Relapse, Breakdown

It can be anything; a word, a phrase, a look, an event, even a thought can trigger it. Months of building confidence, picking up my broken pieces and catching up on things I pushed aside to save myself. Loads of work left to be unfinished, promises soon to be broken, people ignored and offended. All because of one little thing that flipped the switch, or maybe lots of little things. It just becomes too much.

Salt on my tongue, heat on my knuckles, cold in my bones, sour is my stomach and empty the silence. I know I’m crying, but I don’t feel it. I punched the wall until I bled, yet there’s no pain. It’s spring and the weather’s mild while I’m shivering from the cold. I’m healthy though my burning throat suggests otherwise. I feel numb, with my heart ripped out of my chest. Disconnected from reality and time as feelings take control. Not this again.


Incoherent mess of negativity

I’m so tired of lying, faking and betraying everyone and everything I stood for. I’d love to drop the act and spill the truth and all the suffering I’ve been keeping inside, but…

I passed the point of no return an eternity ago and I’m stuck with the choices I’ve made and the ending I’ve earned. All I can do is play out my role and long for the time the curtain close one last time.

I can’t remember the last time I genuinely smiled, or what it feels like not to be afraid. I wonder if I’ve experienced happiness, all I know is 9 years of darkness and shard of the 8 years before. How am I still breathing?

Am I weak for not being able to give up, admit and accept what I have? Am I strong for being able to bear so much and still do what is expected of me?

“What’s wrong?” You wouldn’t understand. “Explain then.” How would I explain something that is built up over years, based on many disorders and I don’t even understand to someone as unbroken as you? I mean it when I say you won’t understand, I’m yet to find anyone who does. That’s why I can’t even call for help, I don’t know the problem.

This is my story 1/?

My name is Anouk Borsboom, I’m 17 years old and I’ve been dead for 9 years now. From my 8 years of being alive I only remember slivers, negative emotions and facts I’ve been told later. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a zombie. I haven’t actually physically died, but somewhere along the lines when I was 8 I stopped living and started surviving. Ever since the attack on my life, surviving was all I could do. The one responsible, was me. Well… I was the only one directly responsible, there are many others who are indirectly the cause. I’ve been told I was a happy kid, calm but energetic and likeable. How did that girl end up with a death wish? Bullying, neglect, trauma, pressure, marginalisation, discrimination. They’ll never have to pay for what they did, I’ll never be able to get my revenge. Most of them won’t even know the damage they’ve caused. Still I ended up seriously and consciously wanting to end my life, I had even considered multiple ways. I was saved, not by someone who cared for me or something noble, it wasn’t even my own sanity. I didn’t kill myself because then all the hours I’d invested in my games would be wasted. I know right, very funny. Feel free to laugh, not like something so simple can hurt my feelings anymore. The thing with suicidal thoughts is that none of us really want to die. We just rather lose all chance of recovery than having to continue suffering. We just want to escape, disappear and leave our worries behind us. For me it was games and books, I was reading Harry potter by the time I was 6. I loved reading and I was a total bookworm. Now that I look back I didn’t enjoy it because the stories were so great, but because they were worlds I could temporarily hide in. Far far away from everything that bothered me. To be honest I have no idea how an 8 year old would have offed herself but eh, it’s where the darkness starts.

Don’t ask me…

I tried something new, I asked myself a question and wrote down what my voices answered. You can read more about them under “what’s in a name


Why do I sleep with my hands next to my pillow, hiding my face, and my blanket pulled up to my neck?
Order: I’m trying to protect my dreams from the cruel world I face every day, only when I sleep is there ever peace, isn’t that worth guarding?
Chaos: To be ready to fight of any threats that come at night.
Fade: To hide my tears and sadness from those that will only hurt me more. To keep my eyes on “a way out”.
Bones: To wake up to seeing that I’m still not skinny

Why are my ears pitched for the slightest noise and my own movements silent as a shadow?
Order: To avoid harm, be aware of danger in time and have a chance of escape. To know when someone is in need and speed to their aid.
Chaos: To hear secrets and sneak away from responsibilities and consequences. To be prepared when danger approaches so I can fight it head on.
Fade: To avoid those that hurt me and remain undiscovered.
Bones: To hear what people say of me and the be able to slip away to the bathroom without anyone knowing.

Why can’t I enjoy my hobbies anymore?
Order: Because I should do the tasks given to me
Chaos: Because I want to be with “my bad boy”
Fade: Because there is no point, it’s a waste of time… putting off the inevitable
Bones: Because I should be working out instead of sitting on my lazy ass

Why can’t I tell him I love him?
Order: I don’t want to trouble him, hurt him or annoy him.
Chaos: He doesn’t deserve us, beside he’d be the one to make a move, my feelings are obvious and his are not
Fade: I don’t want to get hurt even though I’m hurting now
Bones: He doesn’t want us and I know it, he said himself he likes skinny girls.

Am I okay?
Order: No, but that shouldn’t stop me from caring about others, that’d be selfish
Chaos: No, but I am strong, I haven’t given up and I should invest more in myself.
Fade: Have I ever been? He certainly doesn’t recall anything like that.
Bones: Am I skinny? She certainly doesn’t recall anything like that.

Who can I trust?
Order: Your friends, your family, Dora, the important people in your life
Chaos: She isn’t sure.
Fade: No one
Bones: Her

Why do I cry?
Order: Because I am allowed
Chaos: Because I am weak
Fade: Because I am broken
Bones: Because I am ugly

Message of silence

Dimly lit by light of her screen, hair tucked behind her ears and wrapped tightly in her blanket. Her pale face without a trace of the enthusiasm she shows her world. Headphones in, but no music plays. There’s nothing but silence surrounding her. Gritting her teeth and occasionally biting her lip she tries to make sense of her thoughts and feelings.

The dark circles under her red swollen eyes betray more than she wants to tell. With her mask off and no one around she breaks. Everything that had been building up that day, no even from before, comes flooding out. She wants to scream out for help or… say what she knows to be true. She fiddles with her accessories and occasionally touches her wrists.

She’s cold, lonely, numb. I shouldn’t bother others with my feelings, she says to herself. She feels worthless, a failure. It will get better she repeats over and over, but she can’t convince herself. She closes her eyes and sighs, the temporary relief gives way to crack of smile. It’s quickly put down by memories that make her cringe.

“Ugh, I’m so stupid.”, “I shouldn’t have done that.”, “What will they think of me.”, “No wonder I’m alone.”, these are the things that shout trough her mind whenever she recalls her “regrets”. All she really wants is to relive them, they’re happy memories after all. She longs for them so much it hurts.

She shifts around and lies down staring at her phone, lost for what to do. She has to write off her feelings, but not in a way where people will know what’s going on. That would be a disaster. Going past all her social medias she finds none that fits and instead almost automatically checks her apps. Sifting trough her subscriptions only watching for a minute before clicking the next video. She’s looking for something to entertain her, to grab her, though she doesn’t know what.

It’s not like she has nothing to do, in fact there are plenty unfinished tasks that reach their deadline soon. Meanwhile she tries to escape herself and the world around her. Reading, writing, watching something, anything to keep from overthinking. Toxic to herself this has become her routine. Numbly repeating the same useless activities, clasping desperately to her sanity by walking on the edge of reality. While others compliment her strength she colapses all alone.

Silence can be a razor sharp blade…