

i’m tired of being paranoid every time my mom comes home because even if i’m not doing something wrong, i still think i’m doing something wrong. i’m always doing something wrong. but i think that’s jus how we all feel with parents ya know? we know we’re not always living up to their own expectations of how they want us to be and even if we are. there is ALWAYS something we’re not doing right. and that’s mad unfortunate, but we’ll probably do the same exact thing once we have children. because it somehow reflects on how they raised us, it does actually, but they really take every single fucking mistake we do to heart because they think that the way we choose to think reflects on their well being and how they chose to raise us. it’s kinda like we’re not allowed to make our own choices because in the back of THEIR heads they think it’s because they put these images in our heads like we’re fucking robots or something. it’s definitely an influence, what they say and do in front of us but 💀 we are our own fucking people. chill the fuck out bro.

i want back scratches and cheek and neck kisses. i wanna feel comfortable in my own home and comfortable in my own goddamn skin. i wanna make my mom proud and tell the truth to my dad that i believe the person who put him in prison rather than pretend that i wanna help him get out of prison just so he can get killed out here. i wanna communicate with my family more but i can barely come to terms with my own well being and how much i wanna be able to communicate with my own inner thoughts that i can’t bare to face them knowing they know almost everything about me because my mom doesn’t seem to care or cares too much that she feels the need to inform the whole fucking planet that i’ve lost my ways again. that i’m not thinking clearly and have gone absolutely insane because I do drugs. i’m a private person, mom. please leave my personal life personal. i feel uncomfortable with the fact that my brother who doesn’t even talk to me or care about me and lives in the same fucking town as me knows that i tried to kill myself nor do i want my only living grandma knowing because i haven’t even spoken to her in over two years knowing i am addicted to drugs. just because i was cut out of your fucking belly doesn’t mean you have the right to inform the whole family that i have problems. that’s my right. that should’ve been my decision to inform them. you make me uncomfortable. you make me uneasy and tired and paranoid and fucking uncomfortable. i love you, i love you, i love you mama. you’re my best friend and i enjoy time we spend together but i don’t wanna be around you anymore. i don’t wanna live here anymore. i know you’re doing the best you can on trying to better me and protect me and be the mother you are. i just stopped thinking. 😂 i thought i knew where i was going with whatever the fuck i was saying. but my mind just completely stopped running 💀 my head hurts. this is all outta wack💀 my mom hasn’t talked to me all day, and of course it’s all my fault. i know that. i can’t seem to make her proud because i don’t know what i’m doing or where i’m headed but it’s really disappointing to her. i’m tired. i’ve been in bed all day and she absolutely hates that. marieke says the way she tears me down and slowly makes me lose myself is abuse but i disagree. she’s been a mother. she’s doing what moms do and she’s trying to protect me from myself. and i can understand. i don’t know how to describe the way she makes me feel or how she looks at me or treats me but it’s not abuse, i don’t think. i don’t even think it’s borderline abuse. it’s just being motherly 😂 does that mean something? am i in denial? i’m not being emotionally abused. i don’t think? maybe but i don’t fucking know.

nah, it’s not. she’s being motherly.