They Can't Save Us Like This.

It's a disgustingly sudden realisation, and all of a sudden you feel yourself fighting the urge to run as fast as you can to the white cubicle to become just that. Pure again.


It's like I know everything that's wrong with me, I know everything that I have to fix. I know I'm too big, too loud, too quiet. Too much. I looked down at my arm and finally saw what was really there. I felt my legs and felt everything that was lying underneath my skin. I knew my stomach was pressing against the table, and I pressed it harder. You see, I know I'm not too fat. I know I'm average. Slap bang in the middle average. But that's the worst part. You could pass me in the street and not take another look, not notice anything is wrong.


But of course, it all is isn't it? The voices have gone and my mind is empty. Now instead of others taunting me, my own harsh critique resonates from the walls and barriers. Boundaries which I have put up, yet will most likely never put down. Everyday is either hurtful or devoid of feeling. My skin tingles now, and I scream to myself in my empty head that I need to let out the bad. But what if when I start letting out the bad, I won't be able to stop? Maybe then any happiness I have left will be let out too. And it'll all wash away the good. It'll wash Jacob away, my sister away, and any future prospects at happiness away. Proper happiness, like in the movies.


If I ever told the hospital this again, they wouldn't do anything. It's their fault that I'm here now and hurting worse than ever before/ I told them everything and they said they could fix it. Fix me. But they lied and sent me home just a few long hours later. Ha, home. I told them them how horrid it was, I told them that I cut and purged and pulled my hair and cried and shouted, just to get away from it all.


Apparently by telling them everything, I demonstrated that I have sufficient coping capabilities to carry on living. Ironically I told them just ten minutes before that, that I often went to the train station and fantasised about throwing myself under a high speed train. Y'know the sort that make the tannoy say "please move away from the edge of the platform, the approaching train is not scheduled to stop here". Funny that, because right now, more than anything, I want to bleed, to jump from that platform. 


I have more than sufficient coping capabilities, evidently. When will the System just wake up and learn? They can't save us like this.