there's got to be something wrong with me

some days i wonder why i'm still trying. and by some days i mean most days. but today more than most.

i am at a stage in my life where i've been struggling with my mental health for longer than i haven't been. at a stage where all i remember is trying to recover and failing and trying and failing.

and i have nothing to show for the progress i made.

i still feel the same as i did back then. staring at the ceiling, in the dark, wondering if this is another one i'll get past. 

no you won't

is all i hear. the anxiety is so bad that i feel like i am going to die. it is so bad that i cannot think straight and i barely can register anything but my heavy breathing and the thought of making it all go away by doing something that 10 minutes later i would regret doing.

i hold my head to try and make it stop but it won't. nothing ever makes it stop and i'm running out of options.

i don't know how else to rephrase the feeling of feeling everything. to summarise how much it is dragging me down. to say how much i am struggling again.

and i say again like i haven't been this whole time, just suddenly today i cannot manage it. i hate typing it out because i hate having to say it all over again but i don't know how else to let it out. i don't know the best way of saying it rather than just typing without thinking. 

i really thought i was better this time. but here i am now falling asleep drunk next to a thankfully untouched razor wondering to myself the next morning what wouldve happened if i simply stayed up for one minute more. i thought i was better but instead i was forcing myself to sleep 14 hours a day after waking up having another panic attack because i did not know how else to make the panic stop. i thought i was past this until i find myself feeling full after looking at a past photo of myself where i was smaller because no matter how unhealthy i was, sometimes the idea of being small seemed more appealling than being happy.

and i think about the assault. i think about the people i shut out and pushed away. i think about how i was doing everything i wanted to be doing and how even though i was so lucky to be doing so that i was just so fucking sad.

i don't know how to make it all go away. it feels like it's just never going to stop. 

12 years later and all i can think about is giving up. and i don't know how much longer i can go until i do.