Collection of Intellectual Story Telling

By Aida

All these inserts are a little recognition of everyone in our lives on earth who are struggling in one way or another, who are giving themselves to save ourselves. This is for all those who need a little reminder that they arent alone, that they are thought of in every way. This is for those who feel like there is no other way or theres no ending to the pain. This is for you. You are not alone. I am here with you; we are all here for one another. We have to do this together. This is HOPE (help other people every day). We are one.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 7, 2017
• ISBN: 9781543470376

Book preview

Copyright © 2017 by Aida.

ISBN:                   Softcover                         978-1-5434-7038-3

                             eBook                               978-1-5434-7037-6

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 12/07/2017

Xlibris

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Contents

Awareness: Do you want to know?

Inside

Away

John Kyle

Second Wind

The Teacher

What Now?

Still Asleep

Candance

Her

Trying to Set Myself Free

J+S

H. O. P. E

Awareness:

Do you want to know?

She stares across at it.

It stares back.

She closes her eyes and opens one up

It’s still there;

She puts her head down

She breaths

Tries to forget everything, with no luck.

She can’t decide if she wants to laugh, cry, or scream

It’s at that moment she know she’s manic.

It’s at that moment she realizes she’s losing touch with everything

Reality,

Thoughts,

Herself.

When did her brains take over?

When did she go under?

She sighs

A heavy, full, dark sigh.

Where does it go from here?

She lays back, fully aware that it’s following her every move.

She places her hands above her hea and stretches,

Quickly to wince.

The pain is still there, still fresh.

How could she forget?

She places her hand on the impact and holds her breath.

So easy, to just stop.

Everything, all of it.

She wishes she could just hold her breath till the end.

She lets out air and she likes the way it makes her stomach feel

Flat.

All her life she’s been on the heavier end of things;

Thoughts, health, body.

Never seems to come to a decent conclusion of an happy ending

Whatever she tries, she fails.

She felt like she was meant for doom.

Meant for this life she’s leading.

Yes it is true when they say it is what you make of your life,

But how many times can one attempt to start over?

She’s at the brink.

She puts her one hand on her eye one on her stomach and attempts that stupid movement at the same time but different directions, just to make herself laugh.

She giggles.

Then she starts laughing harder with all her thoughts hitting her at once and flashing before her eyes.

Tears start forming and her laughter turns into silence.

She sits up.

She knows what her mind is telling her, wanting her to do.

She knows it’s wrong, she knows it’s not an escape.

She also knows it gets the thoughts away, gets her mind at peace.

Her tears fall faster, harder.

She sniffles.

She looks at herself as she sits cross legged on her bedroom floor.

She’s wearing her favorite pair of gray leggings and a green tank top.

Never did know how to match.

She examines her arms, her legs, her stomach.

She knows this is how it starts.

She sees all the possibilities.

Voices in her head from her best friend telling her it’s dumb, to her therapist providing different outlets to watching her mom shake her head.

Nothing matters.

It’s the only way she’s found for the thoughts to be gone.

The. only. way.

With wet eyes she stares at her razor.

It’s still starting back, always ready.

She reaches over with sad hands and picks up the razor

She stares at it shiny, new, silver body.

Ready for whatever.

She usually felt ready for whatever with that fake smile plastered on her face.

Lately though, it been this;

Kind of like what you get is what you see or something.

She feel a tear drop on the blade, she looks at it.

It’s weird how perfect it looks, how still, full, elegant the tear drop, is.

She smiles, and just like that it it all came with ease.

She lifted her right leg pant up and cut.

Like its meant to happen, one of those things.

She doesn’t like the pain, but she likes what the action produces:

A thin line with blood trickling out.

A voice in her head tells her no more, stop, it’s bad.

But knowing it’s right, she just kept going, until 30 cuts later, she finally feels exhausted.

If she didn’t become light headed, she would have kept on.

She breathes.

She throws the razor towards the garbage and gets the toilet paper to press on her cuts

She lays down, and the nex thing she remembers is a knock on her door.

Grogginess meets her as she tries to piece together the events that took place.

She knew it was her mother at the door and as she was about to say what

She looked at her leg accidentally and found a good enough blood stained toilet paper pieces taped to her leg.

She panicks.

–

That is me. That is my nightly story. That’s what I write, thats what I do.

Do you want to know what goes on or goes through a mind of a person battling severe depression, bipolar disorder, and borderline multiple personality disorder? Well you’re in for an exclusive first look at what it’s really like for someone with so much to handle mentally on a daily basis. I’ve decided to share this with the world because I want the awareness of mental illness out there; people need help. Each person experiences the illness differently, this is my story. So excuse the profanity that you’re about to observe, excuse the messy thoughts, and excuse the visual effects that will be created but take it from my perspective at this exact moment: this is the scariest thing I’ve ever done (being openly raw about this, for the first time, ever).

I’m sure you’re aware that over 70% (estimate) of American adults (so not including teens and under) are in some way battling a form of mental illness. We tend to start our days a bit differently. Most of us don’t hardly have a new day because they’ve suffered through another night of no sleep because they can’t control their thoughts, they can’t hide the deamons that come out at night. For me, every morning I wake up, I don’t want to be awake. I just want to sleep the day away. You can’t imagine the empty energy, the floating thoughts, the dead weight it takes for me to get out of bed. It’s painful- then to go throughout the day as a zombie (on the inside) is seriously some talent. I don’t know if my brain is wired a different way than everyone else, but every waking thought I have is negative. I’ve been to mental health doctors, counselors, groups, whatever- and all their advice about positive self talk, positive self image, positive this that… is for the birds! I’m sorry, but it doesn’t work like that! I’ve tried incredibly hard to stay positive, to find beauty within my day, to find some form of a beautiful thought inside my own mind, I just fail. Even if there is a gleam of a positive outlook, don’t you worry, my depression is quick to make that go away.

Sometimes I wonder how it all began: where? When? How? I can’t ever pinpoint an exact moment. Does it just occur overnight? I have no idea; the doctors have tried to pinpoint when it all started for me, but they haven’t exactly figured that out. I do remember that it was July 3rd, 2007 that I had my first mental break down. And by break down, I mean a full blown break down: stuttering, crying, wheezing, shaking, shivering, etc. I had no idea what had come over me. I felt like a complete lunatic. I had so many emotions running through me, so many different energies just disappearing from me, and only one thought was constant: I want to die. During the onset