Back to black.

6/14/15 1:24AM
I am slowly getting myself off of the Prozac, so I can switch back to lexapro. I cannot handle the person proZac turns me into. Today has been a terrible day. I cannot help but stress about my financial problems, school, my mental illnesses, and the fact that no one cares about me. People do not respect me or my time. I am so tired of being stood up, because it’s as if I don’t matter. I am so tired of finally letting my guard down, and getting hurt. I knew I should have kept my distance, but I didn’t want my fear to cause me to miss out on new opportunities. Now, I wish I would have ignored everyone. “He seems so good, give him a chance.” Yeah well, he was no better than the jerk. Portraying himself as one person, but then you see his true self and it’s disgusting. How can people live false lives? I know we all do in a way by faking as if everything is fine, but there are some people who are night and day in one body. People are so deceiving. There is no face to evil, because it is all around us.

I feel so numb. I can’t even give Bonnie and Clyde the attention and love they need right now. I want to be good enough, but I just can’t. I can’t even give my friends the support they need. All I want to do is sit down in the shower and let the water fall on to me. I want to slide the blade across my skin in various areas of my body. I feel alive again when I cut. It helps me to realize that I am still human by feeling the pain. I relapsed and cut a lot today. It is so hard for me to actually cry or show any type of emotion, but I sat in the shower and finally released my tears. I picked up my razor blade and I became real again. In a way, I brought myself back to life. 

I took one of my new sleeping pills, because sleep is the closest thing to death for now. I wish I could wake up and be a new, better person but I can’t. I’m still numb. I’m still empty. I’m still only a body existing on this planet.

This week has been rough. I realized I do not have as many friends as I thought I did. I was shown how little my absence affects their life. You know, Devon texted and called me for three weeks wondering when I would come back to Tampa and I finally go back and he stands me up. My entire life is filled of moments where I am stood up or forgotten about. It’s like all those parties I prepared for, just to have no one show up. On Monday I was trying to be kind and make “him” dinner, but he stood me up as well. How can you say earlier that morning, “I will never lose contact with you or mess up, because someone like you is rare. I will not allow myself to lose you,” and then disappear? How can you say you will prove to me that you will never leave me, but pull a stunt like this? How do you think you can make me stay, but you are doing the thing that hurts me most? I have lost quite a few friends this past month, because I no longer tolerate being made to feel like nothing from people who are supposed to be my friends.

All day I have been asking myself, “why am I never good enough?” I realized it is not my obligation to please a man. I should not have to change who I am. I search for attention in all the wrong places. I allow the wrong people into my bed, into me because for that instant I am not alone. For that instant, I am not forgotten. For that instant, someone finds me beautiful enough. For that instant, I am not being made to feel ashamed of my weight. I always wanted sex to represent something special to me, but that got ruined November 23rd, 2014. I thought if i devalued it, then I could no longer be hurt by scumbags who just use me for my vagina. Then I got the crazy idea that if I use men the way they used me, then I regained my control. I loved making a guy feel like less of a man when he couldn’t please me. I wanted to bruise their ego, the same way they did my self-confidence. How does it to feel to go from being cocky to pathetic so quickly? How does it feel to try so hard in bed and still be unable to please a woman? Does it hurt? Good. 
I am starting to think the version of “him” I saw that Friday night was the real him. He is seriously terrifying when he is drunk. Alcohol turns him into some evil being; I can’t bear the sight of it. He turns into an asshole that is ready to pin down any girl and fuck her. The way he grabbed me and the way I heard him speak in his friends snapchat videos woke me up. It helped me see that he will never change. Alcohol will always come first; he will always be sloppy. I will never be able to believe a word he says. It was fun while it lasted I guess… I should have known it would end as quickly as it began. I allowed myself to be vulnerable. I allowed myself to care. I allowed myself to feel. Now, I am going back to the old Keyona. Why do I keep trying to fight this battle with depression when I always lose? Why do I continue to consume all these pills when they do not make me any better? 

My heart. My soul. My presence. Back to black.

My body. Back to red. 

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